Chapter 10
Nathanial
“What did you and Miss Little speak of?” Nathanial asked, attempting to keep the question from sounding like a demand as he faced Christian across the billiards table.
Upon returning from the ruins, the ladies retired to their rooms to rest, leaving the gentlemen to entertain themselves.
Nathanial had been rather relieved, as it meant a reprieve from watching Miss Little hanging on Christian’s every word.
It had been painful to witness.
The notion that it was his arm she should be walking on was not easy to dismiss.
His jealousy was reaching new heights with every moment spent in her presence.
Hopefully, the matchmaker would arrive soon and give him a clear path forward with an appropriate young lady to make his bride. Then he would not be so distracted by the one who would not suit his needs.
“Oh, this and that.” Christian bent over the table, expertly taking aim to send the balls on its surface crashing into each other.
One of them dropped into a netted pocket on the side farthest from him.
“She was very curious about the ruins. I am not sure if it was the history or the architecture that intrigued her, but she had a myriad of questions about both.”
Getting into position for his next shot, he turned his head toward Nathanial, raising one eyebrow.
“Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if you were going to offer for her.” The question was blurted out before he could stop it. Because it was of no mind to him if Christian did.
Christian’s fingers slipped, and his shot went wild.
Both of them stared at the balls bouncing off each other and the sides of the billiards table. Nathanial had never seen the other man miss so badly.
“Well, then.” Christian straightened, clearing his throat and reaching up to tug on his cravat as though to loosen it. He ran his hand down the burgundy waistcoat he’d changed into after their return to the manor. “I am thinking about it.”
Thinking about it but clearly undecided.
“Is there a reason you are holding back?” Please let there be one. A very compelling one.
Not that it mattered if she married someone else.
Even if it was one of his closest friends.
“Several.”
Thank God.
Christian courteously waited until Nathanial had taken his next shot before answering, giving Nathanial a look as if to say, that’s how it should have been done.
“I am not certain I would survive marriage to her. She is very good at scolding.” He gave his shoulders a little shake, grinning, but Nathanial could see the real hesitation there.
Christian’s father had been incredibly strict.
Privately, Nathanial did not think anyone would have ever been able to realistically live up to the former Duke of Montagu’s expectations of his heir.
As far as he could tell, Christian had dealt with his father’s continual disappointment by meeting that expectation rather than attempting to rise to the occasion and disappointing him, regardless.
“Really?” Nathanial was fascinated. He could not picture Miss Little scolding someone. Much less a duke. Even when she relaxed in conversation, she was very proper.
“Yes. She did not take the way I talk about myself very kindly and told me I need to be kinder to myself.” Christian chuckled, laughing it off, but Nathanial was reluctantly impressed. He knew exactly the way Christian was talking about.
None of the things he or their other friends had said to Christian had made an impression, but clearly, Miss Little had.
“Surely, that would be a reason to marry her.”
“Ah, but think how disappointed she will be when she realizes I am not as she pictures. Worse, imagine how Tiffany and Astrid would react if I were to break their friend’s heart.
” Christian’s shudder was much more theatric now, and he put his hand over his heart as if he could not bear the thought of their approbation.
“I would be rent asunder from my friends due to their wives’ anger at me. ”
Though he was joking, Nathanial could not help but wonder if there was a kernel of truth in Christian’s words.
“Have you given your mistress her congé yet?” he asked curiously.
Christian wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. He leaned on his stick as he watched Nathanial line up the next shot.
“Well… no. Though I plan to soon. I might have already if Zachary had not been such a twit about Delilah.”
“You mean you have stayed longer with this mistress only to show him that he could have had Delilah and searched for a debutante bride at the same time?” Nathanial shook his head.
“You overestimate Delilah’s understanding.
She would have barred her door to him the moment she realized he was searching elsewhere for a bride. ”
“She must have known that was coming.”
Nathanial shrugged.
“From the way she and Zachary are about each other, I believe she may have gotten her hopes up, widow or no. If it was not for his mother pressuring him, I think she might have gotten what she wanted, too.”
“Ah, yes. Well. The duchess is…” Christian’s voice trailed off.
Zachary’s mother was grieving the loss of her husband in a way none of their other wives had.
Whether or not they had been a love match, Nathanial did not know, but it had become clear after the Duke of Grafton’s death that the duchess, at least, had loved her husband.
Loved him so well, she completely fell apart when she lost him.
Despite it being long past the period for formal mourning, she still wore her full blacks and refused to take them off, fashion and societal expectations be damned.
Which was why it was so ironic that she was pushing Zachary to follow those same expectations in choosing his bride. A debutante, virginal and young. Not a widow, even if she was still of childbearing age.
“At any rate, I do not wish to antagonize our friends nor their wives,” Christian said, returning to the topic of Miss Little. “But I must admit there is something about her. She’s beautiful, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Very easy to talk to.”
“Very,” Nathanial agreed. Too easy in some regards.
“Smart. And kind.”
“She is both.”
“However, I would also not want to marry a woman who one of my friends has a tendre for.” It was Christian’s turn again, but he was not looking at the billiards table; he was looking at Nathanial.
“I would not expect my wife’s fidelity if I cannot give it to her as well, but it seems a terrible thing to have to worry she might prefer one of my friends to me. ”
“I…” Nathanial started to speak, then stopped.
He tried to meet Christian’s gaze, to reassure him that he held no such tendre for Miss Little…
and he could not. “I cannot marry her. She is not the right bride for me. No matter my own emotions, my choice must be logical, not…” Not what his heart desired.
The unspoken words hung in the air. He could not bring himself to say them out loud, could not bring himself to admit the truth.
Christian nodded slowly.
“Well, then. I am not sure I can marry her, either.”
Frowning, Nathanial looked at the floor.
He did not like to think that he was denying Miss Little a ducal husband, merely because they were all his friends, and yet…
Still. There were others she could marry who would give her family a high station.
While it was unlikely her grandfather would unbend enough to acknowledge her family unless she married a duke, surely it could not be all that important to gain one man’s approval.
Especially since it was more likely to be a begrudging acknowledgment rather than a true welcome back into the family fold.
He could even be said to be doing her a favor, so she was not wasting her life trying to follow the strictures of a stuck-up old man who cared more about whether his sons followed his commands than if they were happy.
Because it was clear that Mr. Little and his wife were very happy together.
That was what he wanted for his own sisters, their happiness. He was willing to pay any price for that. That the marquess could not for his sons was a defect in him, not in Miss Little or her parents.
Christian bent back over the table.
Something caught Nathanial’s eye, movement or a shadow, and he turned to look.
The door was partway open, in case anyone wanted to come join them, but he did not see anyone standing there now.
Perhaps someone had been walking by, or maybe he was mistaken in what he had seen. He was a mite distracted after all.
Kalina
Too wound up to actually fall asleep, Kalina lay in her bed and tried to concentrate on reading her book.
It was extremely difficult.
Her mind kept wandering.
To the Duke of Hereford.
The Duke of Montagu.
Was Christian courting her? Or was he merely being friendly? The significant looks some of the other ladies had shared with her indicated they thought he was courting her. That he had offered to take her up in the curricle both to and from the ruins would seem to indicate some kind of interest.
But how in earnest was he?
When he’d danced with her, he’d indicated he was helping her to draw others’ interest. Not that he was acting for his own benefit. Perhaps today had been more of the same.
Though none of the other dukes were stepping forward in the same manner, despite Christian’s actions.
Only the Duke of Hereford had looked twice at them this afternoon.
Who was the Duke of Hereford courting?
She blew out a long, slow breath.
A knock at her door made her sit up.
“Kalina, it’s me.” Her mother’s calm voice was light, but pitched to be heard through the thick door. If Kalina had been asleep, it would never have woken her, but her mother knew she rarely napped since they’d arrived in England.
“Come in.”
Pushing her book to the side, Kalina rearranged herself on her bed to be comfortable. The door opened, and her mother stepped through, smiling.