Page 73 of To Have & To Hold

Nathaniel looked away, clearing his throat. As different as he was here, in the comfortable familiarity of Rosemore, the Duke of Kenswick would still never allow his tears to fall publicly.

He leaned in close, placing his hand at the small of her back, his lips hovering just above her ear.

“Thank you, Emilia.” His voice was slightly broken, and the sound made Emilia’s breath catch. He pulled back, a bright smile on his lips.

In the brief moments that she stared into his eyes before his attention was stolen yet again, a feeling rose deep within her that she had feared she would never find again.

It felt like home.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nathaniel turned another page in the book balanced on his lap, though he had scarcely read a single word since he opened it. Across the sitting room, Charlotte and Emilia sat by the fire, discussing details for the fast approaching ball.

Rosemore’s spring festival had always concluded with a country dance held in the village assembly hall—until this year. Nathaniel was still uncertain as to precisely how he had allowed his youngest sister to convince him that a ball ought to be held at Rosemore Hall instead.

Her arguments had seemed valid at the time—the new duchess deserved to be celebrated. Nathaniel could not fathom that anyone would make the journey for a one evening affair,but as the acceptances started arriving, he realized how much he had underestimated people’s curiosity.

In two days, the ballroom that had sat empty for years would be filled beyond what any gathering in London could hope to attract. Neighboring families of high esteem, members of Society, and village families alike would all walk beneath the painted ceilings of Rosemore Hall as honored guests.

His gaze drifted towards Emilia. She had changed so much in the short time they had been at Rosemore. Her and Charlotte spent nearly every waking moment together, their laughter filling the halls of the house infusing life back into the walls.

His heart swelled with pride every time he thought of the way she conversed with the tenants. She remembered everyone’s name, and it was easy to see how quickly the village had fallen in love with their new duchess. It was as though she had always been a part of their lives, so much so that Nathaniel could scarcely remember what life had been like without her.

The distance she kept between them ever since her discovery of Fawley’s letter had not vanished completely, but he could not squash the hope that had been blooming ever since they stood in front of Mrs. Finch’s sweet shop.

Nathaniel’s heart still beat an irregular rhythm as he pictured her tear filled eyes as she told him that she saw him for who he truly was. He had spent years learning how to become the man everyone expected him to be, he had never daredhoped that if anyone looked past all of that, that would still find someone worth loving.

He would not allow himself to believe that Emilia loved him—not until he heard the words from her own lips—but the thought of it no longer seemed as impossible as it once did.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lowered his gaze back to his book. The words on the page were just as meaningless as before.

“I have a very important question before we finalize the flower selections,” Charlotte suddenly declared.

“The ball is in two days, Charlotte,” Emilia challenged. “I believe it is too late to change anything now.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, ignoring Emilia’s comment. “What is your favorite color?”

“My favorite color?” Emilia echoed.

“Yes,” Charlotte leaned forward in anticipation. “If you could only see one color for the remainder of your life, what would it be?”

Nathaniel heard a strangled laugh as Emilia attempted to match Charlotte's serious determination.

“Well,” she said thoughtfully. “I have always loved the color pink, though I do not believe it returns the sentiment.”

Charlotte sat back and scrunched her nose. “Well, that is an odd thing to say.”

“With my hair and complexion, it does not particularly suit me. So I gravitate toward darker colors—like emerald or burgundy…”

“But when we first met, you were wearing that lovely peach-colored gown,” Charlotte interrupted.

Emilia nodded. “Yes, and you likened me to a raspberry cream tart.”

Nathaniel bit his lip to contain his laughter. “Perhaps she was referring to your sweetness.” The words slipped out before he could consider the implications.

Both women turned toward him, their eyes equally wide with surprise. His sister regarded him with a sparkle of mischief in her smile. Nathaniel was more than accustomed to that particular expression, but its brightness at this particular moment was unsettling.

“And yours, dear brother?” she asked.