Some brigands do not wield swords. Some come armed only with their lips,Nathaniel thought. He cleared his throat and his mind.
“There is much we do not know about them. I simply wish to know them personally before I allow our families to be joined together. You can’t blame me, especially with Edmund’s rakish reputation.”
“People exaggerate all the time. And I am not marrying Edmund.”
“In a way, you are marrying them all. They will reflect upon our family.”
“Then you are fortunate that they are not the ones judging you, as I’m sure you would not enjoy it.”
“I am beyond reproach and have nothing to hide.” Nathaniel held his head high and looked down his nose at Alfred. The lie was bitter as he swallowed it.
Charlotte might have been the one who kissed him, but he had still been involved. He shuddered at the thought of anyone seeing him caught in that compromising position.
Charlotte was bold and unpredictable, two qualities he found entirely unsettling, along with the fact that he didn’t seem to be able to push her away from his mind, no matter how much he tried.
“Neither does Mary nor any of her family. I’m sure we would have heard about it by now. Secrets are hard to come by in the ton. You’re just being obstinate for no reason. Is this a matter of pride, brother? Are you wounded because I am getting married before you?” Alfred snarled.
“Of course not.” Nathaniel shook his head as he laughed the notion away.
Beatrice intervened at this point, standing between her two sons. She reached out with both arms and turned her head as she spoke, shifting her gaze between them.
“I don’t like to see the two of you fighting like this, especially on what should be a happy occasion. Marriage should bring joy, and yet I cannot help but worry. Your father would have loved to be here to see you married, but he, too, would have urged caution. Nathaniel, your time will come soon enough. It won’t be long before the Lady Honoria Everstone arrives, and then everything shall fall into place.”
“Yes, brother, and I hope that you do not have anyone trying to interfere with your happiness,” Alfred interjected.
“Nobody is interfering with anything. Soon enough, you will both have brides, families, and children if we are so blessed,” Beatrice said.
“There has been no engagement yet, Mother,” Nathaniel observed in a quiet voice.
Beatrice lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “While I admire your devotion to rules, my son, sometimes it is acceptable to celebrate the inevitable. I know that when you meet Lady Honoria, you will waste no time in making the engagement official. She is everything you could want in a wife.”
Nathaniel nodded, hoping that thoughts of the future would help to dispel the tension of the past. Honoria did seem like a perfect match. According to his mother, she possessed all the qualities a duchess should have, and there was not a willful bone in her body.
She was proper in every way, completely unlike Charlotte, and that could be nothing but a good thing.
Chapter Seven
Everyone gathered in the dining hall for dinner. A long table stretched across the room, which was illuminated by lanterns, for outside, the sun was fading. More light was offered by two candelabras positioned symmetrically on the table. The high-backed chairs were comfortable, and the air was alive with fragrant aromas, which served to whet everyone’s appetites.
Charlotte was sitting between Clara and Lydia. The presence of a child was unusual at the main table, but this was an exception, as the family wanted to present everyone together. Beatrice had opened her mouth when Agatha took a seat, but she did not end up saying anything. She seemed put out by the fact that she was forced to sit beside the elder woman. Charlotte watched them closely, now seeing the tension that Mary had mentioned.
Edmund was opposite her, flanked by Alfred and Nathaniel.
A shudder passed through her, as though thinking his name was like the tolling of a bell. The servants brought out food, and the conversation was lively.
“Tomorrow you should go for a ride, Lady Lydia. You can have your pick of the horses, aside from Bastion, of course. Nobody rides him other than my brother,” Alfred said.
“Is that the black steed we saw when we arrived?” Edmund asked.
“Yes, there’s only one Bastion, and when you see him, you can’t miss him,” Alfred replied.
“A fine creature, well-bred, I’m sure. But I’d wager my sister could outpace him in a race. She’ll take your swiftest horse. Are you a betting man, Winthrop?” Edmund turned to Nathaniel, who had so far remained mercifully quiet.
“No,” Nathaniel replied.
“No?” Edmund asked incredulously. “Not even a flutter now and then? It adds to the spirit of competition.”
“The spirit of competition is the challenge of wits, of intellect and skill opposing each other. There is a purity about it that is sullied when money becomes involved.”
