Chapter Twenty-Two
Nathaniel leaned his head against the back of the carriage, his eyes gently landing on the woman across from him instead of the familiar countryside rolling by the window.
They were nearly home.
They had stayed with Adeline a day longer than expected, and though he enjoyed the time spent with his sister, he was more than eager to return home.
Now, after two days of traveling, they were only moments away from getting a glimpse of Rosemore Hall. Nathaniel was certain the peaks of the roof could already be seen over the crest of the rolling hills, but he could not tear his eyes from his wife long enough to notice.
Emilia and Charlotte laughed and conversed easily, as they had the entire journey.
They hadn’t spoken much since he received Fawley’s letter; he had also instructed the man to cease his investigations.
He still had so many questions burning on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask them for fear that pulling on the threads he uncovered might cause Emilia to unravel completely.
He also had not kissed her since that morning on the Thames, though not from a lack of wanting to.
Every moment he resisted the urge to pull her into his arms he found himself depending on a strength he was unaware he possessed.
Even now, his fingers ached to reach across the carriage and tuck a loose curl behind her ear.
Love and trust could not be coaxed into existence by persistent questioning or lavish affections. If Emilia was to love him—if that extraordinary possibility was ever to be—it must be because she chose to, not because he pressured her.
For her, he would wait as long as necessary.
Outside the window, the hills began to melt away and the familiar stone walls rose from beyond the treeline. Charlotte bounced in her seat, pressing both palms against the window.
“Oh, we’re nearly there!”
Emilia’s face lit up as she leaned forward, trying to see over Charlotte’s bobbing black curls. As the carriage rounded one final bend, the honey-colored stone of Rosemore Hall emerged between the newly budding branches of the surrounding forest.
Charlotte clapped her hands, pressing her face even closer to the glass. Emilia sat back in her seat, a soft smile on her lips as she glanced across the carriage at Nathaniel.
“We are home?” She asked softly.
“Yes, my dear,” Nathaniel replied. His gaze lingered on her for just a heartbeat before lifting to glance out the window.
“We are home.”
∞∞∞
Emilia’s eyes widened as she turned another corner, every inch of her new home was even more impressive than the last. White marble floors sparkled in the pale afternoon light, while rich wood paneling, and deep jewel toned draperies lent an inviting warmth Emilia had not expected from an estate so imposing and grand—Rosemore Hall was as beautiful of a contradiction as its master.
Beyond the walls, the estate stretched farther than Emilia could see. Orchards, forests and farmlands dotted the horizon, broken up only by the rolling hills and winding streams and rivers sparkling in the distance.
Rosemore Hall’s gardens were just beginning to spring to life after the long winter, but it was easy to imagine the breathtaking splendor they would soon become.
“It will look entirely different in another month or so.” Nathaniel’s low and steady voice came from behind her. “By May, the roses along the south terrace will have climbed nearly to the second story.”
Emilia spun to face him. “Truly?” She asked, her voice filled with anticipation. “I have always dreamed of reading on a sunny terrace surrounded by roses.”
Nathaniel’s smile was brighter and warmer than the sun streaming through the windows.
“I know that must seem like a very foolish dream,” Emilia laughed nervously.
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. “I do not think it is foolish.”
Emilia observed him intently, unable to shake the feeling that there was something he was withholding. His entire body seemed to be held in place by some unseen force, his hands twitched as though they wanted to reach out for hers but were unable to cross the space between them.
“I wish to know every one of your dreams, Emilia,” he whispered.
Emilia swallowed the lump in her throat. Her guilt wrapped itself tightly around her chest, squeezing until she could barely breathe. Nathaniel opened his mouth to respond, but Emilia interjected before he could speak.
“I would like to see the library, if it is not too much trouble.”
Nathaniel immediately relaxed, offering her his arm before leading her down the hall. “Your wish is my command.”
When Nathaniel pushed open the engraved doors to the library, Emilia’s heart nearly stopped at the magnificent sight.
The towering bookcases climbed two stories toward a vaulted ceiling painted with the image of a soft blue summer sky and wispy pink clouds. A wrought-iron gallery circled the upper level, reached by a sweeping staircase that curved along the far wall.
Every shelf was crowded with countless leather-bound volumes, and the afternoon sunlight poured through enormous arched windows setting the entire room alight.
Beside one window sat a polished writing desk, neatly arranged with ink and parchment.
Plush armchairs surrounded the fire burning in the intricately carved marble fireplace.
Emilia wandered slowly between the shelves, her fingertips grazing the worn spines. Books on every subject spanned the shelves—more than she could ever hope to read.
“Have you read all of these?” she breathed.
Nathaniel chuckled softly. “Not quite.”
Emilia wandered further into the room until she reached the great windows overlooking the gardens below.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered.
Nathaniel came to stand beside her. “This is my favorite room, and I must confess I was secretly hoping it would become yours as well.”
Emilia smiled at him, “I believe it might be.”
The silence settled comfortably between them, but Emilia could feel Nathaniel’s frame standing rigid beside her.
“Are you happy?” Nathaniel’s voice echoed through the quiet room. The question caught Emilia completely by surprise.
“I am,” she replied, attempting her most convincing smile.
Nathaniel’s eyes remained fixed on hers. “I do not mean are you happy at Rosemore.” His voice grew hesitant. “Are you happy with me?”
His words stole the breath from her lungs. Emilia searched his face but could find none of the sure confidence he usually carried. Instead, all she could see in the depths of eyes were hope and fear—as though her answer mattered more than anything else in the world.
“Oh, Nathaniel…”
Emilia crossed the small distance between them and slipped her hand into his.
His fingers closed around hers at once, as though they had been longing to do so for far too long.
The tension left his shoulders immediately, and it made her heart ache.
Since their conversation surrounding Alexander she had been so consumed by the turmoil in her own heart that she had not even noticed the worry that had been plaguing him.
“I am happy,” she said softly, afraid her voice would break. “I am happier than I ever imagined I could be.”
His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles. “I am relieved to hear that. For I find that I have become rather invested in your happiness.” He gave a small, self-conscious smile. His free hand lifted to gently cup her cheek.
“I meant what I said in the hall,” he murmured. “I wish to know every one of your dreams, Emilia.”
He hesitated for a moment, tracing lightly along her cheekbone.
“I wish to know everything that you hold in your heart—every fear so that I may help soothe it, and every dream so that I may spend the rest of my life making them come true—because I am beginning to believe that is precisely what you have done for me.”
Emotion surged through Emilia so fiercely she could barely stand. Oh, how she loved him.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and confess everything, declaring that she loved him with every shattered piece of her heart.
But the truth stood between them like an uncrossable chasm.
If he knew the truth of what she was hiding he would take every one of her shadows upon himself, and she could not bear to watch that wonderful light in his eyes disappear forever.
“Nathaniel…” she whispered.
A knock sounded at the open door. “Your Grace?”
Emilia took a step back and looked up to find Briggs standing in the doorway.
“Dinner is served.”
“Thank You, Briggs.” Nathaniel closed his eyes and exhaled a quiet laugh. “Impeccable timing, as always.”
The older gentleman inclined his head with a slight hint of amusement.
Nathaniel looked back at Emilia, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose the library, and the rest of our conversation, will still be here after dinner.”
Emilia nodded in silent agreement—the conversation would be there after dinner, but she was quite certain that her courage would not be.