Margaret blinked.
“What?”
“You were asleep,” he said, as though the explanation were obvious. “I had no intention of disturbing you.”
The disappointment she had tried to bury shifted slightly, uncertain now. Nathaniel reached for her then. The movement was so natural it took her by surprise. His hand slid gently around her waist, drawing her closer until the space between them vanished entirely. Margaret barely had time to inhale before his other hand lifted lightly to her cheek.
“You assumed I had fled,” he murmured. “After such a lovely night, too.”
“I assumed you had reconsidered.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“I am capable of reconsidering many things.”
“And this?”
He answered by kissing her. It was nothing like the kiss the night before. That one had been urgent, reckless, driven by weeks of restraint finally breaking loose. This one was slow, careful. Nathaniel’s lips lingered against hers as though he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, he did not release her.
Instead he kissed her again, and again, each kiss softer than the last. Margaret found herself smiling despite the warmth rising to her cheeks.
“You seem certain now,” she said when he finally paused.
“I am certain of very few things,” Nathaniel replied.
“And yet?”
His thumb brushed lightly along the edge of her jaw.
“And yet,” he said quietly, “I find I prefer beginning my mornings this way.”
Margaret felt something in her chest ease in a way she had not realized she needed. The man standing before her now did not look like the distant Duke she had married only weeks ago. He looked like someone unguarded, someone who had finally allowed himself to step closer instead of retreating away.
And as Nathaniel drew her into another quiet kiss in the soft light of the breakfast room, Margaret allowed herself to believe something she had scarcely dared hope before. Everything had changed.
When they did pull apart, Margaret rested her hands lightly against his chest, studying his expression.
“You seem unusually agreeable today,” she said.
“I have been accused of worse things.”
“That is not a denial.”
“No.”
She smiled faintly. For a moment, the room returned to a comfortable stillness. Nathaniel’s gaze drifted briefly toward the window, as though he were organizing his thoughts.
“There is something we should discuss,” he said.
Margaret tilted her head slightly.
“That sounds ominous.”
Nathaniel hesitated only briefly.
“I intend to hold a ball.”
“Here?”
