“I did not think that I was required to give you a list of all of my acquaintances, but since you were asking, yes, I know him. We were in school together.”
“Oh well, then you should be delighted,” she said and smiled. “I shall meet him outside. Unless you wish to come and greet him?”
There were a great many things Nathaniel wanted to wish Halston—smallpox, a case of smallpox, financial ruin, a harlot for a wife, and several broken bones—but he did not have a desire to wish him a good day.
“I must tend to matters,” he said, “but enjoy your walk.”
“I dare say I shall. And I will ensure he does not slip into the pond this time,” she said and made her way outside. Sarah hurried after her, having emerged from the shadows as servants had a habit of doing.
He stood and watched the door close. He shouldn’t follow her. He should go upstairs to his study. And yet he couldn’t quite stophis feet from walking forward to the window. There he stood, looking out to see a carriage arriving. The door opened, and his old nemesis appeared.
He was tall and clad in a dark suit over a yellow waistcoat, along with a top hat with a matching yellow ribbon. He bowed deeply, and she curtsied, even though she was a duchess and outranked him, although she seemed to have momentarily forgotten that. Then he kissed her hand. Nathaniel’s nails dug into the palm of his hand so much that he felt the skin tear.
Halston. Of all people… Why did it have to be Halston?
But then again, could he blame her? He hadn’t come forward to offer his hand in marriage, even though he wanted to, hadn’t he? He knew that’s what she wanted. And he wanted it, too. The only trouble was that he couldn’t be quite certain whether she wanted him to propose out of love or simply because he was a convenient choice.
It was that uncertainty that held him back. He had time, he had thought, to make up his mind. To find out her true motivations. To find out if she genuinely cared for him. Except it seemed the time was running out.
“You fool,” he chided himself, and marched back to his study. The door slammed shut behind him. Then he stopped before the portrait of his uncle, which still hung above the mantle, glaring down at him, judging him as he always had.
“You never thought I was good enough, did you?” he asked his uncle. “I was never as good as a natural-born son. Do you know what you’ve done to me, old man? You made me doubt my worth.”
He realized he was still digging his nails into his skin and released them. Looking down at his palms, he saw trickles of blood and quickly grabbed a handkerchief. Then he dropped into his seat.
He knew he should focus on his work, but the more he stared at the ledgers, the less the words made sense. Numbers blurred together, and his mind refused to comprehend anything he was reading. He couldn’t help but think about what was happening outside. Were they still walking? Had Halston managed to make her laugh? Did she really like him? The idea of Halston marrying Evelyn made him feel sick.
He shook his head. He shouldn’t worry about this. It didn’t concern him. She didn’t concern him. The only connection they had was through his uncle. And truthfully, it would be better for him if she left his estate. She was in the process of moving into the dower house now, which should help with the scandal, but he knew in the long run it wouldn’t work. There would still be whispers. No, she had to get married. He had to get her out of his hair. Did it have to be Halston? Of all people?
“Well, I was hoping I might see His Grace,” Halston said as they walked along the lake.
“He was busy,” she said. “Although he told me that the two of you went to school together.”
“We did,” he said and chuckled. “Although you wouldn’t recognize the boy I used to know at Eton. He was rather a scrawny little thing. Timid. Always in his books. Must’ve been difficult for him.”
“Being in his books?” she asked, not sure what he meant.
“No, being a spare.”
She frowned. Noticing her expression, he cleared his throat. “Back then, your late husband had a living son. Henry, I believe his name was—a sickly boy. Didn’t even live into adulthood, I don’t think. Anyhow, when I first met Nathaniel, he was the heir—carried himself like the heir, too. He would receive packages from his uncle quite often—books about running an estate and such, fine clothing. But then his uncle had a son, the aforementioned Henry. And suddenly Nathaniel wasn’t quite as high and mighty.” He chuckled.
Evelyn did not have a difficult time imagining Nathaniel as being high and mighty, yet something about the way Halston spoke of him did not sit right with her.
“So I take it you weren’t friends?”
“You could say that. I tried, once he was knocked down a few pegs and wasn’t quite as high and mighty. I really did try, butthe arrogance was just replaced with misery, and he was rather boring to be around. So I gave up. It is what it is, I suppose. Fate has shined brightly upon him in the end. And upon you.”
“Upon me?” she said.
“Yes. You managed to become a duchess, and you kept your virtue. I’d call that a win.”
“I suppose you could look at it like that,” she said, though she hadn’t felt fortunate. “I rather would not have married an old man at all, however.”
“I can imagine it must’ve been dreadful, kissing that old dragon,” he said.
She shuddered, her stomach rolling at the memory. “Let us not talk of such things,” she said.
“Very well. We shall not. Let me just say that a young lady such as yourself deserves much better. Anyhow, is that the pond Pendleton fell into?”
