Chapter 35
The lady gave a start, jerking her arm out of his and whirling about to stare at him. “Pardon?”
“I want more than your friendship.” For all that the declaration ought to have set his pulse racing, Jonathan’s muscles relaxed as that rightness settled into him.
A smile curved the edge of his lips as a myriad of words entered his thoughts, each begging to be shared, which only made him grin all the more. Love was making him a fool.
“I think of you as my friend, of course, but I constantly wonder when I will see you next and eagerly accept invitations to the most inane events as long as you are there.” Nodding toward the bustling ballroom, Jonathan huffed.
“I didn’t attend more than three gatherings last Season, but since meeting you, I am out more often than I am at home—all because I would rather suffer through this ridiculousness than spend an evening without you.
I wish to be by your side the rest of my days. ”
A corner of Jonathan’s mouth curved upward despite himself. “I realize this is not the most sensible setting for such a declaration. Nor perhaps the most sensible timing considering the matters we have just discussed. But after hearing you insist we were nothing more than friends…”
Jonathan shook his head and said in a wry tone, “I discovered that I dislike the notion rather intensely, and I cannot allow it to remain unchallenged.”
Cool night air stirred through the courtyard whilst music drifted from the ballroom in soft strains, yet Jonathan scarcely noticed anything but the lady before him.
The way her eyes widened impossibly far.
The delicate rise and fall of her breath.
The flush along her cheeks and the graceful line of her throat.
And to Jonathan’s own astonishment, warmth and light spread through him.
He had expected awkwardness perhaps. Panic certainly.
Yet he felt lighter than he had in months, and the admission sat comfortably inside him, fitting into his heart with such ease that he couldn’t comprehend why he hadn’t recognized the truth before.
“What say you?” he asked.
Miss Eden stared at him for a long moment before a single word escaped her lips: “No.”
*
The answer ripped free, tearing through her like a serrated knife, as every aching, hopeful part of her yearned to surge forward and embrace Mr. Hatcher.
His declaration moved through her with agonizing sweetness, settling into all the hollow places of her heart as though they had been crafted precisely to fill them, a jeweler’s most precious pieces sliding into the case created for them.
Though not the first time someone had spoken to her of love, no one had done so with such simplicity and certainty. Jonathan Hatcher spoke with all the truth of his heart, laying it bare without forethought. No flowered words or grand affectations.
But her certainty crumbled beneath her feet, leaving her with doubts about her discernment, doubts about her feelings, and even doubts about her doubts.
Regardless, Nora would ruin him. Scandals never remained in tidy confines.
Like locusts, they spread through families, friendships, and acquaintances, eating away until there was nothing left.
Investors would flee. Contracts would disappear.
His good name would be dragged through drawing rooms and newspaper columns until his reputation was in tatters.
Perhaps this business with Papa was all a misunderstanding. Perhaps.
“I am honored that you think so highly of me.” Nora’s voice wobbled, but she forced herself to remain still whilst every desperate part of her begged to embrace him.
“But I do not wish to court anyone. Everyone knows I have no interest in marriage, and I never gave any indication that I wish for more than friendship.”
For one terrible instant, surprise dawned on his face as clear and bright as a summer’s morn. Not outrage. Not anguish. Simple bewilderment.
Mr. Hatcher’s eyes fixed upon her, capturing her with that intensity that never failed to discompose her, and Nora’s pulse quickened.
Turning away before he could see more than she wished, she mumbled an excuse and gathered her skirts, stepping toward the safety of the ballroom before her resolve crumbled entirely.
But a gentle hand closed around her arm, stopping her in place.
“Miss Eden.”
Something in his tone stopped her more surely than his touch, and Nora turned slowly as he let his arm fall to his side. Even in the dim half-lit courtyard, she could see how intently he watched her, his expression held in check by an effort that made the restraint more revealing, not less.
“You are a wretched liar,” he whispered.
“I am not lying.” But Nora wished her tone supported her assertion. Or that her words held even a morsel of truth.
Mr. Hatcher nodded, though his eyes traced her features like a caress, seeing straight through the facade as if it were nothing.
“I will honor your choice, Miss Eden, but know that if you require anything, do not hesitate to call on me. If friendship is all you are willing to give, I will be your faithful friend until the end of my days. I will never turn you away. But I know what I desire, and my heart will not change.”
The words slipped through Nora’s hastily erected defenses with terrifying ease. No anger. No demands. No wounded pride seeking to punish her for the refusal. Mr. Hatcher simply stood before her offering constancy with such unguarded sincerity that for one reckless instant she nearly broke.
Why must he be so good?
Nora feared that another word might undo her entirely, that if she looked at him for a second longer beneath that golden twilight, she would abandon every sensible instinct and throw them straight into destruction.
So gathering her fraying composure like a cloak, she forced her feet to the ballroom doors once more, and each step was heavier than the last, as though ropes bound them, pulling her back to the gentleman who stood alone in the darkness and shadows of the courtyard.
The brightness of the ballroom pierced Nora’s eyes.
Music swelled in the air whilst couples laughed and turned across the polished floor, utterly untouched by the catastrophe unraveling quietly amongst them.
Somewhere near the card room, someone erupted into loud laughter, and the whole house glittered with comfort and prosperity and careless delight.
Standing in the midst of it all was Papa.
Gentlemen clustered round him, and Lord Lombard laughed warmly at some remark, one hand resting upon another man’s shoulder with easy familiarity, the very picture of gracious success and benevolence.
Watching him there amidst the glow of gaslight and affection, Nora’s blood ran cold.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Nora stopped near the edge of the ballroom, her fingers curling tightly against her skirts as the weight of it pressed harder and harder against her chest. Mr. Hatcher believed her, yet even he struggled to embrace the enormity of the accusation.
And if a man as intelligent and honorable as him hesitated, what hope had she of convincing anyone else?
What proof did she possess beyond one stolen report and a growing pile of untrustworthy instincts?
Yet could she remain silent whilst more flocked to Eden & Co.? Doing nothing would only grant Papa more time. More victims. More lives quietly drawn into whatever ruin waited beneath the glittering surface of Eden & Co.
The questions followed her relentlessly as Nora crossed the ballroom to the entrance hall, scarcely noticing the curious glances that trailed after her.
She could not endure another moment beneath this roof, feigning normalcy whilst her whole world splintered apart.
Home was just as unbearable, yet there was nowhere else to go.
The footman at the door straightened as she approached, and Nora heard herself ask for a cab in a voice that sounded far steadier than she felt. With a bow, he hurried off to summon one, leaving her beneath the shelter of the portico.
Behind her, the Willards’ house blazed on as though nothing had altered.
Music spilled through the open doors, followed by bursts of laughter and the lower murmur of voices, all of it belonging to a world still turning in perfect ignorance.
The ball continued without her, bright and orderly and untouched by her turmoil, and beyond the steps, the square lay quiet, the dark fronts of the neighboring houses offering no direction or refuge.
Slowly, Nora’s hand rose to the folded report hidden beside her ribs. The paper bent faintly beneath her palm, fragile enough to tear yet dangerous enough to alter the very course of her life, but whatever she chose to do with it, the future she wanted was already slipping beyond her reach.