Chapter Twenty-One
Emilia could not stop smiling. She pressed a cool hand to her cheek as she walked down the hall, though it did little to settle the warmth that settled there.
Memories from the early morning continued to flood her mind, long after the sun had risen to burn away the misty air.
Even after Emilia had climbed back under the covers of her bed, her dreams replayed every moment again and again.
No one had ever looked at her the way Nathaniel had in those moments—as though it was the last time he would ever look at her and he was trying to commit every detail to memory.
Her fingers drifted over her lips. She could still feel the lingering warmth of Nathaniel’s kiss. The way his arms had pulled her close, and the buzzing against her skin with each sweet sentiment whispered in her ear.
He hadn’t made any declarations. Emilia herself could not even identify what she felt—but she could not imagine that love could be any stronger than the ache threatening to break free from her chest at the very thought of him.
Every person Emilia ever dared to trust had left her feeling just a little smaller and slightly worn.
She had been quite certain that falling in love would be the quickest way to ensure heartbreak—yet the thought of giving her heart to Nathaniel seemed no more dangerous than placing her hand in his as they walked along the Thames.
“Good Afternoon, Your Grace.” Briggs appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Emilia looked up with a start, realizing she was simply standing in the middle of the hall.
“Good Afternoon, Briggs,” she replied with a smile.
“Are you feeling better, Your Grace?”
“Feeling better?” Emilia asked with a frown. The events of that morning had her head feeling a little dizzy, but she was fairly certain she had not forgotten being ill.
“His Grace said you were recovering from a headache this morning,” the butler offered. “A breakfast tray was sent to your room.”
“Oh, of course!” Emilia exclaimed. She simply had assumed that Sophie brought the tray when she found her still sleeping that morning, but of course Nathaniel would have ensured that she was taken care of.
“My apologies, Briggs, I seem to be a little preoccupied.”
“It is no worry, Your Grace,” the older man smiled. “If I may say, you are looking much refreshed.”
The flush in Emilia’s face deepened. “Thank you, Briggs. Is the duke in his study?” She tried to force a carefree lightness into her tone, but rather it came out in a sound suspiciously close to a squeaking mouse.
“He is,” Briggs’ smile widened. “I am on my way to deliver this note that just arrived for him.”
“I will take it,” Emilia said far too quickly.
Briggs' looked at her in surprise. “You needn’t worry yourself, Your Grace.”
Emilia straightened her shoulders, summoning the air of what she hoped was a capable duchess. “I can handle carrying a piece of paper, Briggs.”
The butler relented, handing her the missive with a sigh. Emilia thanked him before continuing on down the corridor, still unable to suppress her smile. The thought of seeing Nathaniel sent another flutter through her chest.
The house buzzed around her. Footmen carried trunks towards the entrance hall, while maids scurried from room to room polishing furniture before draping it in white linen to protect it from the dust that would settle during their absence.
They would be leaving London in the morning, stopping in Hertfordshire to collect Charlotte and dine with Adeline and her husband before continuing on to Rosemore Hall. It would be a two-day journey once they left Lord Rutledge‘s estate.
Emilia had tried countless times to picture what her new home would look like. Nathaniel and Charlotte both spoke so fondly of the Peaks with its rolling hills, hidden streams, towering oaks and the sparkling lake that served as the jewel of their little village of Rosemore.
She wondered if it truly was as beautiful as they described, if the gardens would be in full bloom with roses when the arrived, and if Nathaniel would take her rowing again…her face heated at the thought.
Emilia turned the corner too quickly, knocking her hand against a small table, nearly toppling over a vase of silk roses.
The letter Briggs had entrusted her with fluttered slowly to the ground.
The wax seal had been broken, and as it struck the polished floor, the folded sheet inside slid free revealing the first few lines of hastily written script.
…additional information regarding Lieutenant Alexander Talbot….
Emilia’s heart stopped. She knew she shouldn’t read it, but unfortunately by the time her mind had come to that conclusion, her eyes had already begun scanning the page.
…no formal record of death could be obtained…
…insufficient evidence to support any formal accusation of desertion…
Emilia’s hands trembled.
Nathaniel knew about Alexander. He had known long enough to have requested additional information regarding his disappearance, and for his solicitor to have obtained records and statements from his commanding officers.
Her mind replayed every conversation they had over the past few weeks—every opportunity he could have questioned her, and every opportunity where she could have told the truth—but neither of them had said a word.
He had allowed her to sit in false comfort that her most guarded secret was safe and buried.
How long had he been waiting for her to tell him?
And what other secrets had he uncovered?
Her fingers quickly folded the letter and placed it back inside of its envelope. She wiped away the tears filling her eyes, but not before one escaped, falling on top of the broken wax seal. Her footsteps echoed down the now empty hall as she approached Nathaniel’s study.
The door stood open and she could see him leaning against his desk sorting ledgers into neat piles for the journey north. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows behind him, catching in his dark hair.
He must have heard her heart pounding, for the moment she graced the doorway he looked up at her and smiled. Emilia wished she could smile back, but the lightness she had felt all morning vanished.
“There you are,” he said, abandoning his work as he crossed the room. “Sophie said she left a breakfast tray in your room, but I was hoping you might join me for afternoon tea.”
The way he looked at her made her nearly lose her train of thought. He had always had a dizzying effect on her, but now that she knew what if felt like to be held in his arms, and to have his lips on hers, it was hard to think of anything else.
She closed her eyes. If she could not see his sparkling eyes and lazy smile, perhaps they would have no effect on her.
“This just arrived for you.” She held out the letter. The brush of his fingers against hers as he took it sent a chill up her arm.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “If delivering my correspondence becomes one of your regular duties, I believe I shall begin looking forward to the post.”
Before she could answer, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek. Emilia’s breath caught.
“I suspect this is one in particular you have been waiting for,” she said quietly. “The seal was broken and the letter slipped out. I confess I read some of it.”
Emilia watched his reaction closely, but could not detect any anger or frustration. Nathaniel turned the envelope over in his hand, removing the paper inside. Emilia stayed silent. She saw his shoulders tense and the color slowly drain from his face as his eyes scanned the page.
“Emilia, I can explain…”
“How long have you known?” She interrupted him. She had no right to be angry, the secret he kept was no worse than the lies she had been telling.
“A few weeks,” he admitted.
Emilia nodded slowly, unable to determine what she felt. Embarrassment? Fear?
“I suppose you have been wondering why I lied to Oliver.”
Nathaniel laid the letter on the desk, folding his arms across his chest with a shrug. “I understand why you did.”
Emilia felt a surge of protectiveness for her brother coarse through her. “It is not true!” She nearly jumped at the accusing tone of her own voice.
“Which is not true?” Nathaniel asked. “That he died in Spain, or that he deserted?” There was no frustration or accusation in his tone. It was a simple question—if only Emilia could give him a simple answer.
“My brother is not a deserter,” Emilia snapped. “I lost him during the war.”
Over the past year the rumors surrounding Alexander had intensified. In the midst of the war, no one had bothered to officially declare her missing brother dead, but now that the war had ended, people began to ask questions that only a few people seemed to have answers to.
There was not enough evidence to prove what had happened to him, or survivors from his ship to build a case against him, but the whispers alone were enough to taint his memory and her family’s reputation.
Nathaniel stared at her for a long moment, his eyes finally softening as he took a step towards her.
“Alright.” He nodded, reaching out for her hands.
Emilia allowed him to thread his fingers through hers, her heart skipping a beat.
“You believe me?” She asked.
Nathaniel arched a brow. “Is there a reason I should not?”
Emilia shook her head. The tightening knot of guilt in her stomach was nauseating. “Did you know about my previous engagement as well?”
Nathaniel pulled back as if she had attempted to strike him, but he did not let her go.
“No,” he whispered. “I swear to you Emilia. I knew nothing of your engagement.” His hold on her hands tightened. “I meant what I said about wanting to earn your trust. I am sorry if this has in any way jeopardized that.”
Emilia’s throat tightened at the memory of his words. He had laid his heart bare on the banks of the Thames that morning, and there was still so much more of her heart she kept hidden from him—but they were not all her secrets to share.
“I asked my solicitor to investigate Lord Moorfield,” Nathaniel confessed. “I never intended to invade your privacy. I had decided to leave the matter of your brother alone, but then I thought if there was any possibility he was alive and I could bring him home to you, I wanted to try.”
Emilia closed her eyes again, unable to look at the sincerity reflected in her husband's gaze. How could she allow herself to receive his unwavering devotion when he did not know the truth of who she really was.
Every kindness he offered only sharpened the painful edge of the secret she kept buried. For weeks she feared that telling Nathaniel the truth would make it impossible for him to love her, but now she realized he would never turn his back to her.
The only question that remained was whether or not she deserved to be loved by him at all.