Page 51 of A Game of Hearts

His voice held a question.

“Of allowing us time to... rebuild.” She chose the word carefully. “Many chaperones would be more rigid after yesterday’s events.”

“Ah.” He covered her hand with his, just for a moment. “Then I must endeavour to prove worthy of her trust. As well as yours.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Around them, the garden seemed to hover between seasons - not quite winter anymore, but not yet spring.

“Rather like us,” Emma mused aloud.

“I beg your pardon?”

She flushed, not having meant to speak the thought.

“The garden. It’s caught between seasons, everything changing but nothing quite settled yet. Rather like...”

She hesitated.

“Rather like us,” he finished softly. “Though I find myself rather looking forward to spring.”

The warmth in his voice made her breath catch. Before she could respond, they reached the small ornamental bridge over the stream. They paused there, ostensibly to admire the view while their chaperones caught up.

“I have been thinking,” Nathaniel said carefully, “about writing to your father.”

Emma’s heart jumped at his words, though she kept her voice steady.

“About writing to my father?”

“Yes.” His eyes remained on the water below, though his hand tightened slightly where it covered hers on his arm. “To request permission to call on you in town. Properly. Though perhaps...” He hesitated. “Perhaps you might think it too soon?”

The uncertainty in his voice made her chest tight. This proud man, who had commanded ships and men, was willing to risk rejection for the chance to court her properly.

“I do not think it too soon,” she said softly. “Though Papa can be rather... protective.”

“As he should be.” Nathaniel finally turned to face her. “I would think less of him if he did not examine my intentions thoroughly. Particularly given recent events.”

“Your intentions?”

The word emerged breathier than she’d meant it to.

His expression softened.

“To court you properly. To prove myself worthy of your trust. To show your family that I can be relied upon to cherish their daughter’s happiness above rigid rules or appearances.”

Behind them, Emma heard Lady Agatha’s quiet cough - a gentle reminder that they had been standing rather close for rather long. They resumed walking, but something had shifted between them.

“I believe,” Emma said carefully, “that Papa will appreciate your honesty about recent events. He values truth above appearances.”

“Then he will understand why I must tell him everything. The mistakes that I made, the lessons that I have learned...” He glanced down at her. “The treasure that I hope to prove worthy of.”

Emma’s heart soared even as she maintained perfect composure.

“Such pretty speeches, my Lord. One might almost think you had been practicing them.”

His quiet laugh held real joy.

“Only in my head, a thousand times. Though they never seem quite adequate when actually spoken.”

“I find them perfectly adequate.” She smiled up at him. “Though perhaps actions speak louder than words?”