Page 6 of The Spinster's Stolen Hear
Nathan’s study was a small room, designed with practicality in mind rather than design. He was well aware that his mother hated the poky little space, equally as much as she had when the previous Viscount Whitmore, Nathan’s father, had occupied it.
Lady Rose Whitmore was a diminutive woman, small and bright like a bird. She still preferred black velvet and pearls, as if still in mourning, and her greying hair was kept neatly pulled back. The black velvet aged her more than any wrinkles, and she was still a remarkably beautiful woman.
Nathan resembled his father, with his tall, broad-shouldered frame and pale brown hair. However, his eyes belonged solely to his mother, being large, sharp, and green. He did not consider himself handsome, with a face and figure more suited to striding around a muddy field in all weathers, rather than donning silk and dancing slippers.
“I have so much work to do, Mother,” he tried again. “Lord Davenport will understand.”
“He won’t,” Rose answered with finality. “I must insist that you escort me, Nathan. If you don’t attend, the insult will be too deep to ignore.”
That was a point he could not argue with. Sighing, Nathan replaced his quill pen, leaned back in his seat, and eyed his mother.
“You really want me to go?”
Rose pursed her lips. “Youmustgo, Nathan.”
He sighed again. The Season was coming to an end, at long last. Nathan would have preferred to head to the countryside when London began to fill up for the yearly Season, but his work wouldn’t permit him. Furthermore, his mother would merely admonish him to make an appearance.
“I thought you’d have given up on finding me a bride for this Season, Mother,” he drawled. “I thought I’d been clear.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what Lord Colin Beckett says about you? The man who’s known you since childhood, and your dearest friend? He says that you throw yourself into work too much, and it’ll leave you a sad old bachelor one day.”
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about me behind my back to my friend,” Nathan responded, a little shaken. “Why should I marry if I don’t wish to?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll be alone. I won’t live forever, Nathan,” Rose shot back. “Family is the most important thing in the world, and aside from me,youdon’t have one. Your work won’t sit by the fire with you and hold your hand.”
I’m too tired for this.
“Very well, very well,” Nathan snapped ungraciously, getting to his feet. “I said I would come, and so I suppose I must. Now, if you don’t mind, Mother, I’d best go and get ready.”
“I’m glad,” Rose said, all smiles now that she’d gotten her way. “I’ve ordered the carriage for six o’ clock sharp.”
He grunted and stepped past her into the hallway. There was a mirror hanging opposite the door to his study, and Nathan found himself suddenly confronted with his reflection. He flinched, and paused, leaning forward to inspect himself.
Nathan had never been a dandy. In fact, he despised the over-reliance on ever-changing fashions one saw in the world these days. Good looks were a piece of good luck and not much else, and really counted for nothing. It was unfair that ladies were expected to market themselves by the blind luck of how their faces were shaped. Now,moneywas an asset worth having. Nathan recalled all too well the hard days of his youth, when a few bad investments and a run of ill luck had brought the Whitmore family almost to ruin.
Almost.
It had been hard work and perseverance which had brought them back from the brink, and now the Whitmores were a wealthy and well-respected family once again.
If he allowed himself to grow distracted, might they not slip back again? Nathan leaned closer to his reflection. Had that line between his eyebrows always been there? He forced himself to relax his forehead, but the line remained. He rubbed the space with his forefinger. The line remained, etched into his skin.
Shaking off the thought, he turned resolutely away from the mirror and hurried upstairs. If the carriage was coming at six, that didn’t leave him much time to get ready.
I hope you appreciate this, Davenport,he thought sourly.
***
“You shall ask Miss Davenport to dance, won’t you?” Rose asked.
Nathan, who had been staring out of the window and watching the dark scenery flash by, heaved a sigh. “Yes, Mother.”
“And don’t sigh like a dissatisfied child every few minutes.”
“I shall not.”
Rose adjusted her muffler, leaning back against the plush carriage seats. This was their finest carriage, freshly lacquered, with new padding on the seats and a few rugs and furs set aside solely to be used inside. It was a mark of pride for Nathan, keeping the carriage immaculate and up to date. In times gone by, people had pursed their lips in amusement when the Whitmore carriage rolled by, mud-splashed, and lopsided, with squeaky springs.
Not anymore. Not ever again, not if Nathan had anything to do with it.
