She looked up and smiled, relieved that the topic had been changed.
“It is. We were at the end of that pier, and I was pointing out a rather lovely rainbow trout when he leaned forward and fell.”
“Through no assistance of your own, of course?” he said slyly.
“Of course,” she said. “May I see the scene of the crime?” he asked.
“Well, there was no crime committed, but if you would like to see it, yes,” she said. They walked out onto the pier.
Halfway there, he turned to her. “Promise me if I should lose my footing somehow, you will pull me back. I shouldn’t like to be the entire ton’s laughingstock.”
“I promise,” she said, smiling.
But this wasn’t what she had dreamed of in a husband. His wit carried a particular malice with it, and while he was handsome, she had never quite liked blond-haired gentlemen. His face was pleasant enough to look at, though ordinary. And while he was tall and broad in the shoulders, there was nothing outstanding about his physique.
And even though she could converse with him, and he even had managed to make her smile, there was something not quite right. Something was missing. She wasn’t quite sure what. Still, he would do.
Goodness gracious, how far my expectations of a husband have fallen.
She shook her head, making sure he didn’t see. Her father—how much she despised him. He had written her two lengthy letters, lamenting her decision to stay with Nathaniel when she should’ve been staying with him. In the same letters, he had spoken badly about Nathaniel, calling him out for sheltering her and enabling her foolishness, as her father called it. What protection had Nathaniel provided? She somehow doubted it. It was quite unusual for a duke to do for her what he had done.
She had to stop thinking about him. Whatever was between them didn’t mean enough to him to want to marry her. Therefore, she had to look out for herself. She had to make sure she had a husband she could tolerate. A future worth living. She had to leave Nathaniel behind. He wasn’t going to give voice to whatever it was that lay between them. And she couldn’t, because if things went badly between her and Halston, or worse, between her and her father, she would need Nathaniel. If she declared how she felt about him and he did not feel the same, it would be humiliating. She would have to go home then. No, she had to put it all aside. The future was Halston, or someone like him.
They had reached the edge of the pier.
He shielded his eyes with one hand from the sun. “Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked.
“Yes, Pendleton’s hat. Story has it that it is still floating around somewhere in your pond.”
“I should think not,” she said.
“Very well,” he replied. “Well, I do thank you for bringing me here. I shall be able to vividly retell him the story next time I see him.”
“Is that not unkind, to remind him of his misfortune?”
“Do you not think it was unkind to push him in?” He laughed as he spoke.
“I didn’t,” she said.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” he said. “Now, I’m rather peckish. Do you suppose we could have a spot of tea and perhaps some biscuits?”
“I think that can be arranged,” she said.
“Very well.” He proffered his arm, and she took it. As they walked, he placed his hand over hers on his arm, locking her in. “Just so you don’t end up tumbling in,” he said with a laugh.
She smiled, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from his hand on her arm. Not as dreadful as when her late husband would touch her, but it was still wrong. Inadvertently, her memory turned to the times when Nathaniel had touched her. That had been warm. Right. Nothing like this.
Taking a deep breath, she once again pushed those memories away. She had to focus on the future now.
CHAPTER 22
Nathaniel stood at the bottom of the stairs, aware that he had to look like a disapproving father waiting for his daughter. Still, this could not go on.
He’d been fully resolved to let her do as she pleased, but then he’d heard the giggles coming from the drawing room, where she and Halston had taken tea. He had appeared from the adjacent room, unable to contain his curiosity.
Halston had leaned back, one hand resting on the back of Evelyn’s chair. “I still think we’re already far more than mere acquaintances.” And she had appeared relaxed. Relaxed the way he hadn’t seen her in a very long time—if ever.
She was enjoying his company, and it was tearing his stomach to shreds. Even now, as he thought of it, bile pushed up the back of his throat before he had to force it down.
