Page 54 of A Game of Hearts

Emma saw Nathaniel’s cheeks colour slightly at this reference to his dedication to the project. But his voice was steady as he replied.

“I had excellent motivation to achieve perfection, Your Grace.”

The warmth in his tone made Emma’s heart flutter. She focused on her plate, aware of the knowing looks being exchanged around the table. Yet somehow, their gentle teasing felt like a blessing - society showing its approval of this careful courtship built on growing understanding.

When the ladies withdrew after dinner, Lady Beatrice pulled Emma into a quiet corner of the drawing room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lord Limnwood so... transformed,” she whispered. “Who would have thought that the man who once lectured us about proper behaviour would spend hours crafting masks just to create the perfect symbolism?”

“He hasn’t transformed,” Emma said softly, understanding finally dawning. “He’s simply found a way to be himself - to balance his natural care for propriety with his capacity for deeper feeling. Rather like those masks of his - strength and delicacy in perfect harmony.”

When the gentlemen joined them, Nathaniel made his way to where Emma sat at the pianoforte. She had been playing quietly, more to occupy her hands than for any real musical purpose.

“Might I turn pages for you?” he asked softly.

She nodded, moving slightly to make room on the bench. As she played, she was acutely conscious of his presence beside her, of how his fingers brushed near hers each time he reached to turn a page.

“I received another letter from your father today,” he said quietly between movements.

Emma’s fingers nearly stilled on the keys.

“Did you?”

“Yes.” His voice held something she couldn’t quite identify. “He was most particular about which events he expects to attend this Season. Events where, he suggested, he might observe how well I live up to my written assurances.”

A smile tugged at her lips.

“Papa can be rather...”

“Protective?” His own smile held understanding. “As he should be. Though I confess, his attention to detail rivals my own.”

“I wonder where he learned such careful attention to propriety?”

She kept her tone light, though her heart raced at this evidence of how seriously he was pursuing her father’s approval.

“I begin to think,” he said softly, “that proper attention to form can come from care rather than mere rigid rules. Your father’s careful questioning shows his love for you far more than simple acceptance would have done.”

Emma’s breath caught at the deeper meaning in his words. Before she could respond, the Duke called for some Scottish reels.

“One last practice before tomorrow’s ball,” he announced cheerfully. “Though perhaps something livelier than waltzes for now?”

As they took their places in the set, Emma caught Nathaniel’s eye. The warmth in his gaze made her heart soar. Tomorrow’s ball might mark the end of the house party, but it felt more like a beginning than an ending.

A beginning built on understanding, trust, and the perfect balance between proper form and genuine feeling.

Later, as the evening drew to a close, Emma found herself alone with Nathaniel for a brief moment in the card room. They had been playing whist with Lord James and Lady Beatrice, but their friends had been called away by the Duke for some mysterious consultation about tomorrow’s festivities.

“I suspect,” Nathaniel said dryly, “that we are being managed.”

“By the Duke?”

“By everyone, I rather think.” His smile held rueful amusement. “Though I cannot find it in myself to object. Even if every moment alone with you feels rather...”

“Rather what?”

Emma’s voice emerged softer than she’d intended.

“Rather dangerous.” He met her eyes. “Not to propriety - we are in full view of the drawing room. But to my peace of mind. Every time I’m near you, I find myself wanting... more.”