Page 80 of To Have & To Hold

Pride filled Emilia’s heart at his words, and she fought a smile. “I am,” she replied. “And if you defy me, I shall have you locked in the dungeon.”

Alexander laughed. “Does Rosemore Hall have a dungeon?”

Emilia shrugged, “We will build one.”

Emilia stepped back out into the hall, closing the door behind her, muffling the sound of Alexander’s laughter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emilia slowly pushed open the door to Nathaniel’s study. He hadn’t responded to her knock, but the light flickering from under the door gave her hope he was still inside.

The room was dark aside from the waning candle sitting on the edge of his desk. Once her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, they fell on the sleeping form hunched over the desk. Nathaniel’s head lay atop his arms, and his back rose and fell in a slow, peaceful rhythm. It was not yet ten o’clock, but the exhaustion of the evening must have overtaken him. Emilia was still uncertain if he ever slept, and it broke her heart to wake him.

She knelt beside his chair. Even sleeping, he possessed a certain strength that was etched into his very being—his broadshoulders that filled the chair even when hunched over, the solid curve of his back, and the forearms resting beneath his head.

There was something soft and vulnerable about him now. Without the weight of expectations and responsibility pressing down on him, the lines of his face softened, and he looked as peaceful as he was handsome. His lips parted slightly with each soft and steady breath. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and a lock of jet-black hair had fallen across his forehead.

This man was not the Duke of Kenswick.

This was Nathaniel.

For several moments, Emilia watched him as he slept. How many nights had he fallen asleep at this very desk while carrying the burdens of those he claimed responsibility for? How many nights did he lose sleep worrying about his tenants and his family? How much weariness was he hiding behind his perfectly maintained composure? And would he ever trust her enough again to share it with her?

Emilia’s chest tightened painfully. She slowly reached for him, her fingers brushing away the loose lock of hair that had fallen over his eye.

Nathaniel stirred, and a soft hum escaped his lips. He instinctively turned his head into the warmth of her hand. Fresh tears blurred Emilia’s vision. Her mind drifted back to the moment in the drawing room before everything had comecrashing down—the nearness of him, the way he looked at her as though she was as dear as the air he breathed.

She let her fingers drift gently into his hair, smoothing the dark strands back from his face. Nathaniel’s brow twitched, and slowly his eyes blinked open. The moment his crystal blue eyes saw her, they brightened, and a lazy, sleepy smile crossed his lips. As he continued to blink, the light in them dimmed and his smile slowly faded. He did not look away from her, but moisture began to gather at the corners of his eyes.

“Nathaniel…” Emilia said through the lump on her throat.

His jaw tightened as he pushed himself upright. He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could brush away the sleep and weariness that looked like it ran bone deep.

“I know you are angry with me,” Emilia began. She had planned out what she was going to say on her walk to his study, but the moment she saw his face soften, she had forgotten every word.

“I am not angry, Emilia.” The gentleness of his voice nearly undid her. “I am hurt.” Nathaniel’s voice was thick with emotion. His eyes brimmed with tears, but he did not turn away from her in an attempt to hide them.

Nathaniel sat back in his chair as he reached down for her hand, pulling her from where she still knelt on the rug. He placed his hands gently on her arms, guiding her in front of him until she could rest against the surface of the desk.

“I understand why you did not tell me at first.” His voice was steady now, but his eyes relentlessly searched hers as he spoke. “If the navy were to discover that your brother had deserted his post….” his words trailed off.

“...but after all these months, do you still not trust me?” His voice was not raised, and somehow that hurt more than if he had shouted.

“I do,” Emilia answered sincerely. “Nathaniel, I do trust you.”

“Then why did you not tell me Alexander was alive after you discovered Mr. Fawley’s letter?” His brows furrowed. “I told you I would have done anything to bring him home to you, and I have the power and influence to do it if you would have told me the truth.”

“That is precisely why I did not tell you,” Emilia admitted quietly, noticing the confusion in Nathaniel’s eyes.

“You feel the need to carry everyone’s burdens upon your own shoulders. You cannot rest if you feel as though there is something you have left undone.”

“I am a duke, Emilia. I have responsibilities.”

“I was trying to protect you from taking on another one.” She took in a trembling breath. “You do not know what Alexander and I have hidden. I did not want to give you another burden to carry.

“You are not a burden, Emilia, you are my wife!” Frustration dripped from tone but his eyes remained soft. “I donot care for you because it is my duty! I care for you because I….” His words stopped short as he abruptly stood from his chair, shoving it against the shelves behind him.

He took a step away from her, rubbing both hands over his face again and again, as if he were fighting against whatever words were threatening to burst forth.