Page 51 of To Have & To Hold

He pretended he hadn’t noticed her, allowing a moment to compose himself. But by the time she had reached him, he still hadn’t regained control of his thoughts—or his tongue. He was known as a man of few words, but that was the first time he could recall being rendered entirely speechless.

He had been trying to downplay the attraction he felt for her since the moment they had met, but there was no denying it completely. Nathaniel was a disciplined man, but even he had his limits. The moment he saw her that evening, he knew without a shadow of doubt that he had married the mostenchanting woman alive—and he was set on course for disaster.

His willpower wavered, and he let his gaze fall to her for a moment. Her hair fell in perfect ringlets, shaping her face. The golden ribbons woven through the strands soaked up every drop of candlelight from the chandeliers, giving her the illusion of a golden halo atop her fiery curls.

Her cheeks were flushed as her eyes scanned the room. Her neck and jaw clenched, and Nathaniel noticed the quick rise and fall of her chest, though her expression remained perfectly at ease.

She gave a poised smile to everyone who glanced their way, and Nathaniel’s heart squeezed with pride at the way her chin was held high. To every curious eye, she was the picture-perfect duchess, but Nathaniel could feel the rapid beating of her pulse where her wrist rested against his arm.

He lifted the hand hanging at his side to place it atop her small, dainty one, giving it a squeeze. She turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise. He had meant it as a comfort, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. He was usually able to calm her nerves easily, but there was something different tonight.

She hadn’t said a word on the drive—something he hadn’t even been fully aware of until they had joined the line of carriages circling the drive outside of Langley House. Thethoughts racing through his own mind had been so loud he couldn’t hear the silence.

He had been replaying the moment in the foyer over and over in his mind, recounting everything he should have said while he stood there in stunned silence.

“You look beautiful, Emilia.”

“Your gown is lovely, Emilia.”

“If I had known this was the future that awaited me, I would have made you my duchess the moment I pulled you from the Thames.”

His cheeks flushed at the last unexpected thought, so close to an admission he wasn’t ready to make—not even to himself.

“I see Lord and Lady Blackburn,” Emilia’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Should we go say hello?”

“You can if you wish,” Nathaniel replied, his voice tight. “I see someone on the other side of the room that I must speak with.”

He tried to hide the tension from his voice, but judging by the curious look in her eye, he was failing. He wasn’t ready to face Oliver just yet, but admitting so would be a weakness. Nathaniel felt a twinge of guilt at the lie as she released his arm and walked away without a word.

He was not angry at Oliver; he was ashamed. He also was not ready to admit that Oliver had been right—he was not alone because people did not need him, he was alone because he was afraid of needing them.

Now Nathaniel feared he was in danger of falling in love with his wife; he was already perilously close to being infatuated with her—or perhaps he already was. Whatever it was that plagued his heart was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

When he had been with Sarah, his emotions had clouded his judgment and discernment. He made himself vulnerable in a way he had vowed never to be again, but even that was a fraction of what he was feeling now.

Nathaniel stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching as his wife made her way to the refreshment table, Grace now at her side. He was supposed to claim her for the first set of the evening, once the dancing began, but he needed a moment of distance to clear his head before being so near to her again. The guilt began to rise in his chest as he watched her eyes scan the room aimlessly. She looked as untethered as he felt.

A few people approached the women, and Emilia smiled brightly, dipping into a perfect curtsy. She laughed softly and nodded as she listened to every word that was spoken to her. She was a picture of poise and grace, but had a genuineness to her that softened the polished manners held by most in high society.

“When you said you were keeping your distance, I did not realize you were speaking so literally.” Oliver appeared at the duke’s side out of nowhere; Nathaniel had not even seen him cross the room.

“I do not think it is possible for you to get any further away from your wife.” Oliver nursed a half-empty glass of lemonade, his tone as cool as the drink in his hand.

Nathaniel sighed inwardly. “It was not Emilia I was attempting to avoid,” he said with a sideways glance.

Oliver chuckled, but it was void of his usual humor. “I assumed as much when she came to greet us, and you were nowhere to be found.”

Nathaniel shook his head. He should have realized Oliver would not let him sulk for long. He took a deep breath.

“I am sorry, Oliver.”

Oliver’s eyes stayed focused on their wives conversing across the room, but Nathaniel could feel his grin widening.

They stood in silence for a moment before Oliver turned to clap a hand to Nathaniel’s shoulder. He knew the full weight of what Nathaniel’s words had meant, even if he had not spoken everything out loud.

“I will not make you say anymore,” Oliver finally said. “But when are you going to apologize to Emilia?”

“Apologize for what?”