Chapter Fifteen
The past few days had passed by in agonizing quiet, ever since Charlotte had departed for her sister’s estate in Hertfordshire.
She had handled leaving London surprisingly well.
The fact that she had gone so willingly seemed to concern Nathaniel more than if he would have been required to drag her to the carriage while in a fit of hysterics.
During her week out and about the town with Charlotte, Emilia had come to realize the girl’s flair for the dramatic seemed to increase only when her brother was in the room.
Whether it was her way of pulling his attention away from his never-ending responsibilities, or she just enjoyed the challenge of attempting to fluster him, Emilia was unsure.
But the Charlotte she had become acquainted with was sweet, thoughtful, charming, and irresistible to love. Emilia missed her dearly.
When Charlotte first left, Emilia had cautiously let herself hope that the quiet of the house would allow for the tentative friendship between her and Nathaniel to grow. Instead, she found herself feeling even more distant from him.
For someone who appeared so simple and direct, he was a very complicated man. In the weeks they had been married, Emilia had come to notice the lines that pulled at the corner of his eyes, and the twitch of his mouth that revealed he was more amused by life than he let on.
Nathaniel had perfected the art of polite detachment, yet there were so many times she could not help but feel as though he were the warmest and kindest man she had ever met—though maybe that was simply a testament to all the other men in her life—for in the days since Charlotte had been gone, he had barely said a word to her.
She had never regarded him as the chatty sort, but the comfortable ease that had started to form between them in the days prior had simply disappeared. Though he still made a point to join her every evening for dinner, he sat mostly in silence.
Except for this moment.
Emilia stole a glance at her husband seated beside her—laughing. Lord and Lady Blackburn sat across the dining table from them, their smiles just as wide.
From the moment the couple had stepped through the front door of Kenswick House, Nathaniel had visibly relaxed. His laugh came easier, and Emilia was certain the muscles in his face would be aching by the end of the night due to how much he had been smiling.
She had never seen him smile before—not a real, true smile. She had observed the practiced one he offered her every so often, and though it was lovely and seemingly genuine, the one he wore now was infused with magic.
There was a brightness in his eyes and lightness to his demeanor that untethered something within Emilia’s own heart, sending her chest and stomach into an uncontrollable flutter.
No matter how hard she tried to focus on the physical environment around her, willing her heartbeat to slow, she could not rein it in.
But for the first time, something about the feelings coursing through her now, though beyond her control, did not make her feel like she was spiraling into the unknown.
But rather, somehow, they were what was keeping her grounded and present in this moment.
“Do you have any family nearby, Your Grace?” Lord Blackburn’s voice floated across the table, and Emilia looked up with a start when she realized that he was watching her expectantly. She was still not used to being addressed by her new title, and she had barely heard the question he had asked.
Nathaniel shifted beside her uncomfortably, and she looked up to find the easy humor he had been wearing all evening had been replaced by the challenging glare he was currently leveling at his guest.
Lord Blackburn cleared his throat, but his smile never faltered, “I am aware that you were under the care of Lord Moorfield, of course. I was just curious as to your relation.”
Lady Blackburn threw her husband a curious look, and Emilia could still feel the heat coming from her own husband’s gaze.
“Lord Moorfield is my uncle.” Emilia smiled sweetly, her best attempt to diffuse whatever uncomfortable situation was beginning to arise. “And I would much prefer it if you called me Emilia.”
She could sense Nathaniel tense from his place beside her, and she was suddenly worried she had spoken out of turn.
Her mind drifted back to their kitchen conversation just a few days prior. She had been telling the truth when she said that hearing her name brought up feelings of unease, but the more time she spent in this house and with her new family, she was finding those feelings were becoming less and less.
But regardless of how uncomfortable she may have felt at being addressed so familiarly, it was nothing compared to feeling like a complete imposter each time she was addressed as Your Grace.
“Then you must call me Oliver,” Lord Blackburn sat back in his chair, utterly unfazed by the daggers that were still being thrown his way. “I had no idea that you were the earl’s niece. He only ever referred to you as his ward. I apologize if I caused any offense.”
“None at all. That is not surprising,” Emilia replied with a polite laugh. “My mother was his sister, and he did not much like my father.”
It was a severe under exaggeration, but her family tree was not a topic that Emilia typically enjoyed discussing. “Aside from the need to legitimize me and my title, my uncle typically avoided discussions regarding my parentage.”
Oliver hummed in agreement. “And do you have any siblings?”
It was now Emilia’s turn to tense. Nathaniel must have been as aware of her as she was of him, for the moment her posture shifted, she felt his eyes on her.
Her throat tightened, and she clenched her hands into a tight fist, her nails digging into her palm. The sting was just enough to keep her breathing steady, but light enough that the indentations would fade before anyone would notice them.
All eyes were on her as she swallowed, willing her voice to stay steady and bright.
“No, I do not.” She shook her head slightly, forcing a smile as she reached for her wine.
It was not a complete lie, at least not one that they would be able to prove. As far as the whole of London was concerned, Emilia Talbot was the sole surviving child of her parents. She had never once considered telling anyone anything different. So why did the lie feel so much heavier this time?
“How are you enjoying life at Kenswick House?” Lady Blackburn smiled at Emilia, clearly attempting to change the topic of conversation. Oliver’s cat-like grin still stretched across his face as his gaze flickered between Emilia and a very perturbed Nathaniel.
“It has been lovely,” Emilia breathed a sigh of relief as she spoke honestly.
Grace smiled, “And you have been comfortable here? I can not imagine how daunting it all must have been, given the circumstances.”
“I have been quite comfortable.” Emilia felt Nathaniel’s posture soften. “Nathaniel and Charlotte have been nothing but kind and accommodating. I feel we are doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances.”
“And you have not been bored?” Oliver asked, earning him a half-hidden jab to the ribs from his wife. “I just mean, for a young lady like yourself, having been confined to your home must have been stifling.”
“I managed quite well, actually,” Emilia replied.
She could not shake the feeling that he was searching for something in her answers.
She was not sure what exactly, but she also could not blame him.
She too would have questions for the person to whom a dear friend had suddenly found themself married to after a series of very unusual and less than perfect circumstances—if she had any friends, that is.
Nathaniel had remained quiet since the line of questioning began, and the least Emilia could do was provide satisfactory answers.
“I generally prefer to be at home, but regardless, Charlotte proved to be a source of ample entertainment.”
Oliver laughed, and Emilia felt the tension in the room lift. “I am sure she was,” he said. “I am quite surprised she did not scare you off.”
“Oh no, I absolutely adore Charlotte,” Emilia said earnestly. She felt Nathaniel’s attention turn to her once more.
Oliver’s eyebrows rose in surprise. His eyes started to sparkle, and his smile deepened at whatever he was observing from his side of the table.
“She is a bit of a free spirit, to be sure, but I am used to navigating such with my cousin,” Emilia continued.
“Though I find Charlotte charming, for her theatrics come from a zeal for life and not a disregard for everyone around her. She has a warm and tender heart that could be easily missed if you focus only on how she presents herself.”
The entire table fell silent, and Emilia tensed at the familiar feeling that she once again had said more than was necessary or desired.
She slowly turned to Nathaniel. The softness she found in his gaze caused the flutters in her stomach to intensify.
“That is a very astute observation, Emilia,” Oliver grinned.
“Though I must say, not very surprising considering the man who raised her.” He nodded towards Nathaniel.
“The Duke of Kenswick is a mystery if there ever was one. Many men, and women, have tried and failed to uncover the secrets hidden in those murky, and dangerous depths.”
Nathaniel turned his attention back to Oliver. “That is enough,” he muttered, all the softness gone from his eyes.
“As you wish, Nat.”
Emilia was quite certain she heard Nathaniel growl, but she could not be sure over Oliver’s laughter.
“What did you call him?” She asked.
“Nothing,” Nathaniel responded, but Oliver brushed him off.
“It is just a name I bestowed upon him when we were children. Always buzzing around me he was, like one of those pesky little bugs that persist near your ear.”
“Why do I have a feeling it was the other way around?” Grace interjected.
“Because it was,” Nathaniel murmured.
“Perhaps,” Oliver shrugged. “But his name is Nathaniel, so it worked naturally.”