Chapter Fourteen
Emilia could not help but smile at the pure joy on Charlotte’s face. They had visited nearly every shop along Bond Street, and still Charlotte showed no sign of tiring.
Currently, she was admiring a colorful window display full of ribbons, and it was undoubtedly the longest she had remained in one place since they stepped out of the carriage that morning.
“I am quite unsure,” Charlotte said, pointing to ghastly orange colored trim. “Whether this color is bold or simply dreadful.”
“I suppose that depends entirely upon who is wearing it,” Emilia replied.
Charlotte glanced at her with a grin and an unspoken challenge twinkling in her eye, but before she could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention over Emilia’s shoulder.
“Emilia!”
Emilia’s smile faltered as she turned to face the familiar voice. Lady Moorfield approached, her arms extended in anticipation of a warm reunion.
“My dear, Emilia,” Lady Moorfield said. The smile that stretched across her lips was brighter than Emilia had ever witnessed. “How very fortunate to have happened upon you.”
“Aunt,” Emilia replied, allowing her hands to be taken into a tight grasp. “How are you?”
“Quite well, though I admit, I have been kept in some suspense.” Her smile brightened even more. “We have not yet received your reply to our invitation.”
Emilia’s stomach clenched, full of regret over not posting the refusal immediately.
“Our plans have been under some consideration,” she said carefully. “I intended to send word shortly, but I do not believe we shall—”
“Oh, my dear, you must not trouble yourself with haste,” Lady Moorfield interrupted lightly, the grip on Emilia’s hands tightening. “I know how very occupied His Grace must be. But it would give us the greatest pleasure to have you. We have missed you, Emilia.”
Emilia resisted the urge to scoff. It was hard to imagine they would be able to miss something they had once tried so hard to pretend did not exist.
She wanted to refuse her outright, but she could not do so while standing in the middle of the busy streets, within earshot of everyone passing by. She would not embarrass Nathaniel further by causing a scene.
“I shall speak with my husband,” she said, pulling her hands from her aunt’s grasp. “You shall receive our answer soon.”
Lady Moorfield gave a satisfied sigh. Emilia could tell by the pointed look in her eye that she already considered the matter settled.
“I knew you would not disappoint us, Emilia.”
Emilia tried not to let the words hurt, but she felt the sting of them just as she did the marks that now graced her skin where her aunt’s nails had dug into her wrist.
Lady Moorfield’s attention quickly turned to an uncharacteristically quiet Charlotte.
“Lady Charlotte, you must forgive me for not including you in our invitation,” she preened. “I was uncertain whether you had yet been formally presented.”
Charlotte responded with an exaggerated smile. “No offense taken, Lady Moorfield. I am grateful, for you have spared me the trouble of declining.”
Lady Moorfield laughed, but the sound was strained. “How very droll.” She turned back to Emilia. “We are looking forward to your reply.”
Emilia simply nodded in agreement before slipping her arm through Charlotte’s and leading her towards their waiting carriage. They had not gone more than a few steps before Charlotte leaned in close.
“You handled that remarkably well,” she whispered.
Emilia exhaled softly, smiling at the young girl. “And you showed admirable restraint. Thank you, Charlotte.”
“Of course,” Charlotte replied. “I am in possession of some restraint, despite what my brother believes. It is not my aim in life to cause humiliation…at least not publicly.”
Emilia laughed, and Charlotte’s grin widened. “Would you like to know what I wished to say?”
Emilia shook her head, “I have a feeling that I do not.”
Charlotte continued on, entirely undeterred. “I wished to tell her that invitations are better received when not twisted to feel like obligations. And if she so desperately wishes for the pleasure of your company, then perhaps she should have cherished it more when she possessed it.”
She turned to Emilia, her smile softening. “And should she ever dare to corner you publicly again, I am quite certain my brother will show far less restraint than even I.”
Emilia laughed nervously. “I imagine your brother has far greater things to worry about than my aunt.” Despite her objections a fluttering feeling had already taken flight in her stomach at the thought of Nathaniel coming to her rescue.
Charlotte stepped up to the carriage, taking the hand of the waiting footman as she glanced back at Emilia. “I do not think he would agree, my dear.”
∞∞∞
Nathaniel did not immediately look up when the knock sounded at his study door.
“Come in,” he called, his attention still on the reports covering his desk.
The door opened softly, followed by the gentle scent of fresh roses that had been occupying his thoughts since the night he had held Emilia in the hedge maze.
“Am I interrupting?” She asked with a whisper.
Nathaniel closed the ledger and lifted his gaze to hers. “No, not at all.”
Emilia stepped inside his study, gently closing the door behind her. An uneasy feeling settled in Nathaniel’s chest. He knew that she and Charlotte had gone to town that morning, and her nervous demeanor was causing his mind to form far too many unpleasant scenarios.
“Emilia, is something wrong?”
“No,” she answered quickly, but she did not relax. “But there is something I ought to tell you.”
Nathaniel straightened slightly. “Go on.”
“My aunt and uncle extended an invitation some days ago, and I had intended to decline.”
His brows lifted. “You had intended?”
“I wrote a refusal, but I delayed sending it.” She winced slightly. “I was hoping to keep them in a state of suspense.”
Nathaniel pressed his lips to hide the smile that tugged at his lips at her admission. “Has something changed?” he asked.
Emilia’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “I am no longer certain I have the courage to send it.”
She looked down at her hands as she wrung her fingers together. “We encountered my aunt this morning, and she pressed me for an answer. If we do not attend, it may be viewed as a deliberate slight.”
“Would it not be?”
Her head snapped up at his question, but she did not answer. Nathaniel did not know much about Emilia’s relationship with the couple who raised her, but he knew enough to gather that she cared more for their feelings than they did for hers.
“Do you wish to go?” Nathaniel asked.
“No.”
“Then it is settled.” Nathaniel stood and made his way around the desk to stand in front of his wife. “If you do not wish to decline them, I will. You need not concern yourself with how it will be received.”
“My uncle may not take it well.”
“I would be disappointed if he did,” Nathaniel replied, leaning against the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest. “Then I would feel obliged to pretend civility towards a man I have no inclination to like.”
“Charlotte said this is how you would respond,” Emilia said, her expression brightening slightly.
“If they continue to put pressure on you, I will do a great deal more,” he said, the words slipping out before he could think better of them.
Nathaniel had always felt a certain level of protection over his family, his sisters in particular. But nothing had prepared him for the lengths he would go for the woman standing in front of him now.
Nathaniel took a steadying breath, “You do not owe them anything, Emilia.”
“They are my family,” she said quietly.
“You are my wife.” Nathaniel pushed off his desk, taking a step closer. “You are the Duchess of Kenswick.”
He closed the space that separated them in a few strides. He moved slowly so as not to startle her. “You need never yield to anyone again.”
Emilia’s eyes shimmered brightly with unshed tears, but she smiled softly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Nathaniel nodded as though it were nothing, but his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.
“I will handle the refusal if you would like me to,” he said. “You need not give it another thought, my dear.”
Emilia nodded, her wide gaze completely fixed on him, until she slowly turned and walked towards the door.
The room felt empty the moment she was gone. Nathaniel remained where he stood, his thoughts no longer capable of returning to the work he had been buried in before she had entered.
It did not trouble him that there was still so much he did not know of Emilia—though, perhaps, it ought.
For now, it was enough to know that her uncle had once held more power over her than mere guardianship—and he would never be permitted to do so again.
To ensure that, Nathaniel intended to understand precisely the sort of man he was dealing with.
He returned to his desk, drawing out a sheet of stationery. The invitation could wait. The most pressing matter on Nathaniel’s mind was gathering all the information he could about Lord Moorfield.