Page 36 of To Have & To Hold

She dipped the bread into the bowl of cream, swirling it around as it soaked the liquid up.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows. “She showed you how to eat stale bread?”

Emilia laughed, and Nathaniel felt his heart nearly launch out of his chest.

“Yes, the bread is a little stale,” she said. “But when you soak it in the cream, it softens, and the texture is close to bread pudding.” She pulled the bread from the bowl.

“And this…” she drizzled a spoonful of honey over the top. “...is the best part.”

She held out her hand, and Nathniael eyed the sticky, soggy piece of bread. Her eyes were wide with expectation, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to deny her. He took the roll and bit into it, his eyes closing involuntarily, and a low, soft groan of satisfaction escaped his lips.

Emilia laughed again. “See,” she smiled, tearing off another piece. “I know it is silly, but something about it is comforting. I did not have many things that brought me comfort in my uncle’s home, so I suppose I am a bit reluctant to let this one go.”

Nathaniel wiped his hands on his trousers as he settled into the stool across from hers.

“I do not find it silly,” he said. “But may I ask, why were you not allowed dessert? Was it a punishment?”

He couldn’t imagine this sweet, considerate woman ever doing anything requiring reprimand, even as a child, but what other reason would her uncle have for depriving her of such a simple pleasure and dismissing the maid for providing it?

“No,” she shook her head. “Unless the punishment was for inconveniencing him by being orphaned.” Emilia clasped a hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry, I should not have said that.”

Nathaniel did not pry, but simply watched her, every word she had just shared turning around in his mind. The more he learned about this woman he had married and the house she had come from, the more puzzled he was.

Emilia shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she sat under his gaze. “Are you sure it is all right that I am eating these?” She asked, breaking the silence. “I do not wish to overstep my place.”

“Emilia,” he said softly—her shoulders raised again. “You are the mistress of this house, and a duchess. You may do whatever you like.”

“Oh,” she said softly, before a shy smile spread across her face. “Well, in that case…” She let her words trail off as she drizzled an extra spoonful of honey on the piece of bread in her hand and popped it in her mouth.

Nathaniel laughed again, but he couldn’t quite shake the heaviness that had settled into his chest. He had hoped he was only imagining it, or that as time passed, she would become more comfortable. But he had noted every time her shoulders tensed while they sat here in the kitchen.

“If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?” He said carefully, as though testing unknown waters before completely pushing off from the shore.

Emilia’s nose crinkled slightly. “I suppose it depends on the question.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Emilia’s eyes widened in shock. There was no going back now—Nathaniel was in deep, uncharted waters.

“No,” she said, uncertainly. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Nathaniel shook his head, but avoided answering the question out loud. It was not her that made him uncomfortable, in fact he found himself more and more relaxed in her presence. It was the feelings she elicited that had his insides churning like the restless tide—feelings he thought he had buried for good. Ones that lead to nothing but disappointment and heartbreak.

“Is there a reason you believe me to be uncomfortable?” Emilia’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Not unless I say your name,” he answered. “Every time I address you, your shoulders tense, and you pull away.”

Her eyes dropped to the floor again, and her posture softened. She didn’t seem uncomfortable now, but almost sorrowful.

“I am so sorry, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel swallowed the urge to correct her for apologizing again. “I know you were wary at first about addressing me by my given name, but you seem to use it so freely now. Is there a reason you would prefer I not call you by yours?”

“No!” She answered quickly. “It is not that, truly. I was not even aware I was responding in such a way. I am simply not used to hearing it.”

“You are not used to hearing your name?”

“I have never had any close friends, no one dear enough to address me with such informality. My parents died before I could remember them, so the only people who call me Emiliaare my aunt and uncle, and never with any sort of warmth or fondness. Every time I hear it spoken, I find myself bracing for what will come next.”