“I swear it.” Her voice was firm, but her sorrow and grief were living things, morphing into darkening shadows in her eyes, betraying her strength.
He wanted to kiss her, but if he did, he would never find his own strength to let go.
Nathan released her, stepped back, and with one last look full of regret, he walked away. The sound of her sobbing his name dug black holes in his heart that would never heal.
3
Christmas Eve 1821
The past was now a painful thing, a creature that no one wanted to see drawn into the light. Yet Nathan was going to face his past tonight in Sir Giles’s ballroom. He cast a glance at his brother. Lewis, as the spare to the heir, had escaped much of their father’s vitriol and had managed to find joy in life, where Nathan and their mother had failed. He seemed completely unperturbed by Nathan’s sudden, stony silence.
Lewis was still talking, unaware that Nathan had slipped back into his memories a moment ago and was only just now listening to Lewis’s excited chatter.
“Too many of the Swann ladies are still unwed. Which means I shall have to tread carefully. Wouldn’t want Mr. Swann catching me compromising one of his daughters. He’d have my head or my proposal. Neither situation appeals to me.” Lewis snickered.
Nathan shook his head. Someday Lewis would be trapped either in a marriage or a duel.
A young, ruddy-faced footman rushed out to meet them and opened the door. “Welcome, Your Grace, my lord. We’re so sorry about the delay. The other carriages were stuck in the snow, and it took us a minute to move them.” He bowed to Lewis and Nathan.
Nathan offered a weary smile to the lad. He was probably the only man in England who wasn’t fond of having a title—or at least he wasn’t fond of the responsibilities and expectations that came with it. The only benefit was it meant his father was dead. There had been no love lost between the late Duke of Hastings and his two sons, even before their father had prevented Nathan from proposing to Thea.
The “Old Curmudgeon,” as Lewis often called him, had been bad-tempered, even on his best days. There was no satisfying him, no pleasing him. It was only after the man had died unexpectedly that Nathan had realized he’d given up everything he’d loved, when he could have asked Thea to wait. But then, at twenty years old, Nathan hadn’t been able to see eight years into the future and know his father would be gone. All he’d known was that his father would likely have tried to live forever just to spite Nathan. And now it was too late. Thea was no doubt married. She would have kept her word as she’d promised that awful day.
Fresh pain pricked his heart as he knew he would face her for the first time since they’d last seen each other eight years ago. Despite the general closeness of upper-class English society, he’d kept himself far away from any social circles that would have brought her into his view or even into conversation.
Yes, he’d demanded that she agree to move on, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be forced to face that painful reality again and again. He’d accepted that he was a coward long ago. So he’d become a recluse, hiding away at his estate in the country or traveling north to see to his land holdings in Scotland. His plan had worked. He’d heard not one word about Thea or any of the Swanns, and for that he’d been grateful—until tonight.
“You all right, brother?” Lewis asked as they both stood facing the front door of Sir Giles’s home.
“No, no, I’m afraid I’m not,” he muttered.
Lewis quirked a questioning brow. “Perhaps Thea won’t be here tonight.”
“I fear luck is never with a man like me.” She would most certainly be here, and he would be forced to watch her dance around the ballroom with a dashing man and hear whispers of her beautiful children and wonderful life, every bit of which she deserved.
His little brother clapped a gloved hand on his shoulder. “We shan’t stay long, then. A few dances and we can make our apologies and slip away.”
“No, I don’t wish to deprive you of tonight’s merriment. I will endure.” Nathan tried to sound teasing, but from the look of pity on Lewis’s face, he knew he’d failed miserably.
They ascended the steps to the black-painted oak doors of Pemberton Hall, tramping through the thick snow that layered the stone stairs, where the butler waited to take their greatcoats. Lewis, only a few steps ahead of Nathan, turned to flash him a smile and a wink before ducking into the grand ballroom, where he quickly vanished into the crowd.
Nathan scowled. He despised these social gatherings. Everyone attempted to throw their daughters under his feet, as though expecting him to propose marriage the second he tripped over them. More than once he’d narrowly avoided being trapped alone in a room with a young woman.
Once in that very scenario, he’d realized he was about to be “discovered” alone with a trembling young woman who clearly was terrified to be alone with a man. He’d made a hasty apology and run to the nearest window, which thankfully had been partially opened. Just as the girl’s father’s boots in the hall heralded Nathan’s doom, Nathan had leapt clear through into a patch of thick hedges. He’d then ducked down and crawled upon his belly through the flower beds along the base of the house, careful to avoid detection by the father, who’d expected to find his daughter in the arms of a duke. During his crawling escape, Nathan had nearly choked in fear as he’d come face to face with a pair of boots. When he’d lifted his head, he’d been relieved to see a gardener, not the girl’s father, staring down at him.
“Your Grace?” the man had asked.
“Sorry, my good man. Just thought I’d take a turn about the gardens. Could you kindly have a groom bring my horse around?”
The gardener had chuckled. “Of course, Your Grace. You wouldn’t be the first man crawling to freedom, I’ll tell you that much.” The old man had walked off chuckling.
The memory of that particularly fine spring day of him riding away at a breakneck pace from that manor house, his waistcoat ruined with soil, caused him almost to smile. Almost. Thea would have laughed at him. She— He stopped that thought before it could continue.
The sudden prospect of possibly seeing Thea again had him on edge with a mix of anticipation and dire dread, the combination of which was tossing his insides about as though he were on a ship in the midst of a vast and mighty storm. He ran his hand over his jaw and tried to still his nerves. Was she here? His hands were shaking as he tried in vain to steady himself. Would he see her standing there with the glow of love in her eyes for another man? If he did, could he bear it? Even if he couldn’t, he had to try—he had to do it for her. She couldn’t see him agonized like that; she didn’t deserve it. With a deep breath, Nathan stepped into Sir Giles’s ballroom.
The elegant golden-floored ballroom teemed with local gentry and many familiar faces from London. Sir Giles was a rare sort of man who could call the lowest gentlemen up to dukes his friends and get them all to pleasantly mingle without incident. Candles cast flickering shadows along the walls of those who stood talking and laughing. Light and laughter filled the room. A string quartet played lively tunes, filling the room with the delightful sounds. It would have been a magical night if it weren’t for the stabbing pain of his broken heart.