Chapter Forty-Eight
Rebecca and Grace talked incessantly most of the carriage ride, and while Frances contributed, she was more subdued, less free than she had been last night, and Nathaniel knew it was his fault.
“Do you need a new jacket? Or a hat?” Grace asked, bringing him into their conversation.
“I’m merely here for the company.”
“He never comes with us. It’s always Lizzie’s job,” Grace shared, in case Frances didn’t already know he’d come because of her.
Once they arrived, he had every intention of staying in the carriage until they were ready for ices, or strolling into the club for a quick drink.
But when he saw Frances lingering by the door, watching his sisters without looking at any dresses herself, he took it upon himself to remedy the situation.
“You’re not partaking?” Nathaniel asked as he approached Frances from behind, surprising her. She’d assumed he would wait in the carriage.
“Perhaps later,” Frances assured him. She’d been hoping to have a private word with the modiste to possibly prepare some looser dresses, but she wouldn’t dare risk such a conversation with Nathaniel watching. “For the moment, my opinion is greatly needed.”
Grace was holding up two fabrics, so Frances nodded towards the green one. There would be plenty of time to get new dresses once she knew for certain and was able to talk freely about it.
“Are they bothersome?”
“No, of course not. I’m used to having sisters, and yours happen to be wonderful.”
“I agree, though I may be biased.”
“You’ve done an excellent job,” Frances said, realizing it wouldn’t be the first time he ended up raising a child he hadn’t expected to. If their child turned out anything like Nathaniel’s siblings…she couldn’t ask for more.
“Thank you.” Nathaniel’s smile turned serious. “If I fail at everything else, as long as they’re settled and happy, I’ll have done my job.”
“It’ll take very extraordinary men to get them settled,” she pointed out.
“Yes, I’m beginning to suspect as much. Rebecca would settle for a footman, but Grace will launch into society with a list of requirements I’m not sure any man could meet.”
“That’s rather unfair to your sex.”
“But accurate. Even I do well on paper, but wouldn’t be suitable for either of them.”
“You’re not—”
“Would you still have chosen me, knowing everything you do now?” Nathaniel cut her off from defending him against himself. He gave her a sad, apologetic smile, as if they both knew the answer.
She wanted to reassure him that of course she would, but he tilted his head, as if warning her he wanted the truth.
The problem was she wasn’t sure if it would be better had she never married him, never became a Sutton, never known what it was like to be loved by him.
Would Frances have made the same decision if she knew everything she knew now?
She suspected the answer would be yes, because half a life was better than no life, but she resisted the urge to put her hand on her stomach, to cradle the thing that guaranteed she would make those exact same decisions, over and over again.
“I would,” she said with confidence. “I’ve said it before, you’re not half as terrible as you pretend to be. I think the person who thinks the least of you is you.”
He took a moment before responding, turning it light. “And yet they reproach me my ego.”
“Well, I didn’t say you were perfect,” Frances teased.
They walked around the shop, giving their opinions on patterns and designs, and whether by a truce or because Frances momentarily forgot she’d recently been hurt by him, they laughed like they used to, huddled under the covers late at night.
At first, Nathaniel only showed Frances fabrics he felt confident she would never willingly wear, but then he threw in a few that would bring a smile to her face, yet she still refused.
“Forgive me, but I’ve never met a woman who refused a new gown,” he said after she shook her head at a golden yellow one that would have her looking like the most beautiful sun he’d ever seen.
Frances would hate to be the center of attention at a grand ball, but she wore a gown every night for dinner, so why couldn’t it be in the color that she loved?
“I don’t think I’d be able to love a new gown properly. I’ve yet to make it through all the ones from last time we came here, not to mention the chests your sister left for me.”
“You don’t have to wear those. Any of them.”
“But they’re so beautiful.”
“Rebecca and Grace can use them if you don’t. And once you’ve all tired of them, my mother brought her gowns to a woman who found them new homes with less wealthy ladies who would treasure them.”
“Are you saying it’s for the good of society if I overindulge?”
“No, but if something makes you happy, I don’t care what society, or my coffers, think.”
“Watching them get excited makes me happy. And if I’m waiting for a new gown from today, I’ll be less excited to wear the older new gowns I couldn’t wait to put on when I looked at them this morning.”
“As wise as you are beautiful.”
While Frances helped the girls make their final decisions, Nathaniel went to the modiste and ordered a gown in Frances’ size, in the golden yellow fabric.
His father used to pick flowers to surprise his mother, whether she needed a smile or simply to let her know he was thinking of her.
Nathaniel wouldn’t dare touch Frances’ garden, but it couldn’t hurt to have a gorgeous gown prepared for the next time he disappointed her.
His nearly thirty years surrounded by women taught him they liked gifts that were planned out in advance and showed she was always on his mind.
Because Frances was. God help him, she always was.