Chapter 16
Alice lingered at the top of the stairs, her fingers curled tight around the banister as if it were the only thing keeping her steady.
Down below, she could hear the gentle clink of porcelain and the low hum of Nathaniel’s voice speaking to a footman.
Why did she feel like an interloper? This reluctance, her hesitation, the creeping about in a house where she had every right to be. It didn’t make any sense.
She was the Viscountess Greystone. Nathaniel’s wife.Before letting her escape their bed, he’d made sure to remind her of her place.
Spooning behind her, he entered her with his hard cock.
Claiming her. Calling her his wife. Her core clenched even now at the remembered deliciousness of his hardness parting her soft, wet folds and stroking her deeply.
Her protests had died away at the first touch of his fingers sliding between her legs, teasing her nub until she exploded and they had found glorious culmination together.
She would have gladly gone back to sleep, floating in the wonderful post-coitus languor, but he’d jumped from the bed all energized and smug, washed and dressed, and told her he’d wait for her in the breakfast parlor.
If his purpose with this morning’s performance had been to impart courage and confidence, it had worked—at least momentarily.
She had accepted the challenge and slid from the bed, more slowly but equally determined.
She had found her clothes pressed and folded in the bathing chamber, and a warm bath waiting for her.
She had washed and dressed quickly, and now here she was.
Poised on the cusp of a new beginning, it would seem.
Feeling more like herself dressed in her own comfortable clothing, and with her hair arranged simply, she descended the stairs, her chin lifted just enough to feign the confidence she did not feel.
The breakfast parlor was one of the few rooms she had liked during her first stay in this house.
By some miracle, it had escaped the decorating tastes of whomever had decorated many of the rooms in the house, and it was sunlit and warm, with a wide window that faced the south gardens.
The table was laid out with elegant simplicity.
Nathaniel sat at the head, the morning paper folded beside his plate.
Even dressed simply in a dark morning coat, he still managed to look every inch the aristocrat.
And more handsome than any man had a right to look.
His long, elegant fingers caught her attention as he unconsciously rubbed his index over his plush bottom lip—an endearing gesture he did when distracted—and heat crept up her face.
He looked up, and a slow smile curved those shapely lips.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d decided to starve yourself rather than face the staff.”
Alice forced a wry smile. “Tempting as that was, I remembered you promised kippers.”
He chuckled, rising to pull out a chair for her. “You see? There’s the woman I remember. Brave, sarcastic, and always willing to be bribed with food.”
Her lips curved as she sank into the chair, feeling the ghost of her past self stir.
They were alone, no prying eyes or sharp tongues, and Nathaniel’s easy confidence was infectious.
For a moment, it almost felt like the old days—two partners sharing a quiet morning before throwing themselves into their work.
Except, before, they didn’t have servants.
They had prepared the meals themselves and served themselves.
Now, the entrance of the butler, followed by a footman and a maid carrying a tea service and plates of food, momentarily threw her off.
“Leave everything on the table, Wilson,” Nathaniel said to the butler. “Lady Greystone and I will serve ourselves.”
He had used her title on purpose. To remind the staff she was the mistress of this house. Or maybe to remind her as well. She seemed to need more reminding than the staff.
The butler supervised the staff as they set out the breakfast and then, with a small bow in their direction, left the room.
“See? That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“I didn’t have to do anything. You gave the orders.”
“You’ll get used to it. You can be very commanding when it suits you.”
She simply smiled and lifted the teapot to hide her unease. She had never backed down from any challenge, but in this field, she had suffered the worst defeats of her life.
The days that followed settled into an unexpected rhythm. With no further leads in the investigation, deciphering the documents became their primary focus. And a frustrating task it was, for no matter what they did, the code remained stubbornly elusive to break.
Nathaniel spent most evenings at their Kensington townhouse, their time divided between poring over the widow’s documents and tangled sheets.
His presence felt both comforting and unsettling, the reawakening of a marriage that had never quite died.
They debated ciphers over tea, shared knowing smiles over dinner, spent their evenings reading and knitting in their cozy library, as they did before, and touched each other with an intimacy that was both familiar and yet edged with something fragile and new.
But then, just as she was beginning to believe this delicate balance might hold, the summons came.
He had convinced her to spend the evening at his townhouse, claiming he had to attend to some business.
After an admittedly sumptuous dinner, they retired to his study, another one of the rooms he had re-decorated to fit his taste.
It was comfortable and cozy, in the same style of their small library at home.
He was going through his correspondence while she knitted in the armchair by the fire when a soft expletive from him caught her attention.
She looked at him. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes. Problems at the estate. The steward informs me there’s a blight affecting the crops. And my mother claims she’s taken ill and that my presence is required.” He waved a sheet of paper in his hand, presumably the letter from his mother. “I’ll have to visit Greystone.”
Alice’s stomach sank. Of course, it was his family. It was always his family. She lowered her gaze to her knitting, her fingers tightening on the needles. “In the middle of a mission, Nathaniel? Really?”
“It should only take me a couple of days. I’ve ignored Greystone for too long, Alice. They’re my responsibility.” His voice was calm, but she heard the note of weariness there.
“And I’m not?” The words slipped out sharper than she intended, and she immediately wished she could take them back.
God, she sounded so needy! So whiny. This was not who she wanted to be.
It was not who she was. But it was the person she transformed into around his family.
She hated it, even as she felt herself slipping into the same patterns that had torn them apart before.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He stepped closer, crouched by her chair, his hand closing over her tightened fists, massaging the back of her hand to get her to loosen her death grip on the needles. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other. Come with me to Greystone.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “So I can subject myself to your mother and sister-in-law again? I’d rather not.”
“It would be different this time. I’ll talk to my mother and Louisa, and make it clear I won’t tolerate any disrespect towards you. I’ll support you, like I should have done before. Let me make up for the mistakes of the past.”
She shook her head. “You can promise that now, but when we’re there, it’ll be the same. They won’t be openly hostile. It will be subtle. I’ll feel their derision, their condescension and contempt. I’m not cut out for life as an aristocrat, Nathaniel. I don’t want it.”
His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking. “I didn’t want it either. I was happy with my life, with our life. But my brother died, and I was thrust into this role. I had no choice but to give up my work, my home, my life. Must I give up my wife as well?”
He had stood while he spoke, and his posture was rigid, fairly vibrating with anger and another emotion she recognized in herself—the yearning and frustration of trying to reconcile two worlds that didn’t match. She stood as well to face him.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want to give you up.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To be who I am. Here. With my work.”
“That is no longer possible, Alice. At least, not the same way it used to be.” He exhaled wearily, and hung his head as he raked a hand through his hair.
“Just as I wasn’t given a choice on whether to accept this title, as my wife you don’t have a choice either.
This is our life now. If you want me, you will have to accept my aristocratic self and all the responsibilities that come with it.
We can make it a good life. I will help you, support you.
Defend you. But you have to choose it. You have to be willing to fight by my side.
If not, we might as well continue with the divorce. ”
The words hung in the air between them, ugly and heavy. Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her feet. She didn’t want to lose him again. Not after they had reconnected. After the bliss they had shared in the past few days.
But she had this conviction that embracing this part of his life would mean losing herself and losing him in the end, regardless. She needed to think. Needed to get to the bottom of her fear. The root of her reluctance.
“I understand.” Her voice came out raspy. Choked. She cleared her throat before continuing, “I don’t want to lose you, Nathaniel. If nothing else, please believe that. But I have to figure some things out. I need some time. Can you give me some time?”
He exhaled slowly and nodded. Although his eyes softened, they still held a shadow of disappointment. But his hand came up to cradle her cheek with exquisite tenderness. “Very well. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and expect to be back in two days. Please don’t do anything rash while I’m away.”
Alice just nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. He drew her into his arms, and she went eagerly. Circling her arms about his waist, tightening his hold on him as if she could keep him by sheer force of will.
“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll talk when I return, and we will finish this mission together.”
She wanted to believe that. She really did. But her heart was bleeding with the fear that he was slipping away once more.