Page 35 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
Who are you really?
Why would you agree to marry me?
He sighed, using his finger under her chin to tip her head up, where he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "You are right that I have been less than forthcoming about the details of my past," he said, completely misunderstanding her silence. "Perhaps tonight, I can tell you the whole sad story and give you some context as to why I'm such a chilly prig more oft than not."
"I would never call you that," she protested, though to be frank, his nearness was making her head swim. All sorts of memories that a lady ought never harbor were sparking to life amidst her confusion and his nearness.
The ache between her legs was a reminder of what had occurred, and while not exactly pleasant, it was somehow delicious in its own way, a secret reminder of how she had changed. She licked her lips and took a bracing breath. "I am not embarrassed," she assured him, this time managing to keep his eye without losing her nerve. "Not in the least."
He grinned, sliding his fingers along the length of her arms and drawing her against him. "I am, to be truthful. It was not my finest performance."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice gone breathy and soft. She found herself leaning onto her toes, wishing to be close enough to kiss him again, the way she had last night.
"I will show you," he assured her, "soon. Perhaps even tonight."
Nell could feel her heart thudding insistently against her ribs, as though demanding she react in a more demonstrative way than she was. She looked at his face, his lovely face and perfect, sculpted lips and wondered what it might feel like to be the sort of woman who kissed a man of her own volition, with pure confidence that it would be well received.
A sharp rap on the wood of the open door cracked the surface of her trance, drawing her quickly and harshly back to earth. Behind Nathaniel, one of the footmen was hovering next to the door, looking supremely uncomfortable.
"What is it?" Nathaniel sighed, releasing Nell and turning to face the poor lad, who looked as though he wished to be anywhere else on the whole of the planet.
"Visitors, sir. Here to see Mrs. Atlas."
"Me?" Nell said, sharing a look of surprise with her husband. "Who is it?"
"It is a Lady Dempierre and her daughter, sir," the lad answered quickly. "They’ve come down from Dover. The younger lady says she is recently friends with Mrs. Atlas."
This time the look shared between Nell and Nathaniel carried a sight more weight.
"We are hardly dressed to receive company, Stuart," Nate said. "Do we even have a room available in which to make conversation?"
"The drawing room has been cleaned out, sir, and has plenty of natural light. That is where we've put the two ladies, though we will move them if you so wish."
"No. It will do," Nathaniel said, running an agitated hand through his hair. "It's too late to make any other impression, after all," he added, for Nell's benefit.
"It appears that sometimes, the mountain does indeed come to Muhammad," Nell muttered, looking down at the dusty fingerprints on her skirt. "I suppose we must make the most of it."
Nathaniel was looking at her sidelong, as though something she'd said had caught him off guard. He blinked, shaking the confusion away, and held his arm out to her. "They intended to surprise us," he said. "So let’s surprise them in turn and appear from the trenches of our own labor. The unexpected often gives one opponent the upper hand, after all."
Nell was grateful to have her husband’s lead to follow, for she had no idea if that was true or not, nor did she have the first notion of where the drawing room might be.
Chapter 17
Nathaniel could have strangled that footman for interrupting them. He'd like to do it twice over for the news he brought, which had thoroughly shattered the moment for the foreseeable future. Of course he knew it was not poor Stuart's fault that the Dempierres were apparently ahead of the game, nor that Nathaniel would rather have hosted them in a barren orchard rather than let anyone see the house in its current state.
Meridian might not be his most beloved possession, but he did not care to see it exposed so when he was fully aware of its potential grandeur. Further, he did not like that his little wife was fussing at the dust on her skirts with her brows drawn together in dismay. It must have been a deliberate thing, to take them so unawares. It made him uneasy.
She pressed her spectacles up from where they were teetering on the tip of her nose and glanced at him with a sudden thought. "Ought I remove them?" she whispered as they walked from the ballroom. "I know they are not fashionable."
"Absolutely not," Nate replied firmly. "This is your home and your time being requested in a manner quite brash. If you see more comfortably with your spectacles on, then I should hope you never take them off again."
"Except to sleep," she said with a little smile. "I've broken more than one pair that way, much to my father's dismay."
He patted her hand, nodding to Stuart to lead them into the drawing room and greet their guests.
Both ladies were standing near the fire, speaking in low voices to one another, and dressed artfully enough to attend any ball in London at a moment's notice. They looked quite a bit alike, with dark blonde hair coiffed up into a spray of silk flowers and cheekbones sharp enough to be cast into relief, even in the middle of the day. They turned in unison, both of them immediately putting on gracious little smiles at their arrival.
"Oh, it is you!" the elder Dempierre woman exclaimed, leaving her daughter's side to rush toward Nate. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands as though they had known one another their whole lives, her mossy green eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Oh, Nathaniel, you are a man grown!"
