Page 51 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Yes.”

He frowned, unable to see her face as her bonnet shielded much of her profile and it was growing dark. Looking up, he saw Hatherley Hall above them, appearing through the trees. The windows were lit up, glowing with warmth and welcome and he had to fight back the urgent desire to wish things were different. To make them different.

“Do you regret coming?”

She was silent for such a long time he felt certain she would say yes, but then she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and though hers were unreadable in the dim light, he felt certain the grey would be full of storm clouds.

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t regret it.”

Nat let out a breath. “I’m glad. Neither do I.”

She laughed softly, and they made their way back to the hall in amicable silence.

Chapter 11

Dance with me.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 15th December 1815

“Nathaniel Ashford, you are a coward,” Nat told himself glumly as he drew his borrowed mount to a halt on Summer Hill. It was certainly not very summery at present, a thin flurry of snow buffeting about and hitting him in the face, making him blink and his cheeks sting.

About now, his cousin Aubrey would be twirling Meg around the ballroom, teaching her to waltz. It could have been Nat. It ought to have been Nat. Instead, he was out in this frigid weather, freezing his arse off and resenting Aubrey with every fibre of his being.

It was the only way, though. Safer for them both.

He didn’t think he was the only one who thought so, either. They’d been avoiding each other for the past week, ever since the visit to the vicarage. Of course, it was impossible to avoid each other entirely, but Meg breakfasted in her room, and Nat found reasons to be out of the house early, and to come back just as Meg and Della and the others had made plans to go out. There was dinner, naturally, and then they spoke, catching up with the events of the day, but they were not alone then, and under scrutiny, so there was no chance of slipping up and saying or doing, something that would have repercussions.

Hawkney was suspicious. That he was certain of. Nat didn’t think anyone else had noticed their sudden desire to be out of each other’s company; not yet, at least. But they would. Well, it would just make their inevitable breakup more believable, he thought morosely. Yet he missed her more and more with each day that passed, and catching glimpses of her about the house now and then only seemed to make matters worse.

“Bugger this!”

Why the devil should he avoid her? He liked her company, damn it, so he’d enjoy it while he could. He had no illusions that such a clever and vibrant woman as Miss Bancroft would choose him as her mate, certainly not if she had the dowry and connections she ought to have but….

He was about to turn Merlin around and head back to the hall, hopeful he might steal a dance from Aubrey, when a thought occurred to him. His grandmother had recognised Meg’s maternal family name, and they had objected to her mother’s marrying her father. That being the case, they must not have thought him good enough. What if Grandmother was right, and they’d love to have Meg back, to have the chance to make amends? What if she had a dowry and family? Then she would not have to work as a governess. Then he would not feel so damned guilty about abandoning her.

The thought ought to have made him feel better, but strangely it only unsettled him further. But this was not for him, this was for Meg. His feelings ought not to come into it. If he could do something for her, find her a place in society where she really could be safe and happy and valued as she ought to be… well, then he’d have done something worthwhile.

Patting Merlin’s neck, he urged the big gelding on and rode back to the Hall.

He found his grandmother in the family parlour, tucked up by the fire with a rug about her knees and a book in her hand. Her eyes had closed, though, her spectacles slipping half off her nose, and a soft snoring sound reached his ears.

It was warm by the fire, and lamps illuminated the room though it was still daylight, giving a cosy glow. He could perfectly understand why she preferred to be here, especially as it seemed she was making friends—and enjoying interfering in the town's life, he did not doubt.

Nat smiled, reaching over and twitching the rug so it covered her feet.

“What’s that?” the dowager said abruptly, blinking awake. “Oh, Nat. Don’t creep up on old ladies. You’ll give them an apoplexy.”

“Sorry, Gee-Gee. Good book, is it?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

She glared at him. “Very. Why d’you ask?”

“No reason,” he said, smothering a laugh and sitting down opposite her.

She set the book aside, placing the spectacles on top of it. “Well, what do you want?”

“Must I want something? Perhaps I just wanted to talk to you!”

“Perhaps, and I’m not saying you wouldn’t, but today, you want something. Spit it out,” she said, making shooing motions at him.