A few days later, the morning air in Sydney Gardens was crisp and bright. The gravel paths crunched rhythmically beneath their boots as Andrew and Eliza walked together, the gentle murmur of other promenading couples drifting through the trees. Mrs. Ellison walked a discreet few paces behind them, engaged in a conversation with a passing acquaintance—close enough to satisfy every rule of propriety, but far enough away to afford them privacy.
They walked in companionable silence for a time, letting the easy familiarity they had built in Scotland settle over them once more in this new, bustling city.
"I thought leaving you free was the honorable thing," Andrew admitted softly, looking straight ahead at the tree-lined path.
Eliza glanced at his profile. "You did leave me free."
"Yes," Andrew replied, a note of quiet regret in his voice, "entirely free of any reason to believe I mattered."
Eliza could not deny the truth of it. For weeks, she had carefully guarded her own expectations, assuming his polite restraint was proof of his indifference. But looking at him now, understanding the distance he had crossed to stand beside her, she realized the unfairness of laying the blame entirely at his feet.
"I might have given you one," she confessed quietly.
Andrew looked at her, his steps slowing slightly.
"A reason to believe you mattered," Eliza clarified, her gaze steady despite the vulnerability of the admission. "In Scotland, before you came to Bath, I started taking my walks earlier."
A slow, brilliant smile broke across Andrew's face. The quiet confession released the remaining tension between them, replacing it with the bright warmth of shared understanding.
"So did I."
Eliza's lips curved upward in return. "You were always there first."