Page 52 of To Have & To Hold

Oliver laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “She truly does have you completely befuddled. I have never seen you so clueless.”

Nathaniel glanced back to where Emilia had been standing just a moment ago, but he could only see Grace. His eyes scanned the room, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Did Emilia tell you what is bothering her this evening?” He asked, turning back to a very amused Oliver.

“Not with so many words.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Spit it out, or I will rescind my apology."

“Grace complimented her on her dress, and I made a casual comment on how pleased you must have been—and she said you hadn’t really seemed to notice.”

Nathaniel’s heart plummeted to the floor. That was the reason she was so quiet in the carriage, and why she had seemed so dejected when he had released her arm.

She had looked at him differently when she had descended the stairs, almost expectantly. Her eyes were pleading for something she was too afraid to ask for—his approval. After all the years of raising Adeline and Charlotte, how had he not come to this conclusion himself?

“I have been struggling to notice anything else since the moment I saw her this evening,” he spoke the words quietly to himself, but Oliver heard them.

“Perhaps you should tell her that,” he whispered, pointing a finger towards the ballroom doors. Nathaniel looked up just in time to see Emilia slipping out into the hall.

Without another word to Oliver, he crossed the room in quick strides, heading towards the open door where Emilia had disappeared.

Everything in him urged caution, reminding him to guard his heart. He was now quite certain that she was keeping secrets, and he was not yet prepared to face what they might be.

Yet, as he rounded the corner, his eyes fell on a sobbing Emilia, and Nathaniel found himself uncertain which would be more painful—having his heart broken once again, or enduring the constant, persistent ache of holding her at a distance.

∞∞∞

Nathaniel had barely even looked at her all evening—not beyond the moment when he watched her walk down the stairs. He had been dreadfully silent in the carriage, and when they entered the room, he had tensed—the reality of being seen with her on his arm too uncomfortable to bear.

Emilia hadn’t expected him to sweep her into his arms and whisk her around the room, whispering sweet words into her ear, but she also hadn’t expected him to be so eager to rid himself of her company.

Grace had seen right through her feigned confidence the moment Emilia had approached them. The darling woman led her to the refreshment table and pressed a glass of lemonade into her trembling hands, hoping the cool sweetness would calm her nerves and settle the flush in her face.

It had worked for a moment, until Emilia saw Nathaniel and Oliver watching them from across the room. She had been struggling to breathe through all the attention, but knowing that she was secretly a disappointment to her husband was an agonizing weight on her chest.

When Grace’s attention was stolen, Emilia took the opportunity to slip into a shadowed corner, allowing herself a moment to regain her composure. Nathaniel was supposed to come and find her for the first set of the evening, but she was unsure how she meant to endure it.

The thought of Nathaniel’s hand on hers, the movements of the dance bringing them close, and his eyes locked on hers had made her heart flutter with foolish anticipation only a few hours ago—now it seemed torturous. For it only made Emilia realize how much closer she wished him to hold her, and how he seemed to not want her close at all.

“I wonder whether she knows what sort of husband she has secured.” A muffled voice drifted from behind the ivy-covered pillar that served as Emilia’s hiding place.

Emilia froze, and her heart rate increased. There was no doubt in her mind as to whom they were referring. Everything in her told her to flee before she heard too much, but she stayed firmly planted.

“I would think she has done quite well for herself,” a younger, sweeter voice responded. “His Grace is verymuch admired.”

“From a distance,” the gravely voice replied. “One can not exactly describe him as cold, but there has always been something foreboding about him. One never feels entirely at ease in his company.”

Emilia waited for the other unknown lady to come to Nathaniel’s defense again, but she did not.

“I confess, I have often thought him rather pompous.”

“He inherited far too young. A position of such consequence bestowed before one’s character is fully formed is apt to produce arrogance.”

“A gentleman so perfectly composed is generally concealing something.”

Emilia set her glass on a nearby table with a thud. It was becoming something of a habit now, her feet leading her to places her mind had not yet decided were a wise place to go—but there was no hiding once she stepped into the light.

“I suppose it is far easier to judge a gentleman’s character from a distance,” she said coolly.