Chapter 13 #2
But of course, he knew that she could not. If she ended the courtship, it would put her family at risk, and he was quickly realizing that that was something she would never do.
“I dislike owing anyone,” she said after a moment.
“You do not owe me.”
“But I do,” she argued. “You may not order it, but I feel it. You have shown me such kindness, and I do not know what you stand to gain from it. You must allow me the dignity of contributing something, lest I feel like I do not have a say in the matter at all.”
“You contribute more than you think.”
“How?”
“You are offering me your company. People do not– they do not often do that, and it is a welcomed change.”
She did not say anything, but she did not need to.
He could tell by the look on her face that she had acknowledged it, and that mercifully she believed it too.
It was the truth; with his sister in hiding he had not had the luxury of company, at least not in the way he had before, but he had found a friend in Miss Fairleigh, and he was determined not to ruin that.
“Tomorrow,” she said finally. “I will come.”
Relief flickered through him before he masked it.
“With my mother,” she added.
“As you wish.”
That seemed to settle something in her. A carriage passed at the edge of the square, wheels grinding softly against the stones. The world continued around them, as if they were utterly inconsequential, but Nathaniel saw the lady beside him as anything but.
“Tomorrow, then,” she said quietly.
“Tomorrow.”
Neither moved immediately. He became aware, abruptly, of how close they stood– close enough that he could see the faint crease between her brows when she thought too hard, close enough to notice the way her fingers tightened slightly against her pelisse.
He did not reach for her hand. He wanted to, but he did not. This time, when she turned to go, she did look back once before reaching the corner. Nathaniel remained where he stood long after she disappeared from view.
Tomorrow would place her within his walls, and for the first time since devising this arrangement, he felt the faint edge of uncertainty.
It was not about her, but about himself.
She had been to his home before, but that had been for a reason.
He did not have one this time, only that he wished to see her.
The following evening, the carriage bearing Margaret and her mother drew to a halt before the wide steps just before six. He watched from the window in his study, then descended before the footman could announce them.
Margaret stepped down first. She wore one of the new gowns. Ivory, understated, and it suited her in a way that unsettled him. Everything that she did, he realized, was beginning to unsettle him.
Her mother followed, composed and observant as ever.
“Your Grace,” she said warmly, and he returned the greeting.
“Shall we?” he asked.
They entered together.
“Good evening, Miss Eliza,” the footman said, bowing too quickly and not looking their way. “What a pleasant–”
Nathaniel did not allow him to finish.
“That will be all,” he said evenly.
The footman faltered as he looked up to see that he was mistaken, and it was possibly the worst mistake that he could have made.
“Your Grace, I understood that Miss–”
“You understood incorrectly.”
The words were calm, but there was a reminder within it not to question him. The servant flushed.
“Forgive me, Your Grace.”
He retreated at once.
Silence followed. Margaret’s gaze had shifted to Nathaniel. He wondered what conclusion she had drawn, and simply hoped that it was not the right one.
“Miss Eliza?” she asked.
“Forgive me, my footman is new. He must have been confused.”
Lady Fairleigh adjusted her gloves lightly, though she said nothing. It was not her place to do so, but then it was not Margaret’s either.
“Of course,” Margaret nodded, though he could see the doubt in her eyes.
He gestured toward the dining room.
“Dinner is waiting.”
She nodded her head and followed. Later, after they were seated and the first formalities had passed, Margaret spoke again, her tone light.
“Miss Eliza must visit often if she is so confidently expected.”
“She does not.”
The reply was immediate, for it had made Nathaniel nervous and he did not want her to question too much, but he would have been lying if he claimed that he was not intrigued by her sudden jealousy.
Margaret’s hand stilled briefly against the porcelain before continuing its slow circle.
“I see.”
He did not elaborate. Fortunately, the silence that followed was not heavy. Lady Fairleigh asked about the gardens, and Nathaniel answered with polite detail. Margaret listened, but he could feel it; the shift in her attention.
When they stepped onto the terrace after the meal, Margaret lingered half a pace behind him.
“You corrected him very quickly,” she said quietly.
“I do not permit speculation among my staff.”
“It did not sound like speculation.”
“No, perhaps not, but it was important that I corrected him all the same, was it not?”
She was quiet for a moment, looking out at the stars.
“If there is someone whose presence I should anticipate,” she continued evenly, “I would rather not be surprised.”
“There will be no surprises.”
She searched his expression for a long moment. He allowed nothing to surface, but in the back of his mind he cursed himself for lying to her.
At last she inclined her head.
“Very well.”
But when she turned toward the gardens, he saw it clearly. She was thinking, and he had given her just enough silence to do so.