Chapter Eighteen #2
She smiled as her thumb traced absentmindedly along the corners of the cover.
“Some of my happiest memories are sitting in the dark beside the fire, book in hand, pretending I was as brave and courageous as the heroines I was reading about. Even now, when I cannot sleep, I find myself curled up on the floor with the stories that kept me company for all those years.”
Emilia laughed softly, “I can see how ridiculous it must appear now that I am afforded two perfectly comfortable chairs and more lamps than I know what to do with.”
Nathaniel sat in silence, attempting to reconcile what she had said with what he saw sitting before him.
She spoke as though courage and bravery were qualities she was required to borrow from those around her, even from the ink and paper she held in her hands, rather than something she possessed on her own.
Yet she was, without question, more compelling than any heroine in any novel he could ever recall.
“I do not think you are ridiculous,” Nathaniel said softly. “From what I have observed, you possess far more strength than most people in my acquaintance, and you carry it with far more grace.”
Emilia did not speak, but he could see the doubt that filled her eyes.
His heart pounded in his chest as he continued. “You care more about others than you do your own well-being. The affection that you have poured out on Charlotte, the consideration you have for everyone around you, the way you defended me…“ Nathaniel swallowed around the lump forming in his throat.
“From what I can gather, those are not qualities given by the people who raised you, but ones you have cultivated within your own heart,” he said. “If nothing else, you must at least acknowledge that proves the strength of your character.”
Emilia shook her head. “That does not make me fit to be a duchess,” she said sharply, each word coming out strained.
Nathaniel’s heart squeezed at the admission of what her true fears were.
“My uncle was right,” she whispered. “I was not raised for this, not like you were.”
She started to stand, but Nathaniel caught her hand in his, pulling her back beside him. She refused to look him in the eye, but he could see them gleaming with the tears she refused to let fall.
“Do you not know how I gained my title?” Guilt gnawed at him as he realized how little of himself he had shared with his wife.
Emilia shook her head, “I know you were young.”
“I was twelve,” Nathaniel said with a sigh. “And I was the son of an untitled naval officer.”
Emilia’s eyes shot up to meet his. “What?” Her voice rose in confusion.
A faint smile touched Nathaniel’s lips. “My father was the second son of a penniless baron. We rarely had enough money for anything beyond necessities.”
Nathaniel took a deep breath, leaning his back against the leg of the chair that sat behind him.
“The late Duke of Kenswick was a distant relation—an uncle of some sort—I never met him. He and his three sons were killed during a storm while traveling home from London. Their carriage left the road and plunged down a rocky hillside. There were no other male heirs in his direct line, so the title should have passed to my father, except he had passed a few weeks prior.”
Nathaniel braced himself against the wave of emotion that still came every time he spoke about his father. “I had been fifth in line for a title I did not even know I could inherit,” he continued. “The legitimacy of the succession was contested repeatedly.”
“Your title was contested?” Emilia finally spoke.
Nathaniel nodded, “I was young, uneducated, and completely unprepared for such a responsibility. No one believed that a child should inherit one of the largest and most influential seats in the country.”
Emilia shook her head slowly, and Nathaniel saw his words begin to sink in. “How did you manage it all?” She asked.
“I did not,” he laughed. “The late duke’s solicitor managed the estate, and I was sent to Eton.
When I finished my education, I devoted all of my time to learning everything I could about politics, the history and influence of the Kenswick seat, my tenants, and their farms. I knew I had done nothing to earn my position, but I was determined to become a man worthy of it. ”
Emilia looked down at the book in her lap, but Nathaniel gently reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, lifting her eyes back up to his. “If you wish others to believe you are capable, Emilia, you must first believe it of yourself.”
A stray tear slid down Emilia’s cheek. “I fear that is a belief I do not yet possess.”
Nathaniel blinked away the tears from his own eyes. If he could allow her just a glimpse of herself through his eyes, she would never question her worth again.
“My dear, the only thing you are lacking is the ability to see yourself the way I see you.” His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. “Had I searched the whole of England, I do not believe I would have found anyone more suited to being my duchess than you.”
Emilia stared at him in disbelief. Nathaniel fought against the desire to pull her into his arms and hold her there until every doubt she carried had been chased away. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to remain where he was.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Nathaniel quickly lowered his hand as Sophie entered the room. The maid settled the tea service on the table between the two chairs and turned towards her mistress with a smile.
“Can I get you anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you, Sophie,” Emilia shook her head slowly. “And there is no need for you to stay and serve the tea. Please get some sleep. The tray can be cleared in the morning.”
The maid smiled, “Yes, Your Grace.”
Even with tears still shimmering in her eyes, Emilia’s first concern was for someone else.
Nathaniel knew he was no longer exercising restraint for the sake of his own heart—it was now hopeless to pretend that Emilia did not possess it entirely. The only thing left for him to guard was her heart.
For until he was certain of her affections, he could not burden her with the strength of his own.