For heaven’s sake! Men spent years maneuvering into opportunities like this. A single evening in Mr. Eden’s good graces might accomplish more for Hatcher & Byrnes than anything else he’d attempted in the past year. Jonathan knew that. Knew it with painful clarity.
And yet he found himself setting aside his drink.
“If you gentlemen will forgive me,” he said, “I promised Miss Eden a dance, and I have already neglected her company longer than intended.”
Lord Ainsworth barked a laugh. “Ah, I see, Mr. Hatcher. Are our eyes not fine enough to hold your attention?”
“Nonsense,” said Mr. Weatherby. “The man has more sense than the rest of us combined. Had I chosen dancing with my wife rather than hiding here with you fellows all these years, she might still tolerate me.”
A low ripple of amusement followed, but Mr. Eden merely waved one hand dismissively at the door.
“Go on, my boy,” he said, amusement glinting in eyes that were the mirror of Miss Eden’s. “I daresay this explains why my daughter has been so remarkably cheerful these past weeks.”
Heat crept up his neck, though whether from embarrassment or the uncomfortable awareness that Mr. Eden had noticed far more than he’d hoped, Jonathan couldn’t say, but before he could think whether to correct the fellow or to deny the insinuation, the menfolk brushed him away, their laughter following him into the corridor. Holding fast to what dignity remained, he turned his attention to the task at hand—and refused to consider whether or not this decision had been a mistake.
Jonathan trod down the crowded corridors, searching for any sign of her as his feet drew him to her likely hiding place. The library doors stood partially open, golden light spilling quietly into the corridor, and he paused briefly before steppinginside and ducking around the bookshelf that hid her away. Miss Eden glanced from her book, and for the briefest instant something unreadable crossed her face before smoothing away once more.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
The sharp tone caught him so thoroughly off guard that Jonathan stopped short.
“You vanished without a word,” he replied, for it was the only thing he could think to say.
“I’ve had my fill of business tonight—especially my father’s. I saw no reason to remain.” And with that, Miss Eden’s attention returned to the open book.
Shifting in place, Jonathan considered what to say. “You’ve had a dreadful evening, and I do not want to leave you alone.”
At that, her fingers paused before turning the page. “That is kind of you, Mr. Hatcher.”
The statement landed with a hollow thud, and Jonathan found himself studying her once again, increasingly certain something had shifted between them, though he couldn’t say what or why. Jonathan only knew he didn’t care for it.
“But I assure you, I am quite capable of managing on my own,” she added. “You got precisely what you wanted, so you needn’t be my nursemaid any longer.”
The sharp edges of the truth scraped at his ribs as the words settled into his chest. Men had approached her all her life wanting something. Her father’s influence. Her fortune. Her connections. Not a single one cared about the lady herself. It was little wonder that she questioned the sincerity of any gentleman who attached himself to her side.
And Jonathan Hatcher had been one of them.
The yellowback rested open across her lap whilst the lamplight flickered softly across her features, and Jonathan was seized with the dreadful certainty that if he answered poorlynow, this fragile friendship would shatter. But he was not like his brothers, who knew the right words to say and how to express themselves sensibly (except for Malcolm, who may be the only one of the lot more ill-suited to stand here). So Jonathan decided to offer the truth.
“I do not wish to be your nursemaid, Miss Eden. I wish to be your friend, and I came tonight to spend the evening with you.” Taking in a deep breath, he added with certainty, “I am precisely where I wish to be.”
Chapter 23
Gaze rising from the page, Miss Eden studied him with dark eyes that peered straight through him before they dropped once more, her fingertips absently brushing the open page.
“That is kind of you to say,” she murmured. “But men don’t linger at my side once they’ve obtained an introduction to my father. I find it foolish to expect otherwise.”
Jonathan’s throat tightened. There it was. Not spoken plainly enough to demand response, yet near enough all the same. An opening. An opportunity to finally drag the ugly truth fully into the light where it belonged.
But what good would it do now? What purpose would it serve beyond relieving his conscience at the expense of her pride? Whatever his motives had been, they no longer resembled the feelings twisting inside him now, tying him in knots at the sight of her despair and heartache. And giving her that truth now would only add to that pain.
“I am not them,” he said. “The past is the past, and I want nothing more than to be your friend, Miss Eden.”
*
The words settled softly between them, and for one foolish instant Nora found herself waiting for more. For honesty. For an awkward confession dragged painfully into the open now that she had laid the path plainly before him.
But it never came.
