He moved away to make the rounds. Nathaniel held himself back, watching Alfred and Mary walk down the aisle towardthe house where the marriage breakfast waited for them. Clara ran up to them, looking happier than anyone, save the bride and groom themselves. She inserted herself between Mary and Alfred, holding their hands.
They were a perfect family.
Nathaniel felt a twinge of longing in his heart.
The celebrations were in full swing. Everyone was enjoying the food, the music, and the dancing. Alfred and Mary threw themselves into the celebrations. Mary had always struck Nathaniel as being reserved, a quality he admired. However, today she was radiant and was not holding anything back.
Agatha and Beatrice were drinking together like old friends. Edmund was swirling around the room, moving from person to person, as though he was well-acquainted with everyone.
Nathaniel was standing alone, distant, as though he were on an island. He stared at Charlotte. She was currently dancing with Lydia and Clara, the three of them smiling happily.
How could it be that she was fine when he was so tortured? Did she even care about what had transpired between them, or was she really so cold as to be able to push everything aside for the sake of her research?
He felt compromised. He wanted to speak to her, but not in front of everyone else. Yet how could he ask for a private audience? He was torn between the man he wanted to be and the man everyone expected.
Nathaniel Blackwood.
The Iron Duke.
He was both of these things and yet somehow neither.
So, who was he?
It disturbed him that the answer to this question did not come readily to him.
Beatrice sidled up to him, a smile on her face.
“Doesn’t it make you so happy to see everyone in such good spirits? This is exactly what I envisioned Alfred’s wedding to be.”
“I am glad you are in better spirits, Mother.”
“How could I ever be unhappy on such a joyous day?”
“I also noticed that you seem to be getting on splendidly with Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess.”
Beatrice tilted her head from side to side.
“She is an acquired taste, but she has a good heart. I am grateful for her support. I feel invigorated, Nathaniel. Once the celebrations are finished, we shall resume our search for a duchess.”
Nathaniel stiffened at this.
“If you think that is wise, Mother. There is no haste.”
“Yes, there is,” Beatrice said sharply, gripping his forearm. “For the family. We must find a suitable wife for you. Today only reminds me that we have dallied for too long. What happened with Lady Honoria was unfortunate, but I shall not allow that to occur again. The perfect match is out there. It requires only us to find her.”
“A perfect match,” Nathaniel repeated, a lump forming in his throat. “Mother, given how happy Alfred is, what if I were to marry for love, rather than duty? What if there were someone who might not make a suitable duchess but would make me happy?”
A shadow came over Beatrice’s face.
“How could you possibly be happy with anyone who would be an unsuitable duchess? Is there someone you have in mind, Nathaniel? Have you been keeping something from me?” There was a sharpness that appeared in her words.
“No, Mother,” Nathaniel said quickly. “I was only speaking hypothetically.”
“We must continue to present a good front. Anyone you marry will represent the family. There are certain standards that are non-negotiable. I hope you do grow to love your wife, Nathaniel, but that cannot be the main consideration. We must think of the family first.”
“Yes, we must,” Nathaniel replied, although this time his words lacked their usual conviction. He looked up, searching for Charlotte, but she was no longer with Lydia and Clara. Panic seized his heart. He looked around and saw her slipping out of the door, heading toward the garden.
“Excuse me, Mother, but my presence is required elsewhere,” he said, walking toward Charlotte as though fate compelled him.
