Chapter 27
Margaret awoke slowly.
For a moment she remained still beneath the covers, suspended in that quiet place between sleep and waking where memory had not yet fully returned. Then it did.
It all came back at once; the hallway, their argument, and the kiss that had stolen the breath from her lungs.
She had asked him to stay, and he had, and though all they had done was fall asleep beside one another, it felt like a real start for them.
Warmth spread through her chest before she even opened her eyes.
The bed beside her, however, was empty.
Margaret’s eyes opened fully then. Nathaniel was gone. The sheets beside her had cooled, the faint impression where he had lain already fading. She sat up slowly, brushing a hand across the empty space.
Of course he had left.
The thought arrived quickly, carrying with it the familiar caution she had learned since marrying him. Nathaniel was a man of restraint. Perhaps the night before had been an exception, she considered, and daylight had restored his discipline.
Margaret rose and dressed with quiet efficiency, determined not to dwell too heavily on what might simply have been a moment of weakness on his part. Even so, as she made her way downstairs to the breakfast room, something inside her felt fragile in a way it had not the evening before.
The breakfast room was bright with morning sun when she entered. A tray had already been set upon the small table near the windows with tea, fruit, and fresh bread. It was as though it were any other day.
Margaret had just poured her tea when footsteps sounded in the doorway.
She looked up and saw Nathaniel standing there.
For a moment neither of them spoke. He had removed his coat, his cravat tied less precisely than usual, as though the morning had been busy, but what struck her most was his expression.
He looked different, less guarded. When his eyes found hers, something warm flickered there that had not existed before.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
Margaret’s fingers tightened slightly around the teacup.
“Good morning.”
He stepped into the room, and she stood to greet him. Usually Nathaniel would have taken the chair opposite her, maintaining the polite distance they had grown accustomed to. Instead, he stopped beside her.
“You are up earlier than I expected,” he said.
“I thought you had already decided distance was necessary again.”
His brow lifted faintly. She had not meant to say it so plainly, but if they were to have an honest marriage, then she would also have to partake in it.
“Did you?”
Margaret set down her cup carefully.
“You were gone.”
“I had something to settle this morning.”
“Before dawn?”
“Yes, and you looked far too peaceful to wake.”
Margaret blinked.
“What?”
“You were asleep,” he said, as though the explanation were obvious. “I had no intention of disturbing you.”
The disappointment she had tried to bury shifted slightly, uncertain now.
Nathaniel reached for her then. The movement was so natural it took her by surprise.
His hand slid gently around her waist, drawing her closer until the space between them vanished entirely.
Margaret barely had time to inhale before his other hand lifted lightly to her cheek.
“You assumed I had fled,” he murmured. “After such a lovely night, too.”
“I assumed you had reconsidered.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“I am capable of reconsidering many things.”
“And this?”
He answered by kissing her. It was nothing like the kiss the night before.
That one had been urgent, reckless, driven by weeks of restraint finally breaking loose.
This one was slow, careful. Nathaniel’s lips lingered against hers as though he had all the time in the world.
When he pulled back, he did not release her.
Instead he kissed her again, and again, each kiss softer than the last. Margaret found herself smiling despite the warmth rising to her cheeks.
“You seem certain now,” she said when he finally paused.
“I am certain of very few things,” Nathaniel replied.
“And yet?”
His thumb brushed lightly along the edge of her jaw.
“And yet,” he said quietly, “I find I prefer beginning my mornings this way.”
Margaret felt something in her chest ease in a way she had not realized she needed. The man standing before her now did not look like the distant Duke she had married only weeks ago. He looked like someone unguarded, someone who had finally allowed himself to step closer instead of retreating away.
And as Nathaniel drew her into another quiet kiss in the soft light of the breakfast room, Margaret allowed herself to believe something she had scarcely dared hope before. Everything had changed.
When they did pull apart, Margaret rested her hands lightly against his chest, studying his expression.
“You seem unusually agreeable today,” she said.
“I have been accused of worse things.”
“That is not a denial.”
“No.”
She smiled faintly. For a moment, the room returned to a comfortable stillness. Nathaniel’s gaze drifted briefly toward the window, as though he were organizing his thoughts.
“There is something we should discuss,” he said.
Margaret tilted her head slightly.
“That sounds ominous.”
Nathaniel hesitated only briefly.
“I intend to hold a ball.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“That is unexpected. I mean, it is a welcome change for you, but why begin now?”
His expression softened slightly.
“My sister’s arrangements are nearly complete.”
Margaret’s attention sharpened immediately.
“She claims to have met a man, one that can secure her future, and I know better than to refuse her. With that being said, if we will soon be able to act as any other members of the ton, we ought to do so sooner than later.”
Margaret felt a quiet relief settle in her chest. She had worried about Eliza more than she admitted aloud, though the young woman’s strength had been obvious the moment they met.
“And the ball will serve that purpose,” she said.
“It will. There is another reason for it, of course. I would like you beside me before them all again.”
The words were simple, but something in the way he said them made Margaret’s breath catch almost imperceptibly.
“This house will look to you for it all,” he said quietly. “As Duchess, you are in charge of the preparations, which is why I wished to speak with you about it first.”
“I would love to.”
Nathaniel’s shoulders eased slightly, though the movement was subtle.
“You accepted that rather quickly. You may think on it, if you wish.”
“I do not need to. You trusted me with your sister’s secret. Hosting a ball seems rather small in comparison.”
“That is not how society will view it.”
“Yes, well, society rarely sees clearly.”
“That,” he chuckled as he pushed a curl behind her ear, “may be the truest thing I have heard this morning.”
Margaret stepped back then, though her hand brushed his as she reached for the teapot. Nathaniel took the cup she offered him. For a moment their fingers touched again, and this time neither of them pulled away quickly.
Outside the windows, the estate stretched wide and quiet in the morning light. Inside, the future of Ravensmere, and the strange, unexpected partnership forming between its Duke and Duchess, had just begun to take shape.
Ravensmere had never felt so alive.
Light poured from every window, the household glowing against the soft darkness of the grounds. Carriages rolled steadily up the drive, lanterns swaying as footmen hurried forward to greet the arriving guests.
Inside, music drifted through the open doors of the ballroom, bright violins rising above the murmur of conversation. Margaret stood near the entrance, greeting each guest with easy warmth.
“Welcome to Ravensmere,” she said with a graceful inclination of her head as another couple entered.
The words still felt new, yet the role itself felt surprisingly natural.
Servants moved quietly around her, carrying trays of champagne. The house that had once seemed too large and too quiet now pulsed with life, laughter echoing down the corridors and across the polished floors.
Across the ballroom, Nathaniel stood speaking with a small group of gentlemen, his posture relaxed but attentive. Every so often his gaze swept the room, as though searching for her, and each time it found her.
The evening was unfolding exactly as they had hoped.
Eliza had arrived earlier beside the gentleman she had met, and their presence was received with polite curiosity rather than suspicion.
Society seemed content to accept what it had been given, and Margaret watched as Nathaniel went to meet him in turn.
“Margaret!”
She looked up immediately. Her mother approached, Emily and Poppy close behind her, all three of them looking around the room with open wonder.
“My dear,” her mother said, taking her hands. “This house is magnificent.”
Poppy leaned close with a grin.
“And you are hosting half of London in it!”
“That part still feels slightly unbelievable.”
Her mother studied her face carefully.
“But you look happy.”
Margaret hesitated only briefly. The truth was that she was, indeed, very happy, but there was a part of her that could not yet trust it entirely.
“I am well.”
Emily tilted her head. Margaret never knew what she thought, for it changed so often, but she could hardly blame her sister for that. Margaret hardly knew what to think herself, after all.
“That is not the same thing,” Emily pointed out.
Margaret glanced toward the ballroom again. Nathaniel was now speaking quietly with Eliza. The protective ease in his posture made something in Margaret soften. Poppy followed her gaze instantly.
“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out with clear amusement. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Emily folded her arms, smiling knowingly.
“You were looking at him.”
Margaret felt a faint warmth rise to her cheeks. Her mother noticed at once.
“Margaret,” she said gently, “are you content here?”