“She is annoyed about Lady Kate,” Nathaniel whispered, pulling Leah back for a moment while her mother wandered on ahead. “Whatever she says to you tonight, however she might behave, just know that it is not your fault. It is mine for refusing her selection.”
Leah nodded uncertainly, her breaths shallow. “I shall try to remember.”
“It is good to see you by the way,” he said, smiling. “It feels like only yesterday that we dined together.”
She smiled back, albeit anxiously. “It rather sounds as if you missed me.”
“I admit, I have,” he replied, surprised to find that he meant it.
Her smile turned into a frown. “What happened?” she whispered, lifting her fingertips to the lightly bruised curve beneath his eye. “This is not the same one you had at Mrs. Dibney’s dinner party.”
He flinched at her touch, for he had not expected it. “I confess, it happened the night of the dinner party. I had imbibed too much, and I fell from the carriage when I arrived here. I am particularly clumsy after I have consumed a large quantity of wine.”
“You do seem rather prone to injuries,” she remarked gently, curiously, her fingertips still caressing the bruised skin—almost as if she did not realize she was doing it. “Please, take care of yourself, or I shall worry.”
He caught hold of her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I shall try, for the last thing I want is for you to worry. Did my letters reach you?”
In place of his actual presence at her side, for there had been very few events taking place during the past week, he had tried to write to her every day, so she would know that he had not forgotten their promise to one another. She, however, had only written back twice with short letters that answered none of his questions.
“They did,” she replied carefully, “but I decided it would be better if we talked in person. Writing letters is much too… intimate, and I would not want my mother or father prying.”
Her response surprised him. “Ah… very well, then I shall cease all correspondence unless it pertains to an event. Would that suffice? I could add it to our contract if you like?”
Too intimate?He had not considered that, but he supposed that writing the letters to herhadfelt rather too familiar, as if he knew her better than he did. But he could not deny that he had enjoyed the pastime, for he rarely had anyone interesting to correspond with, other than old friends who had their own lives and wives and families to distract them.
“I think that would be for the best.” She hesitated. “But I am so very grateful for the gown you sent. I did not think it was an insult at all. It is… the most beautiful thing I have ever owned.”
He smiled, soothed by her words. “I am glad.”
“Nathaniel!” Abigail shouted from within the dining room, making him wince.
“I believe my mother wishes to enjoy our presence. Did you notice how charmingly she requested it?” he observed drily, offering his arm to lead Leah into the room.
She took it, chuckling softly. “I might be mistaken,” she whispered, close to his ear, “but I do not think your mother likes me very much.”
“Whatever could have given you such an outlandish idea?” he teased, realizing that the simple dinner for four would be more of a challenge than he had anticipated.
And it was about to get much,muchworse…
“Is that my brooch?” Abigail half screamed the moment Nathaniel and Leah entered the modest dining room. Her hand flew to her throat as if it had somehow been plucked straight from the ruffles of her chemisette, stolen from right underneath her nose.
Nathaniel glanced down in a panic, noticing the glint of amethyst for the first time upon the neckline of Leah’s dress. He was certain he had written something in one of his letters about not wearing the brooch to dinner, but as he searched through his memory, he began to doubt himself. Perhaps, he had only meant to warn her not to wear it, for though it was a piece that his mother hated, he should have known that she would notice it immediately.
“It… was a gift,” Leah spluttered, covering the brooch with her hand as if she could somehow make it disappear. “Nathaniel sent it to me.”
Already seated at the table, Leah’s mother nodded effusively. “It is true, Your Grace.”
“I did, Mother,” Nathaniel confirmed. “You have enough jewels that you do not wear, and you have always said that purple does not become you, so I thought it should belong to someone who will cherish it.” He took a half step in front of Leah. “Do not be angry with her, Mother. I should have asked you first, but I did not think you would miss it, so blame me if you must blame someone.”
“Would you like it back?” Leah began unpinning the brooch, but Abigail swatted a dismissive hand through the air.
“My son is right; I do not care for the piece. Have it.” She sniffed. “It is all his property anyway, and I am never consulted in any of his decisions. Why should my jewelry be any different?”
Leah continued to unpin the brooch and walked with it to the chair where Abigail sat, showing such courage that Nathaniel could not take his eyes off her. He could tell she was upset by the way she chewed her lip, but she proceeded with grace, not allowing her nerves to stand in her way.
Gently, Leah set the brooch down on the table. “I cannot take something that was not given by the one who owns it. I would not have accepted it at all if I had known it came without your consent.”
Nathaniel held his breath, feeling utterly foolish. He had not meant to embarrass Leah, had promised he would not in any capacity, and had somehow managed to do it anyway. In truth, he was not even certain why he had put the brooch into the box; he had seen it, thought of her, and in it had gone without a moment’s further consideration. Now, that rashness had come back to bite him.
