Victoria sipped tea. "My cousin becomes quite obsessed with projects."
Again, the words sounded innocent. Again, they diminished real accomplishments. Nathaniel began understanding how reputations were destroyed: not through obvious attacks, but through thousands of small cuts.
By late afternoon, he had witnessed at least six similar incidents. Each one left Genevieve slightly more isolated. Each one allowed Victoria to appear gracious while subtly encouraging ridicule. The most frustrating part was Genevieve's response: she never defended herself; she simply continued helping others, as though she had grown accustomed to being overlooked. That realization bothered Nathaniel more than he expected.
Two days later, another incident pushed his irritation into genuine anger. A section of fencing collapsed near the northern pasture. Several horses escaped into neighboring fields. Workers rushed in every direction, attempting to regain control. Nathaniel joined the effort immediately. For nearly three hours, the estate descended into organized chaos throughout the entire situation.
Genevieve coordinated everything: she assigned search teams, directed repairs, and contacted neighboring landowners. By sunset, every horse had been recovered safely. The damaged fence had already been partially rebuilt. The crisis ended because Genevieve managed it effectively.
That evening, Lord Carter hosted a dinner for several guests still visiting the estate. Nathaniel happened to be carrying supplies through a nearby corridor when he overheard conversation from the dining room.
"I understand there was a problem with the horses today," someone remarked.
"Nothing serious," Lord Carter replied. "We handled it."
Nathaniel stopped walking.
Another guest laughed. "A testament to strong leadership."
Lord Carter accepted the praise without hesitation. "I appreciate that."
Nathaniel stared at the closed door. Genevieve had spent six exhausting hours solving the problem. Yet once again, she received nothing: no acknowledgement, no gratitude, nothing.
Later that night, he found her alone near the stables, checking on one of the recovered horses. Lantern light illuminated the quiet yard. The mare appeared calm now. Genevieve gently brushed its neck.
Nathaniel approached slowly. "Everything all right?"
She looked over. "The horse is fine."
"I meant you."
Surprise flickered briefly across her face. "That is unusually thoughtful for a stable hand."
"I have my moments."
A faint smile appeared. "So I've noticed."
Silence settled comfortably between them. The mare nudged Genevieve's shoulder. She laughed softly and scratched behind its ears. The sound caught Nathaniel off-guard: it was genuine, unforced, beautiful.
"You spent all day fixing someone else's mistake," he said.
Genevieve shrugged. "The fence needed repair."
"Still."