Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Nathaniel felt a prickle of sweat on the back of his neck. His stiff, rigid clothes were not the ideal garb to wear on such a sun-soaked day. However, the occasion called for nothing less.
Servants served refreshments while the guests waited before they were told to take their seats. Nathaniel strode up the aisle and took his place beside Alfred, who was breathing deeply, attempting to remain calm.
“Today is a good day, Alfred.”
“It is. I hope nothing goes wrong.”
“Nothing will,” Nathaniel said with calm authority. Alfred smiled and relaxed a little. Beatrice came striding up the aisle, stopping frequently to speak to guests. Eventually, she approached them and smiled widely.
“I have just spoken to Mary. She looks exquisite, Alfred. I hope you know how lucky you are,” Beatrice said.
“I do, Mother, and I will remind myself of it every day. Thank you both for arranging such a special occasion. Everything is perfect. It’s better than I ever could have dreamed.”
“Nothing but the best for my son,” Beatrice said softly, offering Alfred a smile. She reached up and pulled a drooping lock of his hair aside. This would usually have irritated Alfred, but today, he didn’t seem to mind.
Then, she turned toward Nathaniel. The look in her eyes was one of pity and understanding.
“One day, you shall enjoy an occasion like this. I’m sorry I failed you, Nathaniel.”
“You did not fail me, Mother. And I am fine. The fates evidently did not intend for Lady Honoria and me to be together. I have made my peace with that.”
“Very well. Let’s not speak her name here again. I don’t wish today to be tarnished.” Beatrice turned back to Alfred.
“You remind me so much of your father, Alfred. He would have been so proud to see you standing here today. You have been everything we could have hoped for in a son, and I’m glad that you have found your match.”
Alfred bowed his head.
“I have only ever tried to make you proud, Mother.”
Beatrice rolled forward on her tiptoes and kissed him on the forehead. She then departed, taking her seat in the front row.
“She is in a much better mood than last night,” Alfred said.
“Her son is getting married. She is bound to be overjoyed.”
“Are you being truthful when you say you have made your peace with Lady Honoria’s departure?”
“I would not want her to feel obligated to marry me. I thought a lot about it last night, and perhaps marriage is an area where duty should not hold dominion.”
Alfred tilted his head back and arched his eyebrows.
“Why, brother, perhaps there is hope for you yet.” A wide smile spread across his face. Nathaniel gave a small shake of his head and rolled his eyes.
“So, given that today is a day of romance, are you intending to make any overtures to a certain guest of ours?” Alfred asked.
Nathaniel felt a sudden prickle of tension running through the core of his body, making his clothes feel even more uncomfortable.
“I don’t think today is a good day for that. I don’t think any day is.”
“Brother, she won’t be here forever. I would hate for you to live with regret hanging over you like a shadow.”
The words echoed in his mind. Every time he was alone with Charlotte, things seemed to go awry somehow, but today of all days, he was willing to show a hint of vulnerability to his brother.
“I believe she is already married to her work,” he said, suggesting that if things were different, he might have asked her.
“She has not been made to choose yet. The least you can do is give her a choice, and yourself a chance.”
As Alfred said this, an excited murmur arose from the crowd. Each row turned their heads, one at a time, giving the impression of a ripple surging through water. At the far end of the aisle, Mary appeared on Edmund’s arm. She walked slowly toward the altar.
“By God, she’s beautiful,” Alfred whispered, his words imbued with deep emotions.
“Yes, she is,” Nathaniel murmured, but he was looking past the bride. His gaze fell upon Charlotte. Her head was dipped a little, and her slender arms were held in front of her, her hands clutching a colorful bouquet. Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at her.
In all his life, with all the balls he had attended, with everyone he had met, he had never seen such a vision of loveliness.
Every step she took made his heart flutter.
The way her dress flowed down her feminine figure made something twitch in the depths of his soul.
She stoked a fire in his heart. The sun seemed to glow with greater intensity. Everything seemed more urgent.
It felt as though she were walking to him.
All of his instincts were sent into overdrive, and it took all of his self-control to remain where he was.
As she grew closer, the details of her face became more apparent. All attention should have been on the bride, for she was the star of the day, but Nathaniel could see nothing but Charlotte. He marveled at the arch of her eyebrows. He traced the angle of her nose. He stared at her lips.
The lips with which he was intimately acquainted, unbeknownst to anyone else present. When his gaze fell on them, it was as though he was standing before her again, the air sizzling with tension, her breath warm, her lips soft, her kiss passionate.
He was a strong man in every sense of the word, but as these thoughts and sensations tumbled through his body and soul, he knew he was just one touch away from crumbling.
Charlotte held a kind of power over him, something that no other possessed. She had taken something with that first kiss. He had given it freely with the second. Suddenly, the thought of never kissing her again filled him with such sorrow that he could have wept.
“You are beautiful,” Alfred whispered as Mary joined him at the altar.
“Take good care of her,” Edmund said with a wink.
These words jolted Nathaniel out of his trance. Edmund shook his hand. Charlotte curtsied and then turned away. For the briefest moment, their eyes met, and it almost destroyed him.
Lydia followed, and there was a suppressed smile, a knowing look. Had Charlotte confided in her? Did she know anything? Did she know everything?
Agatha made a show of hugging Alfred tightly, which delighted the crowd. Clara then stood beside Mary and did not move.
“Clara darling, you have to go and sit with Charlotte,” Mary said softly.
“But I want to stay here with you,” Clara pouted. Mary and Alfred gave each other an anxious look. Nathaniel stepped in, bending to his knee so that he was at eye level with Clara.
“Lady Clara, might I suggest that you would have a better view of the ceremony from the seat over there? It’s where the guest of honor sits.”
Clara furrowed her brow for a moment as she digested the words.
“I’m the guest of honor?”
Nathaniel feigned shock.
“Did no one tell you? Oh dear, I’m sure that everyone was so distracted with the rest of the wedding that we must have forgotten this vital piece of information.
Yes, there is always a guest of honor at the wedding, and they are given the best view.
They also get the biggest serving of dessert, but only if they sit in the right seat. ”
Clara smiled, the mention of dessert swaying her. She allowed Nathaniel to lead her away. Before he turned, Mary mouthed ‘thank you’ to him.
Nathaniel only realized the flaw in his plan when he approached Clara’s chair. Charlotte was right beside it. His jaw clenched. Every muscle tensed. He felt as though he were going to erupt with molten heat.
“Lady Charlotte,” he managed to choke out, although his voice wasn’t his own. It was a strangled thing, mangled by emotion. Their eyes met, and he felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He gave her Clara’s hand. Charlotte reached out to take it, intending to help Clara onto her chair.
Nathaniel’s fingers brushed against hers. It was a sunny day, but in that moment, it felt as though a lightning bolt had been flung from the sky, directed toward him. Her skin was soft and warm, her fingers delicate, and while it only lasted a moment, the sensation upon his own flesh lingered.
He took his hand away, cradling it as though it had been plunged in ice. He bowed his head, unable to look at her again, for he might well have died. He turned and took his own seat as the wedding commenced.
Nathaniel attempted to keep his gaze focused on his brother.
He tried to listen to every word spoken, every vow made.
In the end, he was only half-listening. His attention was stolen by Charlotte.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and when that wasn’t enough, he stole full glances, wondering if she could feel the burning heat of his gaze.
It was as though a dam had broken in his heart.
Now that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for Charlotte, they poured out in a relentless torrent, and he wasn’t sure if they could ever be quelled.
In Honoria, he had seen the future that awaited him without Charlotte.
Marriage to a dutiful, obedient woman would, ultimately, bore him.
But was it too late?
No.
Alfred was right.
Nathaniel had never been shy of pursuing what he desired before. Why should this be any different?
And then she happened to look over at him, and it was as though she looked right through his clothes, his flesh, all the defenses he had erected over the years.
He was exposed to her, fully and completely.
He was in thrall to her.
He had beaten her at cribbage. He had been on the winning team in the garden game. He had even found the ball before her.
But those were mere battles. In the scope of the war, he hadn’t stood a chance, not since that first volley she had fired. That first kiss ensnared him, changed him.
And now, he needed her, because the only thing that waited for him otherwise was a grim, lonely void.