Page 60 of Rescued from Betrayal
Nathaniel stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”
Melior was tempted to follow him, knowing how this must have tipped his well-organized world on its edge, but Lady Stanford put a hand on hers.
“Let him go. It will take time for him to grow accustomed to the knowledge that life as he knew it started out far different than he had assumed.”
She let her mother-in-law’s wise words sink in. The knowledge of their families’ connections had indeed been hard to take.There were so many questions to ask—about Aunt Lucinda, about her father, but most importantly about how her mother and father-in-law had made a marriage work after only knowing each other such a short time.
Chapter 21
He was not good company, but Nathaniel could not seem to bring himself to talk as freely as everyone else around the table.
Al had not returned with Eddie and John after they’d visited neighbors earlier in the day but had returned home to attend to matters, no doubt because of female drama. However, he’d requested they meet at the paper mill in the morning so he might not be the only one subjected to shopping with his sisters.
Nathaniel knew he should be grateful to Al for taking the planning of an excursion out of his hands since it had been his intention to show Melior about town today before John had arrived. But his mind was consumed with confusion in light of the information shared by his mother.
Had his whole life been a lie?
“Do you know how paper is made?” John asked Melior.
John’s question pulled Nathaniel out of his reverie. Glancing up, he watched for her reaction. Her blue eyes sparked withinterest and perhaps a bit of excitement, but she shook her head and looked down at her plate.
The duke frowned, peering at his niece over his wine glass. She peeked up at him and, pursing her lips, gave another subtle shake of the head.
Nathaniel set his fork down and leaned back, suspicious of the silent dialogue playing out in front of him. John’s enthusiastic description of the process was drowned out by the thoughts consuming him.
When he was younger, he’d been allowed to stay at Kendall House for a couple of school holidays. The first few times he had stayed, Melior had always had a book nearby. Did she still indulge in a fair amount of reading?
Melior listened intently to John, but once or twice she glanced down at her plate, a secretive smile on her face. He’d seen that look before. She knew far more than she was letting on.
He began to put the pieces together. The first time John had come they took tea in the library, and his mother had mentioned Melior spent a good deal of time there. And yet when she’d found his book after dinner last evening, she’d denied reading novels.
John ended his long-winded explanation.
“You are quite versed in papermaking, Lord Newhurst.”
Her compliment was given with all the alacrity of the most featherheaded women in London. Why did she try so hard to make herself appear less intelligent?
“Thank you, Lady Stanford. It has been a particular fascination of mine.”
“As well as steam engines, if I recall.” She smiled demurely.
“Indeed.” John’s eyebrows inched up. “You have a fine memory.”
“Hardly,” Eddie quipped. “She was in the park walking with Lord Caraway on the day we met with Mr. Watt.”
Melior’s face fell at the reminder and Nathaniel’s heart fell with it. Why did her brother have to choose this time to remind her of what she had lost? Especially when things were looking up for them. Nathaniel wanted to smack him for the ill-timed reminder.
Thankfully the conversation was broken up by the arrival of the second course, but his curiosity about how well read Melior actually was remained.
When dinner concluded, Melior rose to leave them to their port. Something tugged at Nathaniel's heart as he watched her quietly walk to the door on her own. She would be alone, again, like she had been so much of the last few weeks.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “might we dispense with port this evening?”
Melior paused by the door, hopefulness in her eyes as she cast him a curious glance.
“Most definitely,” His Grace said, followed by a chorus of agreements.
The smile that bloomed on his wife’s face was worth twenty glasses of port and warmed his insides just as much. My, she was beautiful.
