Page 12 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
"Oh, whomever," Mrs. Smith clipped with a shrug of her shoulders. "Lady Somers soon enough, I suppose."
Nate kept his expression neutral, but did meet his wife's eye as she turned toward him, her brow furrowed in concern. He did not know what reaction she expected, but the absence of one entirely seemed to ease some of the stiffness from her little shoulders, at the very least.
She presented such a tragic figure, standing there with her eyes wide, absently picking at the flakes of pastry crust gripped in her hands as she anticipated some display of jealous outrage. He had the strangest urge to immediately rise to his feet, wrap her in his jacket, and lead her back outside into the safety of their carriage.
Of course, that was absurd. If anyone needed protecting here, it was Nate himself. He was the only one who wasn't neck deep in this family's mysterious doings, after all, and he'd gone and married into it thinking to give himself an advantage to his own ends.
He sighed, glancing up at the slim and unimposing figure of his wife's twin brother. Peter was significantly taller than Nell, but just as slender of build. His hair was the same dark brown as hers, ruffled from the wind and what was likely an utter lack of concern for his appearance.
Between this man and Mrs. Smith, a woman whose formidability was somewhat softened by her age, he thought he and little Eleanor stood quite a good united front, should the necessity arise to stand against them. After all, Nell was an Atlas now. That was how marriage worked. She was his now, not theirs.
When he turned back to Mrs. Smith, he saw her peering at him with her eyes narrowed, as though she could hear every insulting thought that had just spun through his head.
"Nellie, Peter," she said, "would you two be dears and bring the other box of pastries down to Harriet? I would like a moment to get to know my new nephew."
"Oh, but ..." Nell began, her voice thin and nervous.
"Come on," her brother cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It will give us a moment to talk too."
She looked over at Nate again, as though hoping for his input. He gave her a little nod, which she returned, turning on her heel and stepping back out onto the stairwell ahead of her brother, who soon followed, leaving him alone in the silent loft across from an unveiled Lady Silver.
Chapter 7
Nell had never felt quite so harried in her life.
She took the stairs two at a time, bursting out into the shop well ahead of her brother, and walked immediately forward to brace herself against the counter. She drew in deep breaths, telling herself that all was well, all was as it should be. In fact, it was better than they had anticipated! So, what in the world was the matter with her?
Peter had recovered the documents somehow, hadn't he? Yes, she had run off and eloped for what amounted to no good reason at all, but what did that matter opposite a successful mission? Oh, God, what must Nathaniel be thinking of her right now? He must at least suspect that she had known all along that Peter had the documents, and that she was nothing more than a scheming, aging debutante who'd seen the opportunity to snag a husband and taken it by any means necessary?
Didn't you?a voice in her head whispered.
"Nell!" Peter hissed, appearing at her elbow and sliding the box of pastries carelessly down the counter. "I have been beside myself with worry! I've been waiting here for three days, just sick with not knowing what had happened and how that rogue reacted when you failed to retrieve the documents. How could you do something so dangerous? How could you?!"
She could feel him seething next to her and knew his eyes were boring down on her, waiting for her to turn so that he might properly stare his fury into her face. It was a very good reason to remain as she was, looking at nothing more than the bit of marble countertop between her hands.
Harriet was in the opposite corner of the shop, assisting a patron in choosing from the new prints. All of them were engrossed in their conversation and blissfully unaware of the sharp whispering between two young people at the rear of the room.
"Eloping is hardly the most daring thing I've done, Brother," she said as evenly as she could. "I daresay it was sensible, as far as Society will be concerned."
"Well, yes," Peter replied, exasperation making his voice crack. "They weren't in the room all those times that the bloke casually suggested murder as a solution to a variety of problems. At best, he's simply depraved, but he could very well have a long history of butchering people who've gotten in his way, and now you are bound to him. Forever!"
"Yes," she agreed. "I am married to a wealthy, influential man who will give me a comfortable, respectable life. I am no longer the inevitable spinster daughter, dangling like a yoke around our parents' necks. I am not the tragic wallflower with a line of prettier sisters stifled in my shadow, awaiting a proposal that shall never come. I will not apologize for my decision!"
Peter was silent for so long that she gave up on her determination to avoid his eye. She eased her grip on the counter and turned to face him with a little sigh of defeat.
He looked as though she'd just dropped a bushel of rocks on his head, his face blank and stricken, arms hanging limply at his sides. He was staring at her, evidently gobsmacked by her words, though surely the facts of her situation had not come as any sort of surprise to him.
"None of us consider you a burden," he finally stammered, lifting his hands slightly, as though he were offering his words on an invisible platter. "We never would."
"It does not matter if you have these thoughts or not," she said, reaching out to grip one of his outstretched hands. "Reality is hardly shaped by the graciousness of a patient family. You cannot deny that I had no prospects, nor can you believe that our sisters would have had the opportunity to seek Aunt Zelda's patronage if I had remained her loyal spinster protege. She was determined to shape me into her image, Peter. I only want my own image, whatever it may be in the end."
"What about him?" Peter asked, rather than argue with the things she said. "How will you stay safe, alone with Atlas? What if he becomes angry someday and puts his hands on you?” He hesitated, a look of horrified realization passing over his face. “Or has he already?"
She snorted, shaking her head to stave off the desire to laugh at the question. "He hasn't touched me at all, in fact," she said with a little shrug and a baleful smile. "Not even a kiss after our wedding vows. I do not think you have anything to be concerned about, on that front. I rather think he plans to tuck me away somewhere and continue on with his life as it ever has been, which will leave me free to create a future all my own. It will be an amenable outcome for us both."
"Hm," Peter grumbled, his face a mask of doubt. "We shall see. I suppose we ought to go up and interrupt them now, in any event, before they start plotting things without us."
She inhaled deeply and nodded, giving her brother's hand one final squeeze. "Yes," she said. “Now, despite your private concerns with my choices, I must ask for your sympathy. Will you stand by me whilst Aunt Zelda’s disappointment is presented, likely at length and with great fervor?”
