Chapter Thirteen
Emilia’s gaze wandered from the pages of the book in her lap to her husband, who was sitting by the fire with his own book in hand.
The library was completely silent, save for the crackling of the burning logs in the hearth and the punctuated sound of Charlotte’s needle piercing the fabric she was aggressively embroidering.
They had just finished a pleasant and relatively uneventful dinner, the first that the three of them had shared since the wedding nearly a week ago. Since the morning Nathaniel had discovered her in the kitchen, Emilia had noticed his presence much more frequently.
Emilia supposed he was doing his best to put forth an effort—if they were to grow more comfortable in one another’s presence, it only made sense that they should spend more time with one another. Yet Emilia found that she could learn much more about her husband when he was not around.
His duties in Parliament kept him busy, giving Emilia plenty of time to converse with the staff, all of whom, she was very quickly learning, absolutely adored their duke.
Not outwardly—they wouldn’t dare. When face to face with the Duke of Kenswick, they were poised and properly attentive—but Emilia had seen them lingering in dark corners and alcoves, following him like shadows, meeting his every need, even when they went unspoken—which they often did.
For the most surprising detail Emilia had learned about the man she had married was that he did not seem to know how to receive the care he so diligently bestowed upon others.
Nathaniel turned the page of the book he was reading, adjusting its position in his lap. Emilia’s brow furrowed as she caught a glimpse of the word “Agriculture” printed on the cover.
“This is torturous, Nathaniel!” Charlotte gracefully threw herself across the settee and draped an arm dramatically over one eye. Emilia disguised her laugh as a cough as she caught Nathaniel’s exasperated gaze as he looked up from his reading.
“It seems to me the only thing being tortured is your poor handkerchief.” Nathaniel nodded at the mangled fabric inside of Charlotte’s embroidery hoop. “I had not realized needlework could be such a perilous undertaking.”
Charlotte let her arm fall away, sending her brother a daring glare. “It is going to be a pillow.”
“It is going to be in tatters if you do not take more care,” Nathaniel turned his attention back to his book. Emilia shook her head with a chuckle.
“Perhaps I would not be reduced to such exertions if I had other pursuits to occupy my energy,” Charlotte said.
Those who feared the Duke of Kenswick did so for good reason. Emilia had seen firsthand how quickly his gaze turned to ice when he had silenced her uncle. And yet, as hard as he tried, his youngest sister refused to be intimidated.
Charlotte turned to Emilia. “Are you not terribly bored, Emilia?” Her voice pleaded as she offered a secret wink. “Does it not feel as though my brother has made a prisoner of you rather than a wife? Not even permitting you the liberty of leaving the house.” She gave a small, delicate tsk.
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed on his sister, but then his gaze flickered uneasily towards Emilia. “Do you feel imprisoned, my dear?”
Emilia’s face flamed when he addressed her. He had not used the endearment since that morning in the kitchen, and she had nearly forgotten they had agreed to it. She could feel Charlotte’s wide eyes fixed on her, and Emilia could hardly hear her own thoughts over the wild beating of her heart.
If asked under any other circumstances, she would not have used the word imprisoned, but if she were honest, she did feel a bit useless. She knew that there were responsibilities she would be expected to take on as duchess, but as of yet, she had no clue what they were.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Whitcombe, had assured her that everything was under control.
Nathaniel had not wished to burden Emilia with the responsibilities in London, rather allowing her the time to adjust to her new life before needing to step into her role as duchess when they returned to Rosemore Hall.
She had not received a single caller since the wedding, and at Nathaniel’s request that she and Charlotte stay out of society’s eye, they had not even ventured outside of Kenswick House.
She was afraid that Nathaniel truly had come to regret his decision to marry her. Perhaps her uncle was right in saying there was something in her too weak to carry the weight of any true responsibility, and that was something that Nathaniel now saw in her.
Nathaniel was still watching her with quiet anticipation, expecting an answer.
“Perhaps a little,” Emilia said.
Charlotte laughed, and Nathaniel’s face fell just a bit.
“Truly?”
“I think imprisoned is too strong a word,” Emilia quickly corrected. “But I do wonder if we are perhaps being overly cautious.”
Her uncle would have scolded her for speaking against his decisions, but Nathaniel simply sat in silence as he pondered her words. It was not that she truly had any desire to socialize, but poor Charlotte did, and Emilia felt guilty for being the reason her debut season had been derailed.
“The longer we hide,” Emilia continued, “The more it may seem as though we have something to hide.”
Nathaniel watched her silently, and Emilia held her breath, afraid she had pushed too far.
He closed his book and rose from his chair. “Charlotte, could you give us a moment alone, please?”
Charlotte dramatically rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged on her lips as she turned to leave the room. “It must be nice to be married,” she chuckled over her shoulder, shutting the door behind her.
Emilia’s heart stuck in her throat, and she slowed her breathing so the air could still flow around it.
Nathaniel was facing the fire, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.
The longer he remained silent, the louder her heart beat.
She had not anticipated him getting angry, but then again, she supposed she did not truly know him.
“Are you unhappy?” His words were whispered so softly into the fire that Emilia barely heard them.
“I beg your pardon?” She asked.
Nathaniel turned towards her, but his eyes were not full of anger. Emilia stood and took a step towards him, her breath catching when she recognized the flickers of fear he was trying so hard to hide.
“Are you unhappy?” He asked again. “Do you feel as though I have entrapped you?” He did not meet her eyes, but instead slowly reached for her hand.
Emilia dared not move as he gently brushed his fingers over hers. The warmth of his skin against hers trailed up her arm and sent a chill through her entire body.
“No,” she shook her head and took a deep, steadying breath before she spoke again. “I am perfectly content. I am sorry I implied otherwise.”
“Do not be sorry,” his gaze snapped up to hers. “If that is how you feel, I want to know.”
“You did not entrap me, Nathaniel,” she tried to reassure him. “You saved me…twice.”
Nathaniel laughed, the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. “So you admit that you needed saving?”
Neither of them had yet to broach the subject of the morning on the Thames, and Emilia was hoping to buy a little more time before having to divulge her secrets.
Perhaps someday she would have the courage to tell him that he had saved her from far more than he realized, and that she never felt freer than she did the day she became his wife.
But for now, she simply wished to calm his fears.
“You were acting on honor, and that is all that matters.”
Nathaniel’s eyes desperately searched her face, and for a moment, Emilia was afraid he would find the words she was holding back.
His hold on her hand tightened, and he took a step closer.
When his gaze dropped to her lips, Emilia’s world narrowed to the space between them.
She did not know if he would lean in to close the gap, or if he even wanted to, but the thought that he might tied her stomach into knots.
“I am worried about Charlotte,” Emilia blurted.
Nathaniel lifted his eyes back to hers. He cleared his throat, taking a step back. His usual, calm composure slipped flawlessly back into place. “How so?” He asked.
If the skin on Emilia’s wrist were not still tingling from where his fingers lingered just moments before, she would have thought she imagined the entire encounter. She forced her mind to clear as she replied.
“It has not even been a month since the Beckley ball, and she is simply beside herself being cooped up like this.”
“I know,” Nathaniel sighed. “I wrote to our sister Adeline and suggested that Charlotte spend a few weeks with her and her husband away from London. She is not going to be happy, but I think it may be best to delay her season in London for another year, at least”
“Do you truly think the gossip will be that bad?” Emilia asked.
Nathaniel had turned away from her again, and she took the opportunity to study him closely.
Nothing in his demeanor gave any indication that he was affected at all by what had nearly occurred.
She was unsure how the moment could have shifted so suddenly, and now it was gone as quickly as it had come.
“No,” Nathaniel replied. “Truthfully, I do not know if anyone cares about how we were married. The fact that I took a wife at all is going to cause enough of a stir.” His shoulders heaved with a deep sigh, and his voice lowered.
“I can not afford any distractions when I am supposed to be ensuring Charlotte’s future. ”
Emilia’s chest tightened at the realization of how much guilt he was still carrying—not just because of her. Every second he had spent with Emilia that night in the Beckley’s garden was time Charlotte had been left without a chaperone.
“Nathaniel, Charlotte is lucky to be under your care,” Emilia said softly, instinctively reaching for his hand to cradle his wrist the way he had hers. The exhaustion etched into the lines around his eyes made her own feel heavy with tears.
“Perhaps it would ease your mind if you did not have to manage her entirely on your own.”
Nathaniel breathed a humorless laugh. “I can not successfully keep a lady’s companion in employ. She scares them.”
“I was not referring to a companion.” Emilia pulled gently on Nathaniel’s hand, leading him to the settee.
“You are Charlotte’s guardian, and I am your wife,” she said the moment he was seated beside her. “You no longer need to bear the sole responsibility for her well-being.”
Nathanie’s eyes were tired, but they brightened with his soft smile. “What are you suggesting?”
Emilia measured her next words carefully. As much as it would give her a feeling of purpose to help guide Charlotte, if it caused the duke to worry even more, it would be all for nothing.
“I agree that she should leave London and have her proper season next year. But until then, leave her to me. We can walk Rotten Row, visit the shops, and take tea with other ladies. Just for a few days until you arrange her travel.”
Emilia watched Nathaniel turn her words over in his mind. She wondered when was the last time someone worried about him as much as he worried about everyone else.
∞∞∞
Nathaniel was certain his heart would simply give up and stop beating. He thought it had the moment he had taken her hand and felt her soft skin beneath his fingers. He had gone lightheaded, which was the only explanation for why he had nearly kissed her.
They were more strangers than they were husband and wife. She said she was content with him—which was a far cry from declaring she wanted him to pull her into his arms and press his lips to hers.
Just when he thought he had regained control over his heart and mind, she reached out for his hand to comfort him.
She began talking about how much she cared for Charlotte and wanted to ease his burdens.
The rhythm in his chest was more restless and uncontrollable than the river during a summer storm.
Legally, Nathaniel had been his sisters’ guardian since he came of age. In truth, he had been responsible for them since he was twelve years old.
Only a few months after losing his father, Nathaniel became the unexpected Kenswick heir. Their family was afforded more allowance than his father had ever been able to provide for them, but instead of using the funds set aside for their family’s care, his mother had squandered every penny.
She traveled freely between Bath and London, leaving the household and her two young daughters in disarray. Nathaniel had been sent away to Eton for an education, and was constantly sick with worry over his sisters.
During one of his visits home, he had found their housekeeper in the role of governess—whether because a spirited three-year-old Charlotte had driven the last one off, or her wages had not been paid, he could not be sure.
He made arrangements for Adeline to be sent away to school, and Charlotte was placed under the care of the late Lord Blackburn and his wife. It was an unusual arrangement, but Oliver was his dearest friend, and his parents were the only ones whom Nathaniel trusted with his sister’s care.
When Nathaniel finally left Eton and took up residence at Rosemore Hall, his sisters had come to live with him. They saw very little of their mother until Nathaniel came into full control of the estate, and she found it necessary to appeal to him directly for more funds, rather than his solicitor.
He knew there were times he was too hard on Charlotte, and she did not always deserve it.
But he had spent too many years fearing what would happen to her when no one was watching.
Perhaps that was the truth behind why he had not found a replacement for Charlotte’s last companion—he did not trust anyone else to watch over her the way he did.
But he was the one who had failed her at the Beckley Ball.
Perhaps Emilia was right—he could not do it all alone.
“She would probably be happier with a little more freedom,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“I think you both would be,” Emilia replied.
Nathaniel sighed, “Alright, I shall release you from your bondage.”
Emilia’s smile brightened as she squeezed his hand, causing Nathaniel’s chest to tighten in return.
This woman was a siren.
The unexpected thought nearly took the breath from his lungs, but once it came, he found himself unable to shake it.
For the harder Nathaniel tried to resist the unexplainable pull he felt towards Emilia, the more desperate he was to draw even closer.