Page 38 of A Game of Hearts

Lady Agatha’s calm voice cut through the charged silence following Emma’s departure. Nathaniel felt each word like a physical blow. His hands began to shake as the full import of her statement registered - he had not only doubted Emma and James, he had publicly accused them without a moment’s consideration of their characters or their previous trustworthiness.

Lady Agatha had emerged from behind the shelves, her expression giving nothing away, though her eyes held a mixture of disappointment and concern that made Nathaniel’s shame deepen. He watched Emma’s aunt settle herself on the nearby couch with perfect composure, while his own world tilted on its axis.

The memory of Emma’s face as she fled - hurt, betrayal, heartbreak - burned behind his eyes. Only hours ago he had held her in that woodland clearing, had kissed her with such tenderness, had felt the walls he’d built around his heart beginning to crumble. Yet at the first hint of impropriety, he had betrayed not only their growing understanding but his own brother’s honour.

James stood rigidly by the window, his usual easy manner replaced by cold dignity. The transformation from his typically laughing brother to this stern-faced stranger was entirely Nathaniel’s doing.

“I must trust, brother,” James’ voice held an edge that Nathaniel had never heard before, “that my word would have been sufficient, had you bothered to ask for it.”

The words struck deep - not just because of their truth, but because they echoed countless conversations where James had urged him to trust more and judge less. He had failed them both - Emma with her generous heart that he had so casually broken, and James who had always supported him despite his rigid ways.

“I...” Nathaniel began, but Lord Radmill interrupted.

“Most irregular, this entire business. Though perhaps not surprising, given... certain circumstances.”

The implied slight to Emma’s reputation made Nathaniel’s hands clench. He had allowed this - his quick judgment had given credence to such assumptions. Even as his heart cried out to defend her, his own actions had denied him that right.

Lady Anne’s satisfied expression had faltered at Lady Agatha’s appearance, but now she rallied.

“Indeed. Though one must wonder why -”

“One must wonder,” Lady Agatha’s voice could have frozen an ocean, “why anyone would find it necessary to treat a private matter as a theatrical performance. The tableaux will begin shortly. I suggest that those not directly involved in this situation might better employ their time preparing for that entertainment.”

Her meaning was clear. The assembled onlookers shifted uncomfortably. Nathaniel noticed Lady Anne’s expression flicker - something about Lady Agatha’s presence had clearly disturbed her carefully laid plans. The sudden realisation that this might all have been planned - but not by Emma and James - sent fresh waves of self-loathing through him.

“Lady Agatha is quite right.” Lord Radmill seized the excuse to retreat. “Come, Lady Anne. We should...”

“Indeed you should.” Lady Agatha’s gaze fixed on Lady Anne with such penetrating intensity that the younger woman actually stepped back. “I’m sure that you have much to prepare for.”

The room emptied quickly, Lady Anne casting one uncertain glance over her shoulder as Lord Radmill all but dragged her away. When the door closed behind them, the silence stretched taut as a bowstring. Nathaniel’s chest felt too tight to breathe. The magnitude of his mistake pressed down on him like a physical weight. He had spent so many years guarding against scandal, trying to protect others as he had nearly failed to protect Charlotte, that he had become the very thing he feared - someone who destroyed reputations through hasty judgment.

“James.” His voice emerged rough with emotion. “I cannot express my shame at having doubted you. There can be no excuse for such behaviour from a brother.”

The words seemed pitifully inadequate against the depth of his transgression. He forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes, ready to accept whatever condemnation he found there. James’ expression softened slightly, though the hurt remained visible.

“Perhaps not. Though I begin to understand why Lady Anne took such pains to arrange this little scene.” At Nathaniel’s questioning look, he continued, “She seemed unusually interested in my movements this morning. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now...”

“Now it becomes clear that she arranged the entire situation.” Lady Agatha settled more comfortably in her chair, her tone suggesting that she had suspected something of the sort all along. “The forged notes, the careful timing, the theatrical discovery - all designed to create exactly the reaction it achieved.”

“But why would she...” Nathaniel broke off as understanding dawned, bringing fresh horror. “Because she saw. The other morning, during the treasure hunt, in the garden...”

He remembered their momentary kiss in the garden, after Emma had slipped into the pond - how perfect everything had seemed in that moment, no matter how short it had been.

They had brushed it off at the time, and he had thought that Lady Anne understood his veiled threat, understood that she should say or do nothing.

But his joy had made him careless - he should have known that Lady Anne would be watching, waiting for any opportunity to strike. Their little adventure in the woods this morning had obviously made Lady Anne infuriated – enough that she had chosen to act, in a manner that seemed indirect.

He had, without ever meaning to, handed her the perfect weapon - his own tendency to assume the worst at the first hint of impropriety.

“Something significant occurred between you the other morning, and, perhaps, today also?” Lady Agatha’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, I rather thought that it must have, given your changed behaviour at breakfast. Lady Anne would hardly have gone to such lengths without some motivation.”

The memory of that morning’s joy in the woodland clearing twisted like a knife in Nathaniel’s chest. How quickly he had turned from that moment of perfect understanding to assuming the worst of Emma’s character. The realisation made him physically ill.

“I have been a complete fool.” He sank into a chair, his head in his hands. Every beat of his heart seemed to echo with Emma’s name, with the memory of her hurt expression as she fled. “To doubt both my brother and the woman I most care for, all because of manufactured evidence...”

“Evidence manufactured by a woman who has shown herself quite capable of spite.” James’ voice held surprising venom. His expression, when Nathaniel dared look up, showed not just anger at Lady Anne but deep concern for his brother. “I confess, I had thought her merely ambitious. I see now that she is something far worse. It has been obvious for some time that she sees you as a good potential match – not that you would ever consider a woman like that. But now, now that you have shown signs of caring for Miss Everton, Lady Anne has chosen to eliminate the competition, as she sees it.”

“Eliminate the competition? I don’t…”