“I cannot,” she whispered, brokenly. “I cannot step away from you, Hampshire. It was what my father desired and you have a duty to honour that agreement. I will not and do not release you.” With another sniff, she lifted her gaze and fixed them to David, unsettling him with the sheer force of her glare. “We will marry.”
Without another word, she stalked from the room, her upset having heated to anger. David could do nothing more than watch her walk away, leaving him to stand alone with Nora.
He let out a slow breath, his spirits sinking. Whatever path lay ahead, it had just grown a good deal narrower.
“She is frightened of something, is she not?”
David looked at Nora, who held out her hand to him. Letting out a heavy sigh, he took her fingers in his and then brought them to his lips. “Yes, she is, but I do not know why.”
Nora gave him a small, sad smile. “It does not seem right for you to pull away from her now.”
The blood drained from his face. “You mean to suggest that I remain engaged to her? That I begin wedding preparations?”
She shook her head, her eyes damp. “No, that is not what I mean. I am afraid for her, concerned that, should you end your engagement publicly, something dreadful will happen. To my mind, it is to do with Mr. Rathbone.”
David hesitated, then nodded. “There is something I have not yet told you.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
“After I left Bolton’s office, I was walking past a coffee house on Threadneedle Street, and I heard his voice — Rathbone’s voice. I stopped, and I listened. He was speaking with another man, a clerk of some kind. He spoke of twelve years’ service to my uncle. He spoke of a promise he believed had been made to him — land, coin, a settlement — and of his dismissal as a betrayal. He said that he would have what he was owed, by whatever means he must, that he had always found other means.” His jaw set. “He believes himself wronged, Nora. Truly believes it. And a man with that kind of conviction is not one who will be reasoned out of his course.”
Nora had gone very still.
“And now we know where he turns when he wants what he is owed,” she said quietly. “He turns to Frederica.”
“Yes.” David drew a slow breath. “Whatever hold he has on her, that is the source of it. He believes my uncle stole from him, and he means to take recompense from my uncle’s daughter.”
“Then she is right to be afraid,” Nora said quietly.
“Yes.” David’s hand tightened around hers. “And I cannot in good conscience leave her exposed to him. Not now. Not until we know what he has used to bind her.”
Nora squeezed his fingers.
Taking in a deep breath, David nodded and stared at the carpet. He did not want to continue on in his engagement, did not want to have to continue on with this pretense, not when he had been so determined to set himself alongside Nora. All the same, however, he recognized that she was right, that there was still a very real and legitimate concern over what would happen should he declare it. “Then what should we do? If Frederica will not speak of it, then – ”
“Then we find out exactly what it is that Mr. Rathbone was speaking to Frederica about,” she interrupted, quietly. “He is the one who holds all the answers to this, Hampshire. Once we know what it is that he holds over Frederica, once we can dissipate her fears, then you will be truly free. You both shall.”
David pushed out a long, slow breath from tight lungs, trying to ignore his frustration and upset and instead, think only of Frederica and the pain and shock she must now be experiencing. “Then let us think on how to go about it all,” he said, as she smiled at him encouragingly. “I should like her to be free from fear. I would like her to find a suitable match, a gentleman who adores her and who can offer her all the affection I cannot.”
“You are a gentleman who cares deeply for those close to you,” she murmured, taking a small step closer to him as every part of him strained toward her, desperate to close the distance between them. “That is what makes you worthy of all this.”
Drawing a steadying breath, David, with an effort, released her hand. “My very being wants to be close to you,” he said, tightly. “But I will not act on it. Not until I know for certain that I am free to do so.”
When he looked back at her, rather than displeasure or upset, there was a brilliant smile on her face, light shining in her eyes. Her forgiveness of their past struggle was something he fought hard to grasp, feeling it slip from his fingers as guilt and regret tore it from his hand.
“An honourable gentleman indeed,” she whispered, putting one hand to her heart. “And a kiss most certainly worth waiting for.”
14
Three days had passed.
The ice was a masterwork of delicacy — a pale rose-coloured confection that arrived in a small glass dish, its surface catching the light like polished stone. Lord Hawkley presented it to Louisa with a slight bow and an expression of such earnest concern that Nora, watching from her own seat, had to press her lips together to suppress a smile.
“It is bergamot,” he explained, sitting down beside Louisa with a care that suggested he was afraid the chair itself might object to his proximity. “I inquired about your preference last Tuesday, if you recall, and you mentioned —”
“I mentioned it once, in passing, three weeks ago.” Louisa’s eyes were bright with a mixture of wonder and amusement. “You remembered?”
Lord Hawkley’s colour rose from his collar to his cheekbones — a slow, even flush that Nora found thoroughly endearing. “I may have made a note of it.”
