She turned to Anna. “See? He learns.”
Anna’s smile faded. “You are leaving now?”
Nathaniel turned to her. “I should.”
“Because of Major Ellis?”
“Because of several men, one locket, and a ship that will not hold past dawn.”
Mrs. Pembroke closed the case with a snap. “And because if you linger in my parlor gazing at my maid, even Captain Whitby may notice.”
Anna’s face heated. “Mrs. Pembroke.”
Her employer merely shrugged.
Nathaniel looked at the floor. “I’d better go.”
“Yes, you’d better,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “Anna, see him to the garden door.”
Anna blinked. “Me?”
“I cannot do everything.” With that, Mrs. Pembroke lifted the empty case and marched out as if she hadn’t just arranged the very thing she pretended to discourage.
For a moment, neither Anna nor Nathaniel moved.
He picked up his hat. “Miss Turner?”
Anna led him through the servants’ hall toward the back of the house. The kitchen was loud with purposeful clatter. Mrs. Fenwick was scolding Mercy about something involving burned sugar, while Elias could be heard outside speaking at great length to someone about a broken latch.
Useless near the west gate, Anna thought. Mrs. Pembroke truly was excellent at interruption.
At the garden door, Anna stopped. The evening air slipped in around the frame. Beyond the threshold, the garden lay dim and trampled in places where soldiers had crossed it without care. Mrs. Pembroke’s petunias were indeed a sorry sight.
Nathaniel looked at them. “She will blame Whitby for that.”
Anna nodded. “She already has.”
“Good.”
She turned to him and blurted, “Will you come back?”
Tenderness filled his eyes. “If I can.”
That was not the answer she wanted. It was, however, the answer she believed. She nodded and looked down at her hands. “Then be careful.”
“I am always careful.”
“No,” she said, and looked up. “You’re skilled. There’s a difference.”
Surprise crossed his face. Then something deeper. “Who told you that?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned slightly. “But it feels true.”
He stepped closer. “I will try.”
Blast it, tears began to sting the backs of her eyes. “That’s not the answer I wanted.”
“I know.” Nathaniel removed one glove. Slowly, giving her every chance to step back, he took her hand. His fingers were warm and the scratch across his hand was still there. There wassome dried mud at his cuff, and enough restraint in the way he held her hand to make her chest ache.
