Page 55 of To Have & To Hold

Nathaniel released her hand, lightly gripping her chin to raise her face back to him. “My dear, why would I be ashamed of you?”

“Because I am an embarrassment!” Emilia cried.

“Emilia, the only thing I am embarrassed about is the fact that you were put in a position where you needed to defend your own honor alone. I never should have left your side.”

Emilia winced. He did not know that it was his honor she had been defending.

“I handled it,” she said, her arms crossing over her chest involuntarily, as though her body were trying to hold the truth back from him.

“You should not have had to.” Nathaniel’s voice was soft, but she could see the suspicion growing in his eyes. “Emilia, will you not tell me what they said?”

Emilia shook her head, no longer able to look at him squarely. She heard his resolved sigh before he dropped his hand from her face.

“The comments you overheard were not about you, were they?”

“No,” she admitted.

She expected him to demand to know their words or storm off in anger, but Nathaniel’s shoulders simply dropped in resignation. “I knew people would be careless with their words, but I hoped they would not be so cruel.”

He raked a hand through his hair, undoing its careful arrangement until dark waves fell across his brow. “This is why I wanted to wait for you to rejoin society.”

“You are not upset?” Emilia asked in surprise.

He gave her a soft smile. “I do not pay much attention to the things people say about me. I am quite used to their critical assessments.”

“Well, I am not!” Emilia nearly jumped at the sound of her own voice. She could not understand what it was that continued to take hold of her. Every emotion she had was knotted so tightly together she could barely distinguish one from the other. She had begun the evening properly perturbed at Nathaniel, but now she could hardly remember why.

He looked at her, his expression soft as his eyes brightened. “I am not ashamed of you, Emilia, and if you are agreeable, I would very much like to dance with you.”

Emilia could barely breathe around the lump forming in her throat. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to take his arm and allow him to lead her back into the ballroom with her headheld high, but the little pride she possessed had been too brutally wounded.

“I do not know if I can face them.”

He placed his hands on the back of her arms, squeezing them gently as though he could give her some of his strength.

“You will not face them alone, not ever again.”

“I am sorry, Nathaniel.” Emilia shook her head slowly. “I think I would like to go home.”

She watched his face, waiting for disappointment to show, but it never did. Instead, something surprisingly close to pride flickered in his weary eyes.

Nathaniel pulled her close to his chest once more and pressed his lips lightly against her hair.

“Then I shalltake you home.”

Chapter Eighteen

Nathaniel’s eyes stayed fixed on his feet. He had paced the length of the hallway so many times that he wanted to ensure the carpet was not becoming worn. He and Emilia had returned from the Langley Ball hours ago, and his wife had retired to her room immediately.

She had spoken a little in the carriage ride back to Grosvenor Square, but she had been thoroughly spent by the events of the evening. He knew he should allow her time to rest and recover, but he could not imagine going the entire night without knowing if she was truly alright, or if she was curled up in her bed crying alone as she was when he had found her in the hallway.

He had briefly considered returning to Langley House to find the three women in question—if they intended to challenge his character, they might at least have the courage to do so to his face, rather than taking advantage of his wife in his absence. But then he had thought of Emilia being alone, and if she were to emerge from her room needing him, he wanted to be near—right outside her door, to be in fact.

He had considered simply staying in his room, but he was worried she was not yet comfortable enough to use the adjoining door that connected his chambers to hers. So he had been pacing the hall aimlessly, watching the firelight flicker from under her door, wondering if he should knock or simply let her be.

He hoped that she would come to him if she needed a steadying hand, but he knew that was most likely not true. He had kept her at a distance for weeks—always polite and kind, but never enough to invite her to seek him out for comfort.

His eyes closed as he thought of how closely he had held her that night—her body trembling as he steadied her against him, her breath quickening despite his efforts to soothe her with the gentle brush of his hand along her back, and the broken look in her eyes before she had asked him to take her home.