Page 16 of To Have & To Hold

A small fire burned in the hearth of an empty library, and he drew the young woman to the chair nearest it before releasing her hand and making his way back to close the door.

“You are the Duke of Kenswick,” she whispered. It sounded as though she was talking more to herself than to him, but the fact that she was speaking normally was a good sign. If Nathaniel could keep her talking, perhaps it would keep her from slipping back into whatever state of panic had overtaken her outside.

“I am.” He lowered himself into the chair across from hers. “It seems you now have me at a disadvantage, for I still do not know your name. Miss…”

“Talbot,” she answered quickly. “LadyEmilia Talbot.”

He didn’t recognize her name, which wasn’t unusual as he socialized as little as possible when in London. It was obvious she had not known who he was until Huxley had addressedhim, but the fact that she had accentuated her own title made him smile. Obtaining a special license to wed a titled Lady would be much easier.

He was to marry this woman.His stomach twisted at the thought, though it wasn’t as unpleasant a feeling as he would have expected.

“It is a pleasure to formally meet you, Emilia,” Nathaniel said once he found his voice again. “May I call you Emilia? I feel as though we have already moved past the need for formalities.”

Her eyes closed briefly and she shook her head. “Why would you say that?”

“After what transpired at the river, and now the garden…”

“No,” she interrupted. “Why did you tell them you were going to marry me?”

Nathaniel took a breath, finally allowing the full weight of what had transpired in the garden to settle. He still did not know why he had said it. The words had tumbled out before he had the presence of mind to stop them, but the moment they escaped, he couldn’t take them back—and the moment he had seen her fall to the ground in panic, he hadn’t wanted to.

He stared at her now, and though she had stopped shaking, he could see that her nerves were teetering dangerously on the edge. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the arms of the chair, her fingers peeking out from under the sleeves of hisjacket.

Her eyes were red from crying and the stinging wind they had endured outside. A few stray tears still clung to her lashes, her bottom lip trembled, and he could see her nibbling on the inside of her cheek as she waited for his answer. Her shoulders were rigid, and her jaw held high as she kept her eyes locked firmly on his.

She had cracked in front of him once, but he wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking she would allow herself to do it again. Something inside him almost wished she would—not because he wanted to see her cry, but because he had an overwhelming desire to be the one who held her when she did.

He still hadn’t answered her question, and her brows raised expectantly, but he only had one explanation to offer…

“Because I amgoing to marry you.”

Chapter Six

Emila’s choice not to eat from the refreshment table was proving wise. It was unfortunate enough that her borrowed dress and flushed complexion had her resembling half of the dessert spread; if she had chosen to partake of any of it, she had no doubt that at this very moment she would have been wearing it, along with the duke’s jacket that was still draped over her shoulders.

The duke.

A fresh wave of nausea hit and Emilia squeezed her eyes shut. If she kept them closed long enough, maybe he would be gone when she opened them again.

She could hear the steady sound of his breathing as he leaned forward in his chair, no doubt watching her with hiscalm, unwavering expression. While Emilia’s insides churned like a tempest at sea, neither his eyes nor his voice gave any indication of uncertainty. Not even as he had spoken the words that were still ringing in her ears.

I am going to marry you.

“Why?” She asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to steady it. The duke leaned back in his chair, making him seem even more relaxed.

“Well,” his mouth crooked into a small grin. “I seem to have made a habit out of rescuing you from unfortunate situations. I feel it would be easier to continue to do so if we lived under the same roof.”

Emilia felt her mouth drop open as she stared at him in disbelief. “Are you making a joke?”

His posture shifted slightly, the first sign that he may not be entirely as at ease as he appeared.

“I am trying to,” he admitted. “My sister tells me that I would benefit from an improved sense of humor.”

Emilia dropped her head into her hands, murmuring under her breath. “This can not be happening.”

“I do believe, whenever someone is rescued from either embarrassment, social ruin, or a watery grave, the proper response isthank you.”

Emilia’s head snapped up. “Are you still joking?”