Page 33 of To Have & To Hold

“Why would she not?” Oliver pressed.

“Why would she?” Nathaniel’s frustration began to rise.

“Because you are kind, loyal to a fault, and incredibly dashing.” Oliver’s tone was light, but his eyes narrowed slightly, and Nathaniel worried that he could see into his very soul.

He crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to shove down the emotions that were threatening to rise. If he could not feel them, perhaps Oliver wouldn’t sense them.

“She did not choose me, Oliver,” Nathaniel’s voice raised slightly. “She did not wish to marry me.”

Oliver nodded, but the look in his eye was not convinced. “This would not have anything to do with Sarah, would it?”

Oliver’s tone softened to something far too close to pity. Nathaniel closed his eyes tightly, but did not reply. As much as he wished to say he was completely unaffected by his broken engagement, it would be a lie.

The only reason he had been present in society the year he had met Sarah Weston was to find his sister Adeline a match. He was unsure what had possessed him to dance with the young woman, or appear unannounced in her parents’ sitting room the next morning to declare his intentions of courtship. Sarah had somehow drawn from him a vulnerability he had never permitted himself to show to anyone else—save for Oliver on rare occasions.

His deepest wound did not come from losing her, nor even the breaking of his heart, but the knowledge that she was able to affect him so profoundly while feeling nothing for him in return. He had weakened himself and offered his heart to a woman who had not even wanted it. Nathaniel was quite certain he would not survive if it were to happen again.

He let out a low breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything he had never spoken out loud. Oliver stood, making his way to where Nathaniel sat, leaning a shoulder against the warm hearth.

“I believe you are confusing being loved with being chosen, Nathaniel.” His voice was quiet, but the words brushed against the bruise on Nathaniel’s heart.

“You are right in assuming that love is a choice, but it is not a one-time affair. Grace and I are wildly in love, but only because we wake up every morning and choose to love one another—and believe me, it is no easy task.”

“Perhaps for Grace,” Nathaniel muttered.

Oliver grinned, but continued. “Your marriage may not have begun on the most promising note, but that does not mean it is beyond hope. If you resist the urge to fight against every good thing that comes into your life, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised.”

A lump formed in Nathaniel’s throat. He had married Emilia under the assumption they would be friends, not that they would fall in love. It was not that he did not wish for love; he had once believed he would only marry for that very reason—but the thought of loving her and having their lives intertwined in every way, yet never possessing her heart in return, was a kind of torture he was unsure he could endure.

Nathaniel’s thoughts died on his tongue at the sound of a soft knock on the door. It slowly creaked open, and Emilia’s soft smile appeared.

“I do not mean to intrude,” she whispered, a light blush staining her cheeks. She entered the room, revealing a small tray piled high with food balanced in her hands.

“I know you said you were not hungry,” she stammered. “But the servants were beginning to clear away breakfast, and Idid not want you to have to wait until afternoon tea for something to eat.”

Nathaniel could feel Oliver’s bright grin burning into the side of his face, but he could not take his eyes off his wife. He stood from his seat, crossing the room to take the tray from her.

“One of the maids could have brought this,” he said, and her smile dimmed just a bit.

“But it was a nice thought,” he added quickly, desperate for the light to return to her eyes. “Thank you, Emilia.”

She tensed slightly, and Nathaniel’s heart dropped.

“What do you have planned for your first full day as duchess, Your Grace?” Oliver asked from his place in the corner. Emilia immediately relaxed, and Nathaniel had never been so grateful for his friend’s interruption.

“Charlotte is taking me on a tour of the house,” she smiled, but Nathaniel felt a twinge of guilt. He should have offered that very thing the day before, instead of hiding in his study.

“That sounds like a very entertaining day,” Oliver said, clapping a hand onto Nathaniels’ shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of our noble duke, here,” he continued.

Emilia’s blush deepened. All of them knew that the staff of Kenswick House would not let their duke go hungry, and Emilia’s gesture held more weight than simply meat and breakfast pastries.

She gave a quick curtsy, her red curls bouncing against their pins.

Even after she had turned and left the room, Nathaniel’s attention remained fixed on the space she had just occupied. Oliver laughed as he swiped a piece of cold ham from the tray that was still in Nathaniel’s hands.

“Be careful, Your Grace,” he crooned. “Your gaze is most certainly lingering.”

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