“Whatever you wish, Your Grace,” she replied, looking a little sheepish. She returned to her timid, deferential nature again. Across the hall, he heard Charlotte’s laugh drifting toward him. She had risen from the table and was dancing with Clara. Nathaniel’s gaze lingered on Charlotte for a moment longer than he deemed appropriate.
He was dancing with a woman who was, by all accounts, perfect for him. She possessed every quality he desired. Why were thoughts of another woman even entering his mind?
He excused himself from dancing. Alfred introduced himself to Honoria and occupied her time while Beatrice rushed up to Nathaniel, gripping his arm tightly.
“Isn’t she perfect?” she asked, the words rushing out in an excited breath.
“She is everything I asked for,” he replied, which wasn’t exactly answering the question.
“I know. I must admit your demands were challenging, but in Honoria, I have found the perfect match. She is obedient, beautiful, talented, thoughtful, and the perfect representative for our family. She will stand beside you, and everyone will bask in your glory. They will all say that there has never been a more perfect match, and as for children, I’m sure you’ll agree that she will make a fine mother.”
“Indeed,” he replied curtly.
Beatrice continued to exalt all of Honoria’s fine qualities, but while she spoke, Nathaniel was still thinking of Charlotte. That woman was the opposite of everything he should want in a partner. She contradicted all his ideas of order and structure. She didn’t even want to get married.
She was argumentative. Willful. Too clever for her own good.
But she was spirited too. She challenged him. She stoked a fire in the air and made it feel as though he was walking through aninferno. It was exhilarating when so much of his life felt rote. And then there was the affinity she shared with Clara, Hector, and Brutus.
But she didn’t care about the things that held importance for him. He needed to shut these feelings down before it was too late.
He turned to Beatrice.
“I am indebted to you for choosing such an apt partner. I look forward to acquainting myself further with Lady Honoria, and when the appropriate amount of time has lapsed, a proposal shall be forthcoming,” he said, as though uttering these words aloud would force him into a particular course of action.
But it wasn’t Honoria he looked at. It wasn’t Honoria he wondered about. It wasn’t Honoria he had kissed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte arrived at the stables, finding that everyone else was already present. They were dressed in riding gear. Honoria’s hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her clothes were utterly pristine. Charlotte looked down at her weathered boots. It was no wonder Nathaniel wanted someone like Honoria.
She was perfect in looks, in mannerisms, in etiquette, in everything. After watching her closely the previous evening, Charlotte came to the conclusion that Honoria was the personification of propriety, and that made her an ideal match for the Iron Duke.
“She seems like a bore to me,” Edmund offered candidly, having had a few too many glasses of champagne. There was nothing to base this on other than their brief observations, but if she didn’t catch Edmund’s attention, then it showed she was even more suitable for Nathaniel.
Charlotte hoped that a ride in the forest would prove refreshing in more ways than one.
“Can I ride with you?” Clara asked, staring up at Honoria.
“May I ride with you?” Honoria corrected her, although Clara didn’t quite understand this.
“Yes, you may,” she grinned. Honoria blanched, and Mary stepped in.
“Perhaps it’s best if you ride with me, dear. Lady Honoria isn’t accustomed to the way you wriggle.”
“A lady doesn’t wriggle,” Clara said in a haughty tone, which sounded quite like Beatrice to Charlotte’s ear. Clara flicked her hair away and then stood beside the horse, waiting to be lifted onto it. They all climbed onto stools, and the stable hands helped them mount their horses.
Bastion caught Charlotte’s gaze and Honoria’s too.
“He looks like a terrible beast,” Honoria said.
“That is Bastion, His Grace’s steed,” Mary said.
Bastion flared his nostrils and shook his obsidian mane, neighing loudly. Honoria gulped and turned away, shaking her head.
“Do you not share a kinship with horses, My Lady?” Lydia asked.
“A small one, but in truth, animals tend to frighten me. I fear they could leap at me at any moment and lose control. They are not governed by the same rules as we are,” Honoria replied.
