Page 38 of To Have & To Hold

“It seems to me the only thing being tortured is your poor handkerchief.” Nathaniel nodded at the mangled fabric inside of Charlotte’s embroidery hoop. “I had not realized needlework could be such a perilous undertaking.”

Charlotte let her arm fall away, sending her brother a daring glare. “It is going to be a pillow.”

“It is going to be in tatters if you do not take more care,” Nathaniel turned his attention back to his book. Emilia shook her head with a chuckle.

“Perhaps I would not be reduced to such exertions if I had other pursuits to occupy my energy,” Charlotte said.

Those who feared the Duke of Kenswick did so for good reason. Emilia had seen firsthand how quickly his gaze turned to ice when he had silenced her uncle. And yet, as hard as he tried, his youngest sister refused to be intimidated.

Charlotte turned to Emilia. “Are you not terribly bored, Emilia?” Her voice pleaded as she offered a secret wink. “Does it not feel as though my brother has made a prisoner of you rather than a wife? Not even permitting you the liberty of leaving the house.” She gave a small, delicate tsk.

Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed on his sister, but then his gaze flickered uneasily towards Emilia. “Do you feel imprisoned, my dear?”

Emilia’s face flamed when he addressed her. He had not used the endearment since that morning in the kitchen, and she had nearly forgotten they had agreed to it. She could feel Charlotte’s wide eyes fixed on her, and Emilia could hardly hear her own thoughts over the wild beating of her heart.

If asked under any other circumstances, she would not have used the wordimprisoned, but if she were honest, she did feel abit useless. She knew that there were responsibilities she would be expected to take on as duchess, but as of yet, she had no clue what they were.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Whitcombe, had assured her that everything was under control. Nathaniel had not wished to burden Emilia with the responsibilities in London, rather allowing her the time to adjust to her new life before needing to step into her role as duchess when they returned to Rosemore Hall.

She had not received a single caller since the wedding, and at Nathaniel’s request that she and Charlotte stay out of society’s eye, they had not even ventured outside of Kenswick House.

She was afraid that Nathaniel truly had come to regret his decision to marry her. Perhaps her uncle was right in saying there was something in her too weak to carry the weight of any true responsibility, and that was something that Nathaniel now saw in her.

Nathaniel was still watching her with quiet anticipation, expecting an answer.

“Perhaps a little,” Emilia said.

Charlotte laughed, and Nathaniel’s face fell just a bit.

“Truly?”

“I think imprisoned is too strong a word,” Emilia quickly corrected. “But I do wonder if we are perhaps being overly cautious.”

Her uncle would have scolded her for speaking against his decisions, but Nathaniel simply sat in silence as he pondered her words. It was not that she truly had any desire to socialize, but poor Charlotte did, and Emilia felt guilty for being the reason her debut season had been derailed.

“The longer we hide,” Emilia continued, “The more it may seem as though we have something to hide.”

Nathaniel watched her silently, and Emilia held her breath, afraid she had pushed too far.

He closed his book and rose from his chair. “Charlotte, could you give us a moment alone, please?”

Charlotte dramatically rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged on her lips as she turned to leave the room. “It must be nice to be married,” she chuckled over her shoulder, shutting the door behind her.

Emilia’s heart stuck in her throat, and she slowed her breathing so the air could still flow around it. Nathaniel was facing the fire, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. The longer he remained silent, the louder her heart beat. She had not anticipated him getting angry, but then again, she supposed she did not truly know him.

“Are you unhappy?” His words were whispered so softly into the fire that Emilia barely heard them.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked.

Nathaniel turned towards her, but his eyes were not full of anger. Emilia stood and took a step towards him, her breathcatching when she recognized the flickers of fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“Are you unhappy?” He asked again. “Do you feel as though I have entrapped you?” He did not meet her eyes, but instead slowly reached for her hand.

Emilia dared not move as he gently brushed his fingers over hers. The warmth of his skin against hers trailed up her arm and sent a chill through her entire body.

“No,” she shook her head and took a deep, steadying breath before she spoke again. “I am perfectly content. I am sorry I implied otherwise.”

“Do not be sorry,” his gaze snapped up to hers. “If that is how you feel, I want to know.”