duplicitously and built an even higher wall between them.
But because of the last few days and nights, she found she couldn’t dismiss him so easily. She wanted to know the truth. Even if it hurt.
She knocked and heard papers rustling. Nathan’s tone was distracted as he called out, “Enter” from within.
She smoothed her dress and then did just that. He was focused on the ledger before him, the quill in his hand poised over the sheet before him. His jacket was draped across the chair behind him, his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. Her breath caught at the sight of him.
He glanced at her, and his expression lit up. “Well, this is a welcome surprise,” he said, rising. “I thought you and Ophelia were having tea and then you were going to talk about the book you finished this morning.”
She pursed her lips and tugged the door closed behind her. She stared at him, trying to find the words she wanted to say. Knowing that once she said them that everything would shift between them. Because it was inevitable. She’d known it for a long time.
“What is it?” he asked, his face growing concerned as he came around the desk toward her. “Abigail?”
“Why did you manipulate the outcome of our wager at the ball?” she asked in a rush of words.
But the jumbled way she asked the question didn’t seem to impact his understanding. He came to a halt midway to her side.
“Ophelia told you that?” he asked after it felt like a lifetime had passed.
She nodded. “Yes. She said you asked her not to dance more than nine times. So that I would win, I assume. So that you could tell me about your past.” She worried her hands before her. “Were you manipulating me, Nathan? Was this all part of some game?”
His eyes went wide. “No. Not a game. I suppose you could see it as a manipulation.” Her heart sank and she gripped her hands at her sides. He shook his head at the reaction. “But not the way you think.”
“Then explain it to me,” she whispered. “I want you to explain.”
“I did want to tell you about my past,” he said. “For the very reasons I told you that night. Because I was privy to a great deal of your pain and wanted to even that score a fraction. I wanted to give you some piece of myself. And I thought you would more eagerly accept it if it was because you’d won the day.”
She shook her head slowly. “But why, Nathan?”
He sucked in a long, slow breath. “It was always going to come to this,” he said softly, almost as if more to himself than to her.
“What has come to what?” she asked, and hated how it felt like her throat was closing.
He shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he opened them, something in his expression had changed. He looked…peaceful. Certain. He reached for her, and she was too mesmerized to back away.
He took her hand and lifted it to press to his heart. “Abigail…I love you.”
The world stopped spinning. It had to have stopped because it felt like everything had changed, not only this room or this man or her future. She stared at him, half-wondering if this was some dream and yet knowing it was real.
“You can’t love me,” she whispered because she didn’t know what else to say. “You can’t.”
“But I do,” he said, and smiled gently. “I felt the sharpness of it the first time I met you, even though we were contentious. It was why I kept coming back, poking my nose in, as you so often put it, during Owen’s investigation.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “No. No, you were stepping in because you wanted to protect Rhys. Because of the situation with your sister.”
He shook his head. “I told myself that. I told you that. But the truth was, I wanted to protect you. Not only out of some guilt that I’d brought hell down on you. Out of a pure desire to see you happy.”
She tried to tug her hand away, but he clung to her gently. “No, this cannot be true.”
“And yet it is. What I felt for you didn’t go away, even when the case was over. Even when you went into your official mourning period and we tried so hard to avoid each other. Do you know I used to ride past your house?”
“You did?”
He nodded. “Every few days, even