26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

G uilt was a heavy feeling to carry. Melior slouched in the chair near the fire in the bedroom she shared with Nathaniel. She'd meant little to Lord Caraway and she'd almost trapped him into a marriage. Why had she assumed that he wanted a union in the first place?

In her ignorance, she'd assumed any man of consequence would desire her. She was Melior the superior. A sigh burst from her lips. The anger she'd harbored against her mother subsided into a disgust of all the nonsense with which she'd filled her head. She was no better than the next woman. But like every other woman, she wished to be loved and cherished, to know that she was wanted and not a burden on those around her.

However, that knowledge had come too late. If anyone knew how she'd come to be in that cloakroom, how she'd trusted her mother's scheme of getting Lord Caraway alone even if she'd not meant to follow the plan exactly, they'd despise her. Nathaniel would despise her.

She stood and crossed to the bedside table. Reaching into her book box, she extracted her spectacles and the charcoal picture John had drawn. The adoration in Nathaniel's face warmed her, but it would certainly turn to derision if he knew it was her fault that they'd been forced together. It pained her to think of the scorn he would heap upon her head. They had come so far, built so much in such a short time, but it would all be lost.

"Are you all right?" Nathaniel said from the door.

Melior quickly shoved the picture back into the box, but in her haste she knocked her spectacles off and they clattered across the floor. She froze.

Nathaniel stooped and picked them up, inspecting the cracked lenses. He peered at her, then back down at the wireframes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

She swallowed hard.

He crossed to where she stood and peered down into the box. Though the paper covered her current read considerably, the book was still evident.

"And all this time I thought it a jewelry case." He reached in and pulled out the novel. "I did not think a voracious reader as you could give up books so easily."

"I do not… that is… they are not…" Melior ran her sweating hands along her skirt.

"Why do you hide it?"

She tried to play innocent, casually crossing back to her seat by the fire. "Hide what?"

"Melior, one thing this last month has afforded me is a clear insight into which person I am addressing."

"I do not follow."

"Right now I am speaking with Miss Kendall, London socialite. I can see it in the set of your shoulders and the tilt of your chin. But I wish to speak with Melior, my wife, a woman who, it seems, still loves to read as much as she ever did, but for some reason chooses to hide it." He kneeled down beside her chair and peered up at her. "You can trust me."

Her hands began to tremble. "Mother said no gentleman would want a woman who knew more than he did. Men want women with fine looks who can advance their position in society, and who can bear them an heir or two."

"And you believe all that drivel?"

Did she? All of her mother's other teachings had proved to be quite false, why would this one be true? She reached out and gently pulled the spectacles out of Nathaniel's grasp. "I suppose not. When Aunt Lucinda gifted me these, my mother forbade me from ever wearing them in public. She was embarrassed that her nearly perfect daughter had such a plain imperfection as bad eyesight."

"It cannot be all that terrible. Many people use spectacles. Take John, for example—he could not create such beautiful art if he did not use lenses. Besides, your vision cannot be much of a disadvantage. In all the time I have known you, you have moved around unaided and without distress."

She smiled. "My vision is only blurry when the object is within a few feet of my face. Mother believes I ruined my eyes with all my late-night reading."

He rose up on one knee and leaned closer to her. "Does my face become blurry when I am this close?"

She swallowed hard but nodded.

"Put on your spectacles, Melior," he said gently.

She did as he asked, placing the beloved gift on the bridge of her nose. Small lines ran through his face, but when his eyes came into focus she nearly gasped. All this time she'd missed the bits of gold that intermixed with the green. The complex colors and lines of his face begged to be painted or at least drawn. How much of the world around her had she missed because she could not see things up close?

Hesitantly she reached up and ran a finger along the line of his jaw and under his lower lip. He inhaled slowly. She swept a few lush brown locks off his forehead. The breath he'd taken in came out as a sigh. His eyes closed.

Gently she laid a hand to the side of his face and pressed her lips to his. His hands found their way up her arms, grasped her shoulders, and pulled her closer. The hunger she felt in his touch gradually removed the doubt Al's conjecture about Lord Caraway had instilled. It did not matter if the marquess did not want her when a man far more real and caring did.

Nathaniel pulled away, breathing hard, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Melior," he whispered, "I need to stop."

Stop. What did that mean? She sat back and pulled the spectacles from her face. "I am sorry."

He grabbed both her hands in his. "No, do not be. It is just, well, there are things about me that you do not know and it makes it exceedingly hard for me to keep my distance."

"Do you need to, as you say, keep your distance?"

He chuckled. "Yes. One day you will understand, but for now you need to trust me." Scooting back, he took up the chair next to hers. "I think it wonderful that you are still reading. I am sorry that I startled you and broke your spectacles."

"You did not break them. My mother did, the day before we married."

"In a fit of anger?"

"Yes and no. She was upset when she found me reading, but I do not think she meant to throw my book on them."

Nathaniel gazed at the fire and Melior's mind was drawn back to the rest of the conversation with her mother. That had been the day she'd opened up the mysteries of marriage to her, when she'd spoken of Melior's responsibilities to her husband as if they were a horror to be borne. But the kiss she'd shared with Nathaniel had been anything but awful. In truth, it had been the most exquisite experience she'd ever had, far better than the little pecks men stole in the garden. Was it possible that this too was another of her mother's tainted views? One acquired because she'd married for status rather than true affection.

Melior glanced back at Nathaniel, a warm glow beginning in her chest as she evicted what she hoped were the last of her mother's lies. Lady Kendall may have entered into an unloving marriage, but that did not mean Melior had to settle for the same.

She slipped her spectacles back on, then reached out and grasped Nathaniel's hand.

He focused on her and smiled. "Thank you, Melior."

"For what?"

"For trusting me enough to share this little piece of your life."

"You are welcome, I suppose."

"Is it too much to ask that you share one more insight?"

"And what is that?"

"What really upset you in our conversation earlier?"

Melior flinched, not wanting to ruin this beautiful moment between them. If she shared the truth, it would wipe away the love shining in Nathaniel's eyes.

Love? Was that truly what she saw? But what else could it be? Perhaps it was only a deep affection or regard at this point, but it looked like love to her. Did she appear the same?

She pondered on the feelings within her heart but could not distinguish if it was love or not, having never truly experienced it before.

Finally she spoke, sharing a truth, albeit a different one than Nathaniel sought. "It hurt to think I meant so little to Lord Caraway, and that he might have truly wished me harm. Since all of this happened, I have had to readjust the way I view myself and those around me so much. One more rejection felt like the last straw that broke this camel's back."

"I can only imagine. Between the two of us, this marriage has changed far more in your life than it has in mine."

"You have had substantial changes too."

"Yes, but unlike you, my mother still wants me as part of her life."

She smiled, but sadness tugged at her heart for the mother she'd needed and never had, and for the reconciliation that would probably never come. It hurt to realize that one's parent, the person who should have their child's best interest in mind, was only concerned with what Society would think. That the one person who should have loved her for who she was, only tolerated her for the advancement she could bring.

He squeezed her hand. "My mother wants you as well."

Melior's eyes stung. "It has been a comfort to know that even though I have been cast off by my own parents, I still have her."

"And Mother has been comforted knowing she has you. After my father and Mary died, I never thought to see her so happy, but you, our marriage, all of it has brought back a glow in her smile that I have not seen in years. You brought joy back into our lives, Melior, which makes you special, even if your parents cannot see you for the treasure you truly are."

A tear trickled down her cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly. "That means more than you will ever know."