Page 49 of A Game of Hearts

“Your faith in me is... more than I deserve, perhaps. But I find myself quite determined to prove worthy of it.”

The double meaning in his words made her heart flutter. Around them, other couples settled at the small tables, but Emma was aware only of Nathaniel’s careful movements as he drew his chair close enough for them to work together while maintaining proper distance.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, selecting a piece of cream-colored paper, “you might show me where to begin?”

Emma demonstrated the first fold, creating a heart shape from the paper.

“The trick is to be both precise and gentle. Too much force and the paper creases wrongly. Too little and the fold lacks definition.”

Nathaniel’s hands moved with surprising delicacy as he copied her actions. His attention to the task reminded her of how he had described handling ship’s navigational instruments - that same careful balance of strength and precision.

“Like this?”

He held up his attempt.

“Perfect.” She found herself smiling at his obvious satisfaction. “Now for the more challenging part - placing the lace without crushing it.”

“I defer to your expertise.” His voice held warm humour. “Though I confess, watching you work makes it appear deceptively simple.”

She handed him a piece of delicate lace. Their fingers brushed, sending that now-familiar spark through her entire body. When she dared look up, she found his eyes dark with awareness.

“Sometimes,” she said softly, “the most worthwhile things require careful handling.”

His expression softened with understanding.

“And patience?”

“And patience.” She returned her attention to her own work, though her heart raced at the tenderness in his tone. “Though the results can be worth the effort.”

Around them, other couples chatted as they worked. Lady Beatrice’s laugh carried from where she sat with Lord James, who appeared to have tangled himself thoroughly in ribbon. The Duke moved between tables, offering encouragement and the occasional jest.

But Emma was aware only of Nathaniel’s presence beside her, of how his careful movements showed his determination to master this delicate task. Just as he was determined to prove himself worthy of her renewed trust. When she glanced at him again, she found him frowning in concentration as he attempted to tie a tiny bow. His large hands moved with infinite care, treating the fragile ribbon as if it were precious. Something in her chest tightened at the sight.

Oh.

The realisation struck her with the force of summer lightning. This man, who could command a ship through storm and battle, who maintained rigid control in all things, was willing to risk appearing foolish with paper and ribbon, simply to share this activity with her. To prove that he could learn gentleness, could balance strength with delicacy.

And she loved him for it. The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt like coming home - like finding the missing piece of a puzzle she hadn’t known needed solving.

“I appear to have created a knot rather than a bow,” Nathaniel’s rueful voice broke into her revelation. “Though in my defence, these ribbons are remarkably uncooperative.”

Emma blinked back the tears that had gathered without her noticing.

“Here,” she managed, reaching to help him. “Sometimes it helps to loop it this way first...”

Their hands brushed again as she demonstrated, and she wondered if he could feel how her fingers trembled. If he could somehow sense the momentous discovery that she had just made.

But no. This newfound knowledge was hers to keep safe, at least for now. They were still rebuilding trust, still finding their way back to each other. A declaration of her heart’s certainty could wait until the ground between them was more secure.

“Your token is coming along quite well,” the Duke observed, pausing beside their table. “Though Lord Limnwood, I believe that particular knot might be better suited to securing a mainsail than adorning a Valentine.”

Nathaniel’s quiet laugh held no trace of his usual reserve.

“I fear that you’re right, Your Grace. Though Miss Everton’s patience with my attempts is admirable.”

“Admirable indeed.” The Duke’s eyes twinkled as he glanced between them. “How fortunate that this house party has allowed for such... instruction in delicate matters.”

Emma felt her cheeks warm at his knowing tone. Around them, she could sense other guests watching with poorly concealed interest. Their reconciliation was obvious - and obviously noteworthy to society’s observers.