Chapter Sixteen #2
Lost as he was in the memories, he didn’t realize how long he’d been standing in front of the door, his fist poised to knock. There was no sound coming from inside the room, so perhaps Frances had fallen asleep in the time since Sarah left her, in which case they could discuss things at breakfast.
He knocked and heard a small bang, then the rustling of sheets, before Frances’ voice called out, “You may come in, my lord,” sounding entirely uncertain.
Nathaniel took a deep breath before he walked in and found Frances sitting up in the bed, looking as terrified as she had the day of the garden party. It killed him.
He’d expected a sensible nightgown like his sisters wore, but Frances’ was white, with pale pink accents, and the lace wasn’t just an embellishment, it was the fabric the gown was made of.
With nothing underneath.
Nathaniel knew averting his eyes would be insulting, which wasn’t his intention, but looking at her stirred things in his loins, which then affected his heart, and he couldn’t take that, not tonight, not on top of everything else.
“I hope you’ve found everything you need?” His voice came out gruff. He had to clear his throat to finish the sentence.
“Yes, my lord, everything is wonderful. My lady’s maid was most helpful.”
“Yes, Sarah.” He was relieved by the distraction. “Her grandmother was Grandmama’s lady’s maid, so our mothers grew up somewhat together. When Mrs. Grimes died, my mother ultimately took Sarah in.”
“Like family?” Frances asked, but he didn’t hear any judgment, or even confused curiosity; it was like she understood.
“As much as decorum will allow,” he agreed, quickly looking away when his eyes wandered, resisting an urge to sit on the bed with her, to put his hand over hers so it might stop shaking.
He’d assumed she was shivering from the cold, but the fire in the hearth made the room stifling.
He loosened his collar instead, instantly regretting it when he noticed her reaction.
Frances shifted, moving her body closer to his, yet farther at the same time. He would have been amused if she were anyone else, not his wife.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he assured her, keeping his distance, his voice even.
“About?”
“We won’t do any of…that,” he said simply. “These are your chambers, so other than your maids, no one else should bother you inside.”
“You’re not locking me in, are you?” She said it like she was teasing, but she was clearly nervous. Maybe disappointed?
“Of course not.”
She gave him a smile, but looked upset. And overwhelmed.
“You’re never on your own, though, if you don’t want to be. You can ring the bell for help at any time, night or day, and if there’s anything, I’m next door.”
“Of course.”
“In the morning, after breakfast, I thought I might give you a tour, so you know the house, but Stevens can tell you more about the actual running of it. Feel free to participate in that as much or as little as you like.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I think, after everything, you can bring yourself to call me Nathaniel,” he said, though he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her in this setting.
“Of course.”
“Goodnight, Frances.”
“Goodnight, Nathaniel.”
He lingered at the foot of her bed, reminding himself to focus on her eyes, not to look down, but there was a sadness in them that made him want to either take her in his arms or turn away.
“Goodnight, then,” he repeated himself before leaving her alone and retreating to his chambers lika a coward.
Frances shivered when Nathaniel left, even though the room was hotter than her greenhouse in August. Their marriage wasn’t a real one, but she had thought they’d at least make it so in the eyes of the law.
One night where she could pretend it was.
Or maybe she’d tricked herself into believing that after everything, Nathaniel might have changed his mind, or decided to make the most of their situation.
When he’d promised to be faithful to her in his proposal, she’d fully intended to tell him he needn’t worry about such things, that she perfectly understood theirs was a marriage of convenience, bound by different vows, but now she hoped he meant it.
She knew how unlikely it was that Nathaniel Sutton, of all men, could be celibate for the rest of his days, but she also knew that her heart wouldn’t recover from such a betrayal.
Her heart would break, and she’d be forced to love him with all its tiny little pieces.
Maybe Nathaniel was holding back because he thought that was what she wanted. He’d made it sound like a kindness, telling her not to worry. Perhaps she should speak to him about it? He said she could go to him if there was anything…
Frances was still debating what qualified as ‘anything’ when she remembered the disgust in his voice when he’d first seen her on the bed. The way he recoiled every time his eyes accidentally landed on her body instead of the bedframe.
No, she wouldn’t bother him about such nonsense, she decided, putting on her sleeping bonnet and getting ready for bed.
Frances knew her place. She would be the best wife and lady of the house, and even if Nathaniel never felt the same, she would love him with her whole heart and do her best to make him happy.
Even if that meant keeping her distance.