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She turned, and the moment she saw him, she was out of the bed and crossing the room before he’d even stepped through the door.

“Nathaniel!” Her hands went to his face and shoulders as she checked him over frantically. “What happened? Where have you been? I’ve been half out of my mind⁠—”

“I found him,” Nathaniel said, his voice cracking from exhaustion. “Almost found him.”

“Who?” Laura asked, though he suspected she already knew.

“Cumberlea. I learned where he’d been staying. I rode three hours in the rain to reach him… only to find out he’d left that same morning. I missed him by hours. After years of waiting and months of work with a man I abhor, sitting through his brandy and his business and his careless mentions of Isabella’s name, I missed him by a few cursed hours.”

Laura didn’t say anything. She only drew him further into the room and began undoing the buttons of his ruined coat, her hands gentle and quick.

“I’m sorry,” she said once the coat was off, her voice quiet. “I know how much that cost you, riding out with nothing but hope, and it coming to nothing in the end.”

“The one time the opportunity comes, I arrive too late to make any use of it,” he said, running his hands through his damp hair. “Nothing.”

“That isn’t nothing, whatever it feels like tonight,” she said, helping him out of his shirt. “I am sure Croft can trace where he’s gone from there. Surely a man like Cumberlea doesn’t simply vanish.”

“I know that.” Nathaniel scrubbed a hand over his face, the fight finally leaving him now that he was standing in a warm, quiet room with her hands steady on him. “I know you are right, but it does very little to ease the misery of having come so close.”

“Then be miserable tonight,” Laura said gently, drawing him toward the bed, toward warmth and dry linen. “You needn’t pretend otherwise with me. Not tonight. Tomorrow, you will write to Croft and begin again. You’ll find the next thread, the way you’ve found everyone before it. But tonight, you’re allowed to be simply furious, and exhausted, and glad to be home.”

He let her pull him down beside her, let the last of his soaked, ruined dignity fall away. He lay there a long while in the dark with her hand resting steady over his heart.

The fury slowly melted into something more bearable, though it did not disappear entirely. Not that night, and not for many nights after.

CHAPTER 27

“You look remarkable,” he complimented, offering his arm as she reached the bottom step.

“You say that every time we go out,” she pointed out, taking his arm and leaning into him.

The Fairweather ball was, by every account, the crowning event of the Season. Laura had dressed for it with more care than she’d given any evening.

She wore a deep sapphire silk gown so exquisite that upon seeing her descend the stairs, Nathaniel had stopped to stare at her. He did not seem to care that the servants were watching with amused looks.

“It remains true every time.” He pressed a brief kiss to her temple. “I find I don’t tire of saying it.”

“I pray you never do,” she laughed as they walked toward the front door. “Shall we?”

They arrived at Fairweather House to find the ballroom already thick with candlelight and noise and dancing and laughter. The orchestra was tuning somewhere beyond the crush of silk and fine jewels.

Laura felt, for the first time in longer than she could remember, none of the old wariness that had once accompanied every entrance into a room full of watchful eyes. She almost felt like she belonged.

And I do.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Lady Pembridge’s daughter greeted, dropping into a curtsy. “That dress is most becoming on you!”

“Thank you, Lady Beatrice,” Laura replied. “I must say the same for you. How resplendent you are in that shade of green. Please convey my greeting to your mother.”

“I will, Your Grace.” Lady Beatrice bowed once more. “Thank you very much. And a pleasant evening to you as well, Your Grace,” she said to Nathaniel.

“They’re softening toward you as well,” Laura whispered as they made their way further into the room. Nathaniel’s hand was steady and warm on the small of her back, amplifying her confidence.

“I am not so sure about that,” he muttered, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing tray.

“I’ve noticed it for weeks now,” she said, accepting a glass. “But it’s more marked tonight than ever. They are all looking at us, with smiles no less. Not a scowl in sight.”

“I hardly credit myself for it.” His mouth curved, faint but no less charming. “I suspect it has more to do with my wife than anything of my own doing.”