“Yes.”
Nathaniel offered his arm.
She placed her hand upon it.
They turned towards the house together. Nobody stopped them. A few people bowed as they passed, and Nathaniel answered automatically. Selina was aware of the warmth of his sleeve beneath her fingers and of the fact that he had not once asked her to explain herself before she was ready.
They had gone perhaps six steps when he said, quietly, “I knew you were acting.”
Selina glanced at him.
His eyes remained ahead.
“I disliked watching it anyway.”
There was nothing in the admission that asked to be answered. He was simply telling her the truth, as she had told him hers.
“You did very well.”
“That sounds dangerously like praise.”
“It was.”
He considered this with more gravity than the remark required.
“I shall try not to become dependent upon it.”
“You should. The supply is uncertain.”
His mouth moved.
That nearly won the laugh she had withheld earlier.
They continued across the lawn. Behind them Lady Marwood’s gathering went on, bright and orderly beneath its awnings, while the fountain continued its inadequate work as though it had witnessed nothing at all.
Selina’s fingers tightened briefly upon Nathaniel’s sleeve.
He looked down at them, then at her, but still did not ask.
“Take me home, Nathaniel.”
He did.
***
Chapter Sixteen
The next day brought no communication from Rowland or Giles.
Nothing arrived by the morning post. No card was brought to the door, no message came through an intermediary, and by evening the silence had acquired the uncomfortable quality of something that could mean either retreat or preparation.
There was no useful way to distinguish between the two.
On the Tuesday morning, however, Sowerby sent word identifying the printer to whom the copies of Georgiana’s letters had been offered.
The message reached Nathaniel while Petherick was already in the house. Within a quarter of an hour the solicitor had read it twice, asked for his hat and announced his intention of going directly to Fetter Lane.
Petherick went before noon.