“I am not courting you,” blurted Mr. Hatcher, the words coming too quickly, as though breaking free of his control. He drew in a breath and steadied himself. “You mistake me. Entirely. I never intended—”
He stopped, as though the phrasing would not serve, and began again.
“I never meant to raise your expectations. I only hoped to make your acquaintance. To speak with you. Nothing more.” His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to her with an effort thatdid not go unnoticed. “This was my brother’s plan. I disagreed with it—argued most ardently against it, in fact—but we never intended to raise your expectations. I was persuaded that there was no harm in befriending you.”
Mr. Hatcher shifted in place, his brow furrowed as his eyes fixed upon the ground. “I know that is a poor excuse, but my brother is desperate to make your father’s acquaintance, and though his plan was genuinely the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard—and entirely out of character for him—he is my brother and has done so much for me. I couldn’t say no.”
Finally straightening, and with clear effort, Mr. Hatcher met her gaze, his eyes pleading for her to believe him. “I am deeply sorry.”
There was no evasion left in him now, no careful phrasing designed to preserve advantage. Whatever calculations had occupied his thoughts before had fallen away, leaving something far simpler and genuine behind. Mr. Hatcher meant his apology.
The certainty of that settled in, steady and undeniable, stripping the moment of its playfulness with a force she had not anticipated. But then, she hadn’t expected him to own up. Certainly, some thought it best to be direct, but there always remained an edge of calculation to their tone and words. Here stood a man who had misstepped, recognized it, and chose to admit it.
“Please forgive me,” he added. “Though I certainly do not deserve it.”
Stepping back, Nora wrinkled her nose. “If we are being truthful, I will admit that I recognized your game some time ago. You are not the first to attempt to win my good opinion for Papa’s sake—though this is by far the most unusual approach.”
The tension that had held him upright eased all at once, and Mr. Hatcher let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as though some unseen weight had been lifted. He stepped backwithout thinking, finding the nearest bench and dropping onto it, his posture deflating.
Then, as though realizing his audience, the gentleman snapped upright with a wince.
“I beg your pardon. That was poorly done,” he said quickly, rubbing his brow. “It isn’t that you are unappealing as far as sweethearts go, but I have no wish to marry, and that makes me ill-suited to the role.”
Straightening her skirts, Nora waved that aside. “As I have no intention of shackling myself to a husband, I do not begrudge you for feeling the same.” Pausing, she considered that and slanted him an amused look. “And the abject fear in your expression when you grasped my meaning was terribly entertaining. I was looking for a diversion tonight, and you served that purpose admirably, so I hold no ill will toward you, Mr. Hatcher.”
The gentleman’s brows rose at that, the faintest spark of his earlier ease returning to his expression as he pushed himself upright. “Served my purpose? Miss Eden, I cannot decide whether I ought to be flattered or deeply offended.”
“I recommend the former,” Nora replied lightly.
“Do you?” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. “To think I was merely a diversion.”
Nora allowed herself a small smile at that, the last of the earlier tension easing from her shoulders, and the distant music drifted from the Dunnings’ windows, adding a magical quality to the night as the gas lamps shivered. Neither spoke for a moment, the silence settling peacefully.
“I do hope you will not hold this against my brother,” added Mr. Hatcher in a quiet tone. “He is not usually so… imbecilic.”
“My father likes to say that if you must tell someone you are something, then you are not,” replied Nora with a raised brow.“If he isn’t imbecilic, I would think his actions would reflect that.”
Crossing his arms, Mr. Hatcher nodded. “I agree, but do not discount the power of desperation. Eden & Co. is the maker of fortunes, and there are many eager to do whatever they can to secure an invitation into their lofty ranks.”
“And it takes more than an introduction to gain that,” replied Nora with a huff. “Papa is select in his clientele, and manipulating his daughter is a terrible way to make a favorable impression.”
Mr. Hatcher winced at that. “As I told my brother, but he can be stubborn to the core. Takes after our father in that respect.”
“And why did he insist that you shoulder the burden of flirting with me?”
“Firstly, the intent wasn’t to flirt. Just be friendly,” he corrected.
“You simply cannot help yourself then, for you were flirting quite thoroughly,” replied Nora.
Leaning close, he lowered his voice to a coquettish murmur. “It is impossible when faced with such temptation.” Straightening, Mr. Hatcher’s tone grew amused. “Secondly, if you knew my brother at all, you wouldn’t question why I am the better choice. He’s a good man through and through, but he has all the social acumen of a granite slab.”
The explanation settled between them, rounding out the picture in a way that made more sense than she cared to admit. Nora let out a quiet breath, her irritation easing as the absurdity of it all took clearer shape: a brother with no skill for society, another pressed into service to smooth the path, and her caught neatly in the middle of their machinations.
The night pressed in gently around them, and Nora’s gaze drifted without aim, following the curve of the path, thescattered figures beyond, and the open doors that led back to the ball and all its noise.
And a thought seized hold.
“That brother of yours,” Nora said at last, her tone light but edged with something more purposeful. “He wished to make an impression, did he not?”
