Chapter 24
Nathanial
Supper passed without incident.
What Julianna revealed to Emma, Nathanial did not know. Both of them were cautiously curious about his wife, but neither relaxed during the conversation. His wife was rather guarded as well, compared to how she had been at Blackstone Manor.
Normally, Fiona would inject a much-needed bit of levity to any occasion, but today she was pouting because she had been forbidden from bringing her recent acquisition to the table—a baby fox she’d found crying of hunger whose mother had never returned to it.
Both Emma and Julianna had given him guilty expressions when he’d been introduced to Telemachus, but he had only sighed.
Attempting to keep Fiona from rescuing animals did nothing to stop her; she just attempted to hide the creatures about the house.
With as many unused rooms as there were, it was better to know what she was up to.
Though Miss Milford and Daniel often ate with the family, they’d insisted on a more formal dining situation now that he was married.
He suspected they also wanted to interrogate his wife’s lady’s maid about the new mistress of the house.
Still, as staff was going to be added to the household very quickly, he supposed it was best to start getting used to it now.
Besides, after all they had done for him and his sisters, Nathanial was not inclined to deny them whatever they asked for.
His wife kept the conversation going by asking about his sisters’ interests, the house, and the surrounding areas. Only Julianna was able to answer much about that last. Nathanial could have as well if he’d been able to bring himself to do more than grunt.
At one point, Julianna shot him a look of pure exasperation at his unusual reticence, but Nathanial could not bring himself to be engaging.
His brain was too busy thinking of all he needed to do on the morrow to start setting the estate to rights, while his emotions were torn between gratitude and resentment.
None of which was conducive to conversation.
He was also very aware of the rapid approach of night.
His wedding night.
He was going to need to consummate the marriage.
The need for a rich wife had come from his father’s ill-handling of the estate and the family finances. The need for a wife, however…
When his father had first died, along with all the other dukes in the hunting lodge fire, Nathanial had been shocked.
Then he’d been relieved. His grief had been more for Fiona’s loss than his own.
He’d been very aware of how his father was draining the family and what he would eventually inherit.
Getting it sooner actually meant they were in better shape than they could have been.
His father had sold off everything that was not entailed, and he’d emptied the house as well.
Julianna had managed to save some of their mother’s jewelry from him, only to be forced to sell it after their father’s death to pay off the worst of the debts and keep them all from starving.
Nathanial’s meager savings he’d been able to keep from the allowance his father had given him had barely made a dent.
Nathanial was determined that his sisters would never have to endure such a thing again.
He did not trust anyone else to take care of them the way he did.
His current heir was a distant cousin who lived in America and had never visited the estate, nor did he have any real connection to Nathanial or his sisters.
If something were to happen to Nathanial…
The hunting lodge accident had been the first tragedy; what followed had been even worse.
They’d barely left mourning for their fathers when Sinclair, Duke of Northumberland, had followed his father to the grave.
His cousin had inherited. Granted, despite Nathanial’s personal dislike of the fellow, William Seymour was at least the kind of gentleman who would take care of the dukedom’s people.
He had installed Sinclair’s mother in the Dowager House along with his own mother, and from all appearances was doing the best he could under the circumstances.
Whether that would hold true for Nathanial’s heir, he did not know.
He would not risk it.
Therefore, he needed to beget his own heir as quickly as possible, but the idea of engaging in intimacies with a woman who had tricked him in the most foul manner…
The worst part was that, physically at least, he did want her.
He could not stop watching her out of the corner of his eye.
The way her lips parted when she lifted her spoon to take a bite.
The way her breasts moved against the low decolletage of her gown—which was not even truly that low, and it was modestly covered with a fichu, appropriately for a family dinner.
Part of him itched to touch her silken skin and hair.
Another part of him wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her until he’d vented his anger about her treachery.
“Perhaps tomorrow we could visit the local shops?” His wife suggested, turning her head to look at him with her big dark eyes.
They were full of uncertainty, which was at least something.
She did not seem to know quite how to behave toward him.
She should have thought of that before she trapped him into marriage.
Still, she was offering to take his sisters shopping, which they desperately needed, but he did not have the time to do.
“Yes, that should be fine.” He would have a word with Daniel before he went to bed this evening.
Their neighbor, the Earl of Harrington, always let them borrow a carriage when they needed it.
Nathanial suspected he’d also been giving Daniel money on the sly to keep the family afloat, but he did not ask because he already felt he owed the earl and his wife for the generous offerings of their resources and the fact that they’d never gossiped about the Percys’ dire straits.
“Yay!” Fiona sat up straight, throwing her hands up in the air.
“A new dress!” Something she had never had before.
Though Julianna and Emma’s reactions were not quite as exuberant, they both sat up straighter, bright-eyed with eagerness.
It had been a long time since any of them had worn anything but hand-me-downs—and Fiona had never had a dress of her own.
Seeing their happiness, watching his wife’s smile spread wider as she took in his sisters’ reactions as well, he could almost feel contentment.
Almost.
If only she had waited. If only she had not trapped him.
No matter what she did now, it did not make up for it; that underlying thread of the original deceit remained.
He could not forget it, no matter how much he wanted to.
He also had to wonder if what he was seeing now was more acting. More duplicity. The way she’d drawn him in at the house party. Not just him either. Christian. Astrid. Tiffany and Gregory. Delilah. They’d all befriended her. Enjoyed her company. Hell, Astrid and Tiffany had already forgiven her.
What her goal might be, he could not fathom, unless she was trying to ingratiate herself so that he would forget the antecedents of their marriage. Would that he could.
It was not until Julianna glanced at him with concern that he realized his smile had faded and he was gritting his teeth. Immediately, he traded out his expression for a more neutral one. Still, the joy he’d gotten from his sisters’ reactions had already faded when reminded of the truth.
Thankfully, the meal was coming to an end.
Normally, the lady of the house would invite the other ladies to withdraw with her, leaving the gentlemen to their libations.
His wife paused, looking around the table, obviously uncertain of what to do.
After all, this was a family dinner, not a formal one, and she did not know how the Hall normally operated.
They had not been so formal in years, not since long before Nathanial’s father had died.
Julianna saved her.
“Time to get ready for bed, Fiona,” Julianna said, smiling.
Normally, Fiona was not averse to going to bed, but the excitement of a new family member had obviously gotten to her, and she pouted, slumping down in her chair.
“I want to stay up late.” Obviously hoping that her new sister-in-law would be a softer touch than the rest of her siblings, Fiona turned to her with wide, appealing eyes. “Can I stay up late? Since it’s a special occasion?”
Nathanial could have interceded, but he was curious as to how his wife would handle the situation.
She only hesitated a moment before smiling kindly.
“Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day. I think getting as much rest as you can is a good idea. Besides, the faster you fall asleep, the faster morning will come, and the sooner we’ll be on our way to the shops.”
Rather than sulking at being denied, Fiona sat up straight with excitement.
“The faster I shall have my new dress!” She jumped up out of her seat and ran to the door before impatiently turning. “Julianna, come on.” Then she disappeared down the hall, her footsteps quickly fading at the pace she was moving.
Laughing, Julianna got to her feet.
“She does not need me to help her get ready, but she likes the company,” Julianna explained. “I will probably follow her straight to bed. As you said, tomorrow will be a busy day.”
The smile that wreathed her face at the thought did make Nathanial’s chest loosen a touch. As did Emma’s smile as she got to her feet.
“I should like to make an early night of it as well,” she said.
Truthfully, she was probably going back to her room to read before she went to bed.
Any of the manuscripts or books that had been worth anything had been sold, of course, but that had still left a substantial portion of the library intact. Emma often had her nose in a book.
Nathanial valiantly suppressed the urge to tell her to stay, to keep him from being alone with his wife. It was not his sisters’ responsibility to manage his marriage for him.
“Good night,” he said, at the same time as his wife. He just managed to keep from glancing at her as his sisters left the room.
Sitting perfectly still, back straight, she looked at the dishes left on the table. Before she could say anything, Miss Milford came bustling in, probably alerted to the end of the meal by Fiona’s abrupt and rather noisy departure. She smiled and bobbed a curtsy.
“Are you finished, Your Graces?”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Milford,” Nathanial said, getting to his feet. To his left, his wife slowly rose to hers as well. Her plate was cleared, though she had not put much on it to begin with. Whether the meal had not been to her liking or if she’d just not felt like eating, he was not sure.
It would not matter to me except I need her to be healthy to bear my heir.
That was obviously why he cared. If she was experiencing some kind of emotional distress over realizing what marriage to him meant, which affected her appetite, surely that was the least of what she deserved.
Stepping away from the table, he offered her his arm, though he found he could not look her in the eye, pinning his gaze on her shoulder instead.
“Madam.”
“Thank you.” The soft rejoinder was almost too quiet to hear.
He was very aware of how alone they were as he escorted her out of the dining room.
The soft clinking of china and silver behind him, attesting to Miss Milford’s immediate attendance to her duties, followed them through the door, then was cut off after the door closed, leaving them in awkward silence in the hall.
Though Nathanial wracked his brain, he could not think of what he might say to her.
So, they walked on, beside each other but not truly together.
The gulf between them aggravated him as much as he felt he required it.
He was far too aware of the swishing of her skirts next to his leg, the warmth of her fingers on his arm, even through his jacket and shirt sleeves.
Nathanial clenched his jaw and loosened it again as he led her back to their rooms.
His was directly beside hers.
The first time he’d entered the marchioness’ rooms since his mother’s death had been at the beginning of this Season, when he’d wanted to ensure it was ready for a bride. He’d been back several times since, though the rooms remained empty.
But now she was there.
His wife.
On their wedding night.
Even as his arousal stirred, part of him rebelled against the idea. Railed against being put in a position where he had to bed a woman he’d specifically not chosen as his wife, no matter that he’d desired her.
Each step toward her door felt heavier. The air around them felt like it was stifling him. The silence was far too loud in his ears. His sisters had rooms farther down the hall in the wing, yet he could not hear them.
By the time they reached his wife’s door, he could barely draw breath.
Her hand trembled against his arm as he opened the door for her. It swung open to the brightly lit room. Obviously, her maid had been in to light the way in anticipation of her arrival.
From his position at the door, Nathanial could see the large canopy bed, draped with the faded red fabric that had adorned it since his mother’s day. The distance between the door and the bed yawned wide, and he leaned back away from it, metaphorically digging his heels in.
His wife looked up at him, her lips slightly parted, long lashes sweeping against her cheek.
“Are… are you coming in?” She sounded hesitant. Unsure.
But not unwelcoming.
Nathanial felt his mouth go dry.
The conflicting urges within him—to haul her into the room or to run down the hall to his own refuge—battled inside him. It felt as though he was being torn apart by the indecision.
Her head tilted back, like she was hoping for a kiss.
“I have a headache,” Nathanial blurted out.
Turning, he fled the field, already cursing himself under his breath, but he did not look back to see how she received his excuse.
He strode—quickly, but he was not running—as fast as he could to his own room and did not take a full breath until he was inside with the thick wooden door between him and his wife.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the hard surface, letting his head thud onto it. There was another door, of course, the one between their rooms, but he was not going anywhere near that.
Not right now.
Not until he could wrestle his unruly emotions into some semblance of concord.