Page 58 of To Have & To Hold

Emilia shook her head, “I know you were young.”

“I was twelve,” Nathaniel said with a sigh. “And I was the son of an untitled naval officer.”

Emilia’s eyes shot up to meet his. “What?” Her voice rose in confusion.

A faint smile touched Nathaniel’s lips. “My father was the second son of a penniless baron. We rarely had enough money for anything beyond necessities.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, leaning his back against the leg of the chair that sat behind him. “The late Duke of Kenswick was a distant relation—an uncle of some sort—Inever met him. He and his three sons were killed during a storm while traveling home from London. Their carriage left the road and plunged down a rocky hillside. There were no other male heirs in his direct line, so the title should have passed to my father, except he had passed a few weeks prior.”

Nathaniel braced himself against the wave of emotion that still came every time he spoke about his father. “I had been fifth in line for a title I did not even know I could inherit,” he continued. “The legitimacy of the succession was contested repeatedly.”

“Your title was contested?” Emilia finally spoke.

Nathaniel nodded, “I was young, uneducated, and completely unprepared for such a responsibility. No one believed that a child should inherit one of the largest and most influential seats in the country.”

Emilia shook her head slowly, and Nathaniel saw his words begin to sink in. “How did you manage it all?” She asked.

“I did not,” he laughed. “The late duke’s solicitor managed the estate, and I was sent to Eton. When I finished my education, I devoted all of my time to learning everything I could about politics, the history and influence of the Kenswick seat, my tenants, and their farms. I knew I had done nothing to earn my position, but I was determined to become a man worthy of it.”

Emilia looked down at the book in her lap, but Nathaniel gently reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, liftingher eyes back up to his. “If you wish others to believe you are capable, Emilia, you must first believe it of yourself.”

A stray tear slid down Emilia’s cheek. “I fear that is a belief I do not yet possess.”

Nathaniel blinked away the tears from his own eyes. If he could allow her just a glimpse of herself through his eyes, she would never question her worth again.

“My dear, the only thing you are lacking is the ability to see yourself the way I see you.” His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. “Had I searched the whole of England, I do not believe I would have found anyone more suited to being my duchess than you.”

Emilia stared at him in disbelief. Nathaniel fought against the desire to pull her into his arms and hold her there until every doubt she carried had been chased away. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed to remain where he was.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Nathaniel quickly lowered his hand as Sophie entered the room. The maid settled the tea service on the table between the two chairs and turned towards her mistress with a smile.

“Can I get you anything else, Your Grace?”

“No, thank you, Sophie,” Emilia shook her head slowly. “And there is no need for you to stay and serve the tea. Please get some sleep. The tray can be cleared in the morning.”

The maid smiled, “Yes, Your Grace.”

Even with tears still shimmering in her eyes, Emilia’s first concern was for someone else.

Nathaniel knew he was no longer exercising restraint for the sake of his own heart—it was now hopeless to pretend that Emilia did not possess it entirely. The only thing left for him to guard was her heart.

For until he was certain of her affections, he could not burden her with thestrength of his own.

Chapter Nineteen

Emilia buried her head deeper into the pillows to hide her eyes from the light streaming through her windows. She pulled the blankets closer, hoping sleep would over take her again, when she suddenly woke with a start.

She did not remember going to bed.

Emilia sat up, and her eyes darted around the empty room. The fire had long gone cold and the tea tray was still sitting by hearth. Sophie must have not yet come to attend to her, but the blankets her and the duke had been sitting on were piled neatly at the foot of her bed. The book she had been reading was lying on the table beside her.

Emilia pressed a hand to her sleep heavy head, trying to remember how the evening had ended. Memories of the warmtea, and Nathaniel’s calming voice flooded her mind. How was it possible she had tidied up and climbed into her bed, and drawn the bed hangings yet have no recollection of it.

Unless….

No. Sophie must have returned while Emilia was sleeping and simply forgot the tray. There could be no other explanation—especially if the only alternative was that the Duke of Kenswick had tucked her into bed like a sleeping child before tidying her chambers and quietly slipping out the door.

Emilia slowly pulled herself out from under the blankets, wincing as her feet hit the cold floor. If her maid had returned, she surely would have fed the fire.