Chapter 28
The ballroom doors had scarcely closed behind him when Nathaniel heard his name.
“Your Grace.”
He turned to see Miss Arabella Vaughn standing at the edge of the corridor, half in shadow, her hands clasped before her as though she had been waiting some time. The light from the ballroom caught in the pale shimmer of her gown, but her expression was unusually serious.
“I do not have time for this,” he warned.
“Nathaniel,” she said more quietly. “May I have a moment? It is about your sister.”
The words halted him at once.
“Eliza?” he asked, frowning slightly. “What of her?”
Arabella glanced toward the open ballroom doors, where the music and voices of the gathering swelled warmly into the hall.
“Not here,” she said. “It is delicate information, and I cannot risk it being heard. Regardless of what you think of me, I have always been fond of her. I wish to protect her almost as much as you do.”
Nathaniel hesitated only a moment. Eliza’s future had been a matter of quiet concern these past months, and if Arabella truly possessed information, he had to know of it.
In spite of her sudden appearance after his wedding, he did not hate the girl.
He felt for her, and he knew he had done wrong, and so if she wanted to help despite that, he could not turn her away.
“Very well,” he said shortly.
She led him down the corridor and into the library. The door closed softly behind them, muffling the orchestra until only a distant murmur remained. Nathaniel turned toward her at once.
“Very well. What is it you wished to tell me?”
For a moment Arabella did not answer. She moved a few steps into the room, her fingers trailing lightly along the back of a chair. Then she looked at him, and something in her expression had changed.
“There are so many people here tonight,” she said softly. “It is almost overwhelming.”
Nathaniel’s patience thinned immediately.
“You said this concerned my sister.”
Arabella smiled faintly, though there was something strained in it.
“Yes. Of course. Eliza.”
She stepped closer. Nathaniel remained where he was.
“But I must admit, I have been watching you tonight,” she continued. “You and your duchess. The perfect couple.”
There was a quiet emphasis on the last two words. Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened.
“Miss Vaughn, this is not–”
“You look very happy,” she went on, ignoring the warning in his tone. “And yet I wonder if it is truly as simple as it appears.”
“That will do.”
Her eyes flickered with something almost desperate.
“You cannot expect me to pretend nothing existed between us,” she said. “Not after everything we shared.”
Nathaniel’s expression hardened at once.
“Miss Vaughn,” he said coldly, “whatever existed between us ended long ago.”
She shook her head.
“No,” she said quietly. “Not like that. Not so easily. I know you, Nathaniel. I know that you feel things so very deeply, even if you pretend not to. You cannot simply extinguish it all because of a marriage arranged by circumstance.”
“My marriage,” he said sharply, “is neither your concern nor your subject for speculation. Not, for that matter, is it merely one of convenience.”
“You cannot truly mean that you feel nothing now,” she said. “That you never think of us. I know that you did once before. I should have been where she is now, and I know that you pitied a maid, but–”
“Enough.”
The word cut through the room like a blade. Nathaniel’s patience had vanished entirely. His voice, when he spoke again, was controlled but unmistakably hard.
“Listen to me very carefully, Miss Vaughn. Whatever sentiment you imagine remains between us exists only in your imagination. I am married. My loyalty belongs to my wife, and I will not tolerate anyone, least of all you, speaking of her or of my marriage in this manner.”
Color rose in Arabella’s face. It might have painted him to be so cruel, but he had no choice. He had to be clear in his words if she was to understand, and if she was hurt by that then she should not have risked herself that way.
“You are dismissing me as though I meant nothing to you. Did you expect me simply to disappear after all that you promised me?”
“I expect you to behave with the dignity appropriate to a guest in my home. And more importantly, I expect you to stay well away from my wife.”
A flicker of something dark crossed Arabella’s expression.
“So she is the reason for all of this.”
“She is my wife,” Nathaniel said. “That is reason enough.”
“But I could have made you so happy, Nathaniel. You and I could have been so happy, but you chose her. It is not too late, though. You could seek an annulment, tell the truth, that she used you for your money–”
“As you did. Is that what you mean?”
For a moment the room was very still. Then, Nathaniel stepped back toward the door.
“This conversation is finished.”
His hand closed around the handle.
“If you value your place in society at all, Miss Vaughn, you will forget whatever foolish ideas led you to this room tonight.”
She reached out suddenly and caught the sleeve of his coat. The gesture was familiar enough to stir memory, though he did not allow it to linger.
“Arabella,” he said calmly, “release my arm.”
She did not.
“Your marriage is already precarious enough as far as the ton is concerned,” she said.
“Explain what you mean.”
“Oh, do not pretend ignorance,” she said lightly. “A rushed wedding, a quiet bride from nowhere in particular, a husband who disappears most mornings before anyone has seen him take breakfast. People talk.”
“They always do.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But lately they are curious. It is not only myself that expected us to marry. They are all wondering why you changed your mind so suddenly.”
Nathaniel did not react outwardly, though his attention sharpened. He did not doubt that there were questions as to his change of heart, but he found himself caring for them less and less.
“You should let go,” he repeated. “You can find a husband of your own, rather than making such ridiculous attempts to steal someone else's.”
Arabella tilted her head.
“I only mean to help you.”
“I did not ask for help.”
“You may soon require it.”
“From you?”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I have already declined your assistance once.”
“And yet the present seems so unstable.”
Nathaniel slowly removed her hand from his sleeve.
“Say what you came to say,” he told her.
She watched him for a moment, perhaps noting the absence of anger in his voice. He wondered if that had been part of her plan, perhaps; to infuriate him so much that he lashed out.
“You married her to quiet speculation,” Arabella said.
“No.”
“You married her because it was convenient.”
“No.”
“Then why?” she pressed.
“That is none of your concern.”
“Of course it is,” she said softly. “You and I were nearly engaged.”
“We were not. I did not consider it even once. Therefore, it did not almost happen. It did not happen at all, and the sooner that you accept that, the better you will be for it.”
“It was expected.”
“It did not happen.”
Arabella paced slowly across the room, then turned back toward him.
“You have always been careful,” she said. “So careful that sometimes you forget how things appear.”
“And how do they appear?”
She gestured toward the ballroom beyond the walls.
“Your new duchess plays her part beautifully,” she said. “Graceful. Composed. Very quiet.”
Nathaniel’s expression cooled further.
“She is more than capable.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“Then choose your next words carefully.”
Arabella smiled faintly at the warning.
“You vanish for hours,” she continued. “You return late. You leave her alone among strangers while the rest of us watch.”
“And what exactly are you implying?”
“That marriages built on practicality rarely inspire loyalty,” she said.
Nathaniel took a slow step toward her.
“Margaret’s loyalty is not in question.”
“Perhaps not hers,” Arabella said.
The suggestion hung in the air. Arabella studied him again, as though recalculating.
“Your wife deserves certainty,” she said. “And yet you give her distance.”
“That observation would carry more weight if it came from someone concerned with her welfare.”
Arabella laughed softly. Nathaniel hated that she was right, but he had changed. He planned to give Margaret everything she ever could have wanted. The sooner he was able to leave Miss Vaughn behind, the sooner he could begin to feel better about what had happened before he had met his wife.
“You always did see through me eventually,” she laughed.
“And you always underestimated how quickly I did.”
She folded her arms loosely.
“You could resolve all this very easily,” she said.
“How?”
“By reminding society that you are still a man capable of discretion.”
Nathaniel held her gaze, unimpressed.
“I imagine,” Arabella said coolly, “that your marriage is more fragile than you pretend.”
Nathaniel stepped closer now, close enough that she had to tilt her head to maintain eye contact.
“My marriage,” he said quietly, “is not your concern.”
“But the ton–”
“The ton,” he interrupted calmly, “will believe exactly what I show them. I am their duke. They will bend to my will, and they will certainly believe me over you.”
Arabella searched his face for hesitation. She found none.
“You have changed,” she said.
“No.”
“Yes,” she insisted. “Once, you would have been tempted.”
“Perhaps that was because I had not yet chosen my wife. Perhaps it was because I never cared before, and I would have chosen anyone that asked.”
The certainty in his voice seemed to catch her off guard. For the first time, something like irritation crossed her expression. He hoped that meant something, and that she might realise that she was not going to get what she wanted.
“You are making a mistake,” she said.
“Possibly.”
“You always hated loneliness.”
“I still do.”
“And yet you leave her alone. Not only are you cruel to me, but to your wife, too. Perhaps that is simply your nature, Your Grace.”
Nathaniel’s eyes sharpened. She was trying to anger him, she had to have been, and it was working.
“I will remind you,” he said as calmly as he could, “that I am not as cruel as you pretend I am. A cruel man would not be caring for your family the way I am.”
At that, she seemed to understand at last. Nathaniel had not been certain whether or not she was aware that he had continued to send funds to her father, but he hardly cared about such details. What mattered was that she understood her place. He moved past her and turned to the door.
“Tonight ends this conversation,” he said.
Arabella spoke again before he could open it.
“If your marriage collapses,” she said softly, “do not pretend I did not warn you.”
Nathaniel paused. Then he turned back toward her one last time.
“My marriage,” he said calmly, “will not collapse.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
He turned back to her.
“And if the ton questions it,” he continued, “they will have to question me directly.”
Her gaze shifted– not to him, but just past his shoulder. Toward the doorway. It was quick. Calculated.
Nathaniel’s instincts sharpened immediately.
“Arabella–” he began.
She moved before he could finish.
In a sudden motion she stepped forward, one hand gripping his coat, and pressed close enough that he could feel the movement of her breath. Her lips brushed the side of his neck.
Nathaniel froze. Not from hesitation, but from shock. The contact lasted barely a heartbeat.
But he heard it. A sharp intake of breath behind him.
Margaret.
Nathaniel turned at once. She stood just inside the doorway, one hand still on the frame as though she had stopped mid-step. Her face had gone pale, her eyes fixed on the scene before her.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Arabella stepped back slowly, her expression carefully composed now, though something almost satisfied lingered at the corner of her mouth.
Nathaniel felt anger rise, sharp and immediate.
“Margaret–”
“Stop.”
Her gaze moved from him to Arabella, then back again, searching both of their faces.
“What is this?” she asked quietly.
Nathaniel stepped toward her immediately.
“It is not what you think.”
“It is never what I think,” Margaret’s gaze settled on him again. “Is it? Tell me, did you know she was here?”
“No.”
“And yet she seems very comfortable touching you.”
Nathaniel felt the trap closing around the moment.
“She moved without warning,” he said. “You saw the end of it, not the beginning.”
Arabella folded her arms loosely, leaning against the small table as though enjoying the spectacle.
“Did she?” she murmured. “I wonder.”
Nathaniel ignored her completely now.
“Margaret,” he said, his voice steady but urgent, “I was told Eliza needed assistance. That was the reason I came here.”
Margaret’s expression did not change.
“And then?”
“Then I discovered it was a lie.”
Arabella tilted her head. “Such a harsh word.”
“It was that and nothing else,” Nathaniel replied.
Margaret looked between them again, measuring the space, the tension, the carefully controlled stillness in Nathaniel’s posture. Her gaze drifted briefly to the place at his collar where Arabella’s lips had touched him.
Nathaniel noticed. His voice lowered.
“I did not invite that.”
Arabella smiled faintly.
“You did not resist very quickly. Not until you sensed your wife was there, of course.”
“I froze,” Nathaniel said flatly. “Because it was unexpected.”
Margaret remained very still. Behind him, Arabella spoke again, her tone light.
“You must admit, Margaret, the situation does not inspire confidence.”
Nathaniel turned on her sharply.
“You have said enough.”
“Have I?” she replied.
“Yes.”
Margaret’s voice came quietly between them.
“Why?”
Both of them looked at her.
“Why would you do this?” she asked Arabella.
Arabella’s eyes glittered slightly.
“Because the ton already whispers,” she said. “Because your marriage is fragile. Because sometimes the truth requires encouragement.”
“There is no truth here,” Nathaniel said.
Arabella met his gaze.
“Isn’t there?”
Margaret drew a slow breath. Nathaniel could see the effort it took for her to remain composed in a room that had clearly been designed to humiliate her.
“Whatever this is,” Margaret said quietly. “I want no part in it.”
She left without another word.