Chapter Fifteen
All Nathaniel could think as he looked out at the full audience in St. George’s was that this wasn’t right.
The Montroses were nowhere to be seen, and when the music started, Jo wouldn’t be the one walking towards him, beaming.
He took steadying breaths and smiled politely whenever someone caught his eye, but he was pretty sure he was dying inside.
Then he saw her.
Frances.
All coherent thought left him as his insides jumbled up, and his chest got so tight he could hardly breathe.
It wasn’t even the shock of seeing her in that dress, with her hair done up all pretty.
He could handle that. He could even dismiss the fact that she was wearing his mother’s tiara and clutching his aunt’s pearls when she got nervous.
(Which explained where Rebecca and Elizabeth had disappeared to as soon as they’d arrived at the church.)
What hit him so hard in the chest he was sure he would have toppled over if his brothers hadn’t been standing behind him was how Frances appeared looking gorgeous, but absolutely lost – and somewhat terrified – then smiled when she saw him.
He could see the breath of relief when she locked eyes with him, as if the mere sight of him was calming, and she suddenly knew she would be okay.
The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. The vice around Nathaniel’s heart continued to hold, but it wasn’t so bad when Frances held his hand and looked up at him like he was good and decent. The guilt was unbearable, but at least he could breathe.
Until he kissed her.
He’d meant for it to be a quick, chaste kiss, like the one he would leave on the cheek of a very old great aunt with leathery skin before retreating as soon as possible.
Only once his lips touched Frances’, he felt it not only on his lips, but in his chest, where the tightness became more pronounced, in the pit of his stomach, and lower, in places he did not want to feel it.
He wanted to pull Frances closer, not push her away, and it broke his heart into a million pieces.
He’d kissed his share of women in the years since he lost Jo, but none like that.
Not like he meant it.
He owed it to Frances to do it right and make it believable, but he couldn’t find it in him to be near her after that. It would be too hard to pretend, but with all the emotions of the day, he wasn’t sure which ones he was pretending, exactly.
They took separate carriages to Wiltshire Manor for the breakfast reception, and he immediately sought refuge in dancing with Grace, in letting Frances’ niece and nephew run after him, anything to avoid talking to adults.
Especially not his new wife.
“Are you not joining the festivities?” Lady Rochefort asked Frances, making her way to the dining room
“Of course, I—”
“Ah, I see.” She followed Frances’ gaze to the yard, where Nathaniel had his niece on his shoulders while chasing after her nephew.
Frances had found this room precisely because it seemed to be the only unoccupied one on the first floor, and she needed a moment to breathe and regain her composure, which had quite positively left her the second Nathaniel’s lips had found hers.
She’d never been kissed before, and it felt like her heart hadn’t slowed down since it happened.
She’d wanted to talk to Nathaniel, or at least be close to him, which was the only thing to make her feel better as of late, but he’d been notably absent since they’d left the church.
That is, until she’d found him, and maybe wished he’d stayed hidden.
Watching him with children stirred up feelings she wished she didn’t feel, but absolutely could not get rid of.
“Oh, no, I was simply—”
“He’s your husband now, Lady Lark, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“I wasn’t—That is to say, I…”
Frances let out a breath and cursed how inarticulate she had become, as well as the tear she felt at the corner of her eye. This was not how she wanted anyone to see her, especially not someone as fierce and respected as Lady Rochefort, who she felt certain never cried.
“You love him,” Lady Rochefort said simply.
“It is always terrifying when one first realizes it. The sensible thing would be to go into marriage, or any relationship, like a business transaction. Find the most suited, lay out the terms, follow them, and build a legacy. But I’ve never been sensible.
And honestly, a family is infinitely more rewarding than a legacy.
Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else. ”
Frances fought more tears at the mention of family.
Watching Nathaniel with Abigail and George Jr., she didn’t just want children the way she’d always wanted them, to shower with all the love she was denied and help her forget her loneliness—she wanted Nathaniel’s children.
She wanted to watch him like this for the rest of her life.
In that moment, she decided it was fine if he never loved her; she would never expect him to. It was enough that she would love him, with every fiber of her being, for the rest of her days.