Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Euphemia? Are you listening?”
The sharp sting on her thumb caught her completely off guard.
Euphemia gasped, dropping the silver sewing needle she had been holding.
She had only meant to repair a loose bit of lace on Cordelia’s doll, but a sudden lapse in concentration had sent the tip biting deep into her skin.
A tiny, bright bead of blood welled up instantly on her thumb.
“You really must stop finding ways to injure yourself, Euphemia.”
She spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Nathaniel was standing right there in her chamber doorway, leaning slightly against the frame with his arms crossed.
Euphemia stared at him, momentarily shocked by his presence in her private rooms. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked, hastily pressing her handkerchief against the small cut.
“Long enough to watch you completely lose yourself in thought,” Nathaniel replied, stepping into the room.
His gaze dropped to her hand, a flicker of familiar frustration crossing his features.
“And long enough to call your name twice. When you didn’t answer, I decided to see what was holding you captive. ”
“Oh. I am sorry,” Euphemia murmured, looking down at the stained linen in her hand. “I only came up to grab my sewing kit, but I... I suppose I got a bit carried away.”
Nathaniel closed the distance between them, his eyes studying her face intensely. “What could possibly have taken your mind so thoroughly that you became entirely deaf to the world?”
Euphemia offered a weak, dismissive smile, but inside, a knot of frustration tightened.
She had promised herself in the carriage the day before that she wouldn’t let the whispers bother her.
She had vowed to push the dread aside, to leave the rumors for the night of the Pembourne ball, and to dwell only on happy thoughts.
Yet, every moment she was left alone in the quiet of her room, her mind had betrayed her completely. No matter how hard she tried to lock the anxiety away, she couldn’t let it go. The fear kept clawing its way back to the surface, replaying her sisters’ warnings in a relentless loop.
People were still talking about her.
Nathaniel stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the floor.
Without a word, he reached down, took her by the wrist, and gently guided her across the room to sit on the edge of the mattress.
Euphemia watched him walk over to the washstand, straight to the spot where he had found the small apothecary tin the other night when he had first attended to her wound.
He retrieved the tin, returned to her side, and sat down on the bed beside her.
As he began rummaging through the contents to find a clean cloth and a soothing salve, a small, involuntary giggle escaped Euphemia’s lips.
Nathaniel paused, looking up at her with a puzzled look on his face. “May I ask what you find so amusing?”
“It is just very familiar, Your Grace,” she said, nodding toward his hands. “This is already the second time you have had to tend to my wounds, when you are quite obviously not in the position to be doing such menial tasks.”
A faint, wry smile touched his lips. “Well, you seem to have a recurring habit of getting hurt. I am beginning to think you are a little clumsy.”
“I am not clumsy!” Euphemia protested with furrowed eyebrows. “The two times I have been injured were entirely not my fault.”
“Is that so?” Nathaniel lifted her thumb, gently pressing a damp cloth against the bead of blood. “Perhaps I can concede that the first incident was not your fault. That was Georgianna’s doing. But this time? You were alone in a quiet room.”
“This time was your fault,” she countered immediately, narrowing her eyes at him. “You startled me with that booming voice of yours while I was standing alone, perfectly content in my own thoughts.”
Nathaniel scoffed softly, applying a small dab of salve to the cut. “That is hardly my fault. Normal people respond when their name is called. They do not jump and stab themselves with sewing needles.”
“Normal people do not sneak up on a lady in her own chambers,” she shot back.
“Fine,” Nathaniel said, holding up his hand.
“It is entirely my fault. I accept full responsibility this time.” He smoothed a small piece of linen over her thumb to bind it.
“Now, to the reason I came looking for you in the first place. Cordelia has been rummaging through the entire estate, searching for you. She even braved my study to ask if I had seen you, which made me wonder where exactly you were hiding from my daughter.”
Euphemia gasped softly, her eyes widening in realization.
“Oh, no. I was supposed to meet Cordelia in the gardens! We were coming up with a grand plan on how to get Georgianna down there to play with us so she wouldn’t feel left out.
I completely lost track of time because I came up here to fix Cordelia’s doll. ”
Nathaniel paused, staring at her in sheer bewilderment. “You do not need to fix Cordelia’s doll, Euphemia. She has an entire staff of maids for that.”
Euphemia let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming. “Cordelia wanted me to fix her doll’s dress. I had mended one of Georgianna’s porcelain dolls... the one that broke that night, and Cordelia felt it was terribly unfair. She insisted her doll needed my attention, too.”
A warm smile broke across Nathaniel’s usually stern face. “She asked you to fix her doll because you... fixed Georgianna’s doll and not hers?”
“Yes.” Euphemia nodded.
“It is rather funny to think about,” he murmured. “A little girl becoming so entirely jealous because someone fixed her sister’s doll and not hers.”
Euphemia smiled back, but as she did, her focus shifted to the sensation of his fingers still cradling her hand.
His touch was very warm, firm, and surprisingly gentle.
She liked the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers.
It wasn’t a feeling she wasn’t familiar with, and it traveled all the way down to the pit of her stomach.
Realizing where her thoughts were drifting, she quickly forced herself to look away, determined not to dwell on it. She absolutely did not want her cheeks to turn bright red again, lest he notice her blushing just like he had the other night.
Nathaniel gave the linen binding on her thumb one final, gentle pat before releasing her hand. He closed the apothecary tin with a soft click and stood up. “All done,” he said.
“Thank you,” Euphemia replied, softly tracing the edge of the linen cloth with her other hand, missing the warmth of his touch the moment it was gone.
Nathaniel didn’t immediately move away. He looked down at her, his expression turning solemn. “Would it be overstepping if I asked what is truly causing you to drift off in the middle of the day like this?”
Euphemia let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly.
She knew she couldn’t keep hiding it, not when it was written so plainly across her face.
“I heard from my sisters today. When we met at the modiste, they informed me that the rumors regarding me have not completely died down yet. It has just been worrying me terribly. We have the Pembourne ball in only three days, and I cannot stop wondering how bad the gossip still is, or why people refuse to stop talking about me.” She looked up at him, her chest tightening.
“It feels as though society is just waiting for me to fail.”
Nathaniel shook his head slightly, trying to soothe her. “You should not worry so much about it, Euphemia. I have matters well under control. They will whisper, but they will not dare cross us openly.”
“I am not doubting that you have done your best,” she countered quickly, as her voice rose anxiously.
“But I cannot help but think... what if you’re right?
What happens if this scandal were to affect Cordelia or Georgianna in the long run?
I am not sure I could handle that. It wouldn’t be fair to them.
They will go out into the world, and people will point at them and say they have a stepmother who did this, or a stepmother who did that.
I am terrified that my presence is going to ruin their futures, and I simply do not know how to deal with that.
My sisters too. It could ruin their chances.
There’s nothing I can do. That bothers me. ”
Nathaniel watched her closely, his brow furrowing. “There is absolutely nothing to worry about. I secured this marriage precisely to protect all of us. Why must you overthink these things to such an extreme?”
Euphemia let out a humorless, breathless laugh and looked away. “Because I have always overthought everything, Your Grace. You do not know a lot about my childhood. It was... it was rather dark, hidden away from the world. I grew up almost always worried. That has just been how I am.”
She looked up at him, her hands gesturing in the air as the words began to spill out of her in a restless torrent.
“Sometimes I think I have things under control, but all of this is still so completely new to me. Growing up, I was always the one who carried the burden of worry. My sister Seraphina lives entirely in a bubble. She is someone who is paranoid most of the time, constantly looking for the negative, stressing over what terrible thing might happen next. Leonora, on the other hand, is completely carefree. She detests worrying, so she simply refuses to do it at all.”