Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Even I wouldn’t have expected this if you’d asked me my predictions at the William’s Garden Party,” Lady Rochefort stated, eying the two of them up and down.
Nathaniel had one of Frances’ hands in his, and the other on the small of her back, guiding her up the stairs.
He was just doing the gentlemanly thing, Frances reminded herself, but he’d made a quip about azaleas, of all things, and she’d laughed, then they’d shared a look that had to be more than platonic.
Frances couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if she’d orchestrated the entrapment herself.
“With all your powers of prediction?” Nathaniel pretended to be shocked. He turned to Frances and explained, “She prides herself on figuring out the ton’s matches before they are announced. So far, the only ones she hadn’t called was us and Lizzie’s.”
“I’m still not convinced I was wrong about that one,” she argued, looking over to Elizabeth. “But I didn’t even have the two of you in contention.”
Frances was about to apologize, but Nathaniel spoke first.
“Sometimes someone comes along and changes all your plans.”
He looked at her with what she could only assume was yearning for Jo, but if she looked up at him without remembering everything she knew, it could also be mistaken as longing for her.
As desire.
“Yes, well, love will do that to you. And might I remind you, Lady Lark, your invitation to my gardens still stands. At your leisure, of course, but the seasons go by so fast these days.”
“Thank you, Lady Rochefort. I am available whenever you are willing to have me.”
“Then I will see you on Wednesday.” The older woman nodded before leaving.
Instead of walking deeper into the crowd of people, Nathaniel guided her to the conservatory, looking around before sneaking them in.
“Rebecca told me they have a collection of exotic plants that I thought you might enjoy,” he said, still looking over his shoulder.
Frances wanted to take a closer look at the yellows and purples she could make out from the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t tear herself away from Nathaniel, who was looking at the plants with such joy and pride, when she knew he couldn’t care less.
“Is that why you insisted we come early?”
“The last bits of sunlight are easier to see by than moonlight, and we aren’t exactly allowed in here.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? Someone finds us in here and forces you to marry me?”
She bit her bottom lip, anxious to see his reaction. Whether his face would drop at the reminder, or he’d laugh it off like that outcome hadn’t been so bad after all.
Nathaniel was shocked for a millisecond before he smiled and looked like he wanted to kiss her.
“We are joking about it.”
She could see him wrestling with himself, but the pounding of her heart was so loud in her ears that she hadn’t noticed anyone come in until a booming, “Lark!” drew Nathaniel’s attention.
“Could I have a word?” the man asked with a polite nod in her direction.
“I’ll go find Rebecca,” she told Nathaniel, needing fresh air to counteract being that close to him, and what she’d hoped might have happened. Which was silly of her.
Rebecca was talking to Lord Bradley by the refreshments. Frances’ first instinct was to find Daisy, or perhaps warn Becca of her sister’s feelings, but it wasn’t like the man was spoken for, he was just someone her sister dreamed about.
“Lady Lark. How good to see you again.”
Rebecca’s prospective suitor looked like he’d been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t.
“And you, Lord Bradley. How is your family?” Frances got nervous every time she was addressed at one of these things, so used was she to her mother handling her conversations, or now Nathaniel.
Not in a rude way for the latter, but she was never the one responsible for introducing people or carrying the conversation.
She had no idea who or what she should be referencing or inquiring about.
“All very well, thank you. Miss Turner, I’ll find you for our dance.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Rebecca smiled at him so brightly that Frances couldn’t say a word about Daisy. At least it wasn’t Dorset.
As soon as Nathaniel stepped into the ballroom, he heard Becca’s laugh, turned, and had the breath knocked out of him at the sight of his wife.
Again. It was becoming a common occurrence.
He’d spent most of the day with Frances, yet it was something that happened when he saw her without expecting it.
Or when she smiled, surrounded by people enthralled by her.
Nathaniel both thanked his lucky stars that she was his, and hated himself for not deserving her. But oh, how he wanted to.
“Not laughing at me, I hope?”
Frances hadn’t noticed Nathaniel until he spoke, so her breath caught when she saw the way he looked at her. Almost imperceptible, but he was watching closely, and she brought her hand to her heart until the beating settled.
“We wouldn’t dare,” Becca assured him, but Lizzie looked like she definitely would.
“Is James avoiding Miss Caulder again?” It wasn’t pressing, but he did have a few questions for his brother.
“Last I saw he was dancing with Daisy,” Becca shared. “He promised to avoid the gardens, and Lizzie punched him for it.”
“In the eye, I hope?”
“Arm, but I put my weight behind it.”
“Care for a walk about the gardens?” Nathaniel offered his arm to his wife. He trusted his brother as much as he trusted himself, but seeing as he was currently married to one of the Plimpton sisters, he wasn’t sure he should leave his brother with the other.
“Lets.”
Luckily, his wife, rather than being offended, was equally concerned for her sibling, so she took his arm, and they made their way to the gardens, the dread in his gut pooling at the same time as the butterflies in his stomach.
“Was your friend well?” she asked.
“Of course. Just concerned about a mutual acquaintance. Nothing to worry about.” But if Davis was right, Mr. Plimpton was currently racking up gambling debts and using the Sutton name for loan extensions.
He tried not to be too obvious about poking his head around bushes and into alcoves, but if Mr. Plimpton was desperate, he might try to ensnare James for Daisy in the same manner as he had Nathaniel for Frances.
“Would you rush to rescue Becca if she was with someone like James?” Frances asked suddenly.
“Not if she liked him,” he said absently.
“Then it’s your brother you are hoping to rescue, not my sister.” Frances sighed, not accusing him outright, but definitely not happy with his answer.
“Daisy is perfectly safe with James,” he started, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t know how to give voice to his actual fear.
“Yet he’s at risk of ending up married to a woman he neither wants nor desires.”
He stopped and pulled her into an alcove so he could face her. It was a testament to her shock that her eyes stayed on him rather than the roses growing on the trellis all around them.
“I wish to protect my brother from being forced into a marriage against his will, as I wish to protect your sister from the same fate.”
“I was wrong to joke about it earlier. This is much too painful.”
Nathaniel grabbed her arm when she went to leave, gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt her, but strong enough that she would stay.
“He knows Daisy. She knows James. If they have any interest in each other, we can nurture it until he proposes, without coercion, and she says yes, because there is nothing she wants more, without a single fear of repercussion if she denies him.”
“Which we didn’t have. You were saddled with—”
“I didn’t know you,” he argued. “Perhaps you might have visited my sisters to share flower secrets, or exchanged pleasantries over lemonade, but we—”
“I don’t know what you’re saying, Nathaniel.”
She didn’t look upset and hurt anymore, more confused and…hopeful? But he wasn’t thinking straight, and he couldn’t drag Frances into his weakness.
“I’m saying…” He sighed, then the skies broke, and rain poured down as if a bucket had been overturned directly above their heads.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around Frances’ shoulders, but she made no effort to leave with him.
“Frances, please, you’ll catch cold.”
“What are you saying, my— Nathaniel?”
He couldn’t be sure, but he got the impression she said it on purpose this time, and that she knew exactly what she was doing.
Which had no influence on his reaction to her, as he felt the words deep in his chest, but also in his groin, which urged him to lead her deeper into the alcove, even as his brain screamed for him to bring her back to the party.
He told himself it was because of the rain, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t— I regret—”
She was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make sense, so he took a moment to gather his thoughts, and explained, “You should have been allowed to choose, Frances. And to know, without a doubt, that the man chose you. That he was in love with you. That you deserve every ounce of happiness in the world, because you do. You deserve someone who can’t breathe when you walk into the room, because the sight of you knocks the air out of their lungs, and the only thing that calms them is your arms. Your voice.
Your love. Frances, you deserve someone who—”
Someone who deserves you, was what he wanted to say, but it was freezing, Frances bit her bottom lip, and she was trembling through the now-transparent dress she was wearing, and his jacket didn’t seem to be helping, so these thoughts all justified his taking her into his arms.
And kissing her.
Which was perhaps a liberty he took, but the rain and the words had made it so he felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe until his lips were on hers, and he was right. His entire body relaxed. But it was also on fire. It was an odd combination that only got better when he pulled her closer.
She kissed him back, tentatively at first, then feverishly, as if his lips held her air supply, and he had a moment to realize how improper this was, how inappropriate, but had someone walked by and they not already been married, he would have procured a special license just so he didn’t have to stop kissing her.
“Daisy,” Frances muttered, with way more sense than he had, as it took him a moment to even remember who Daisy was.
Nathaniel took Frances’ hand and guided her back to the ballroom, with every intention of telling her to wait inside while he went back out and found her sister, but Daisy was already standing between Becca and Lizzie, waiting for them.
“You look like you fell into the Thames,” Daisy observed.
“We were looking for you,” Frances explained, her face flushed as she kept looking back to Nathaniel.
Did she also wish she was back in the rain, kissing him?
Or did she want to tell him he’d gone too far and needed to stay away from her.
He knew there were a million reasons he’d come up with for why he couldn’t do this, and they would all come back to him if he let them, but he didn’t.
He wouldn’t.
“We took a turn around the room, but didn’t dare explore the gardens.” His brother gave him a knowing look, but Nathaniel turned to Frances rather than acknowledge it.
“We should return home so Frances can get warm. James, will you escort the girls home?”
Without waiting for his brother’s acquiescence, he turned back to Frances and offered her his arm.
Nathaniel could feel Frances’ eyes on him their entire walk to the carriage. The kind thing to do would be to give her a reassuring smile, to let her know he wasn’t upset, but he knew that if he looked at her now, he couldn’t be held responsible for what he did next.