She Watched the Man She Had Loved for Four Years Propose to Her Best Friend—Unaware the Duke Who Had Silently Loved Her All Along Was Finally Ready to Make Her His Duchess

PART 4 

The ride on Thursday lasted two hours.

Nicholas did not attempt to impress her. This surprised Caroline. She had expected some display — men of rank often performed modesty in ways that required everyone to notice how modest they were being. Nicholas simply arrived.

Orion attempted to bite him.

Caroline laughed for nearly a minute.

Nicholas regarded the horse. “I have changed my mind.”

“You cannot. Eight hundred guineas.”

“I shall sell him.”

“To whom?”

“France.”

“You monster.”

Orion attempted to bite him again. Nicholas stepped aside. “Perhaps Spain.”

Caroline laughed again. They rode through the western fields. At first they spoke about horses, then land, then a proposed road that Sir William opposed. Nicholas disagreed with Sir William. Caroline disagreed with Nicholas. By the time they reached the ridge above the river, they were arguing.

“You cannot simply move a road because the map appears cleaner,” Caroline said.

“I did not say cleaner. I said efficient.”

“They are not synonyms.”

“In your mouth, they are.”

Nicholas looked at her. “What an alarming amount of attention you pay to my mouth.”

Caroline nearly dropped her reins. He continued riding.

“Nicholas Ravenscroft.”

“Yes. That was shameless. Accurate, however.”

She felt herself blush. He saw. Mercifully, he said nothing.

They reached the ridge. Below them, winter fields stretched toward the river — brown and gold beneath a pale sky. Caroline became quiet. Nicholas waited.

Finally, she said, “Samuel and Cecilia leave for London tomorrow. I am told they want me to visit after the wedding.”

“And will you?”

“Eventually.”

Nicholas looked toward the river. “You need not be heroic.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You have decided, I suspect, that because neither of them did anything wrong, you have no right to need distance.”

She stared at him. It was infuriating. He had done it again — seen something she had not said.

“They are my friends.”

“Yes.”

“I love Cecilia.”

“I know.”

“I do not want her happiness to become something she has to apologize for.”

“Good.”

“So I should behave normally.”

“No.”

Caroline blinked. “No?”

“You should behave honestly.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“Most worthwhile things are.”

She looked away. “How honest?”

“Enough to stop punishing yourself for being hurt.”

Caroline’s throat tightened. Nicholas continued looking ahead. He did not watch her reaction. Another kindness. Perhaps that was what made her answer.

“I thought he was going to marry me.”

“I know.”

“I had imagined the house.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightened.

“The rooms. The garden. I even thought about whether I would move the breakfast table, because Samuel hates morning light directly in his eyes.” She laughed bitterly. “How absurd is that?”

“Not absurd.”

“I planned where a table would stand in a house no one had asked me to live in.”

“You hoped.”

“I invented.”

“Both can be true.”

Caroline looked at him. Nicholas finally met her eyes.

“You always know what to say.”

“No. You seem to.”

“I know what not to say. That Hartley is a fool. That you are better without him. That you will forget him tomorrow. That everything happens for a reason.”

Caroline smiled faintly. “I particularly hate the last one.”

“As do I.”

“Why?”

“Because people generally say it when they cannot think of a reason.”

She laughed. The wind lifted a strand of hair across her cheek. Nicholas wanted to reach for it. He did not. That restraint was becoming a profession.

Caroline looked at him for a long moment. “Why are you doing this?”

“Riding?”

“You know what I mean.”

Nicholas’s pulse changed. Not yet. He could tell her now. He could end the uncertainty. But Caroline was still speaking about another man’s breakfast table. He would not ask her heart to change owners like property.

So he smiled.

“Perhaps I like arguing with you.”

“You can argue with anyone.”

“Not as well.”

“That is almost a compliment.”

“Don’t become accustomed to it.”

She recognized her own words and smiled. They turned homeward. Caroline did not know that Nicholas had wanted to tell her he loved her. Nicholas did not know that for almost half the journey back, Caroline forgot to think about Samuel.

It was not much.

But love, when it is real, does not always enter with trumpets. Sometimes it begins with an hour in which grief forgets to occupy every chair.

Over the next fortnight, Nicholas appeared with a frequency Caroline initially attributed to coincidence.

He attended dinner at Everly Park. Coincidence. He encountered her at the village assembly. Coincidence. He sent Sir William a book on agricultural drainage and included another volume because, according to his note, “Miss Everly will disagree with chapter seven and ought to be given the opportunity.”

Annoying coincidence.

Then he appeared at Mrs. Hargreaves’s musical evening — an event Nicholas had once described as three hours of society being punished for having ears.

Caroline found him beside the refreshments. She stopped.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating a tart.”

“You hate musical evenings.”

“I am developing character.”

“You are following me.”

Nicholas ate the tart. Caroline stared. He swallowed.

“An extraordinary accusation.”

“Is it inaccurate?”

“Entirely. And —” He looked at the ceiling. “No.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “You are.”

“Do lower your voice. I have a reputation.”

She laughed. Across the room, two mothers immediately looked toward them. Nicholas noticed. Caroline did not. That too was becoming familiar.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you keep appearing?”

He could evade again. He discovered he no longer wanted to.

“Because I enjoy your company.”

Caroline’s smile softened. “So do several people.”

“I am not responsible for their poor judgment.”

“Nicholas.”

He looked at her. She had begun using his name more often. Every time she did, something foolish happened inside him.

“I enjoy yours,” he repeated. No joke this time.

Caroline’s expression changed. A tiny silence opened between them. Then Mrs. Hargreaves announced a soprano. The moment vanished — but not entirely.

Later that evening, Caroline found herself watching Nicholas while he spoke to an elderly gentleman near the fire. She wondered what London saw when it looked at him. Power, certainly. A title. Wealth. Influence. A man whose displeasure could close doors.

Caroline had always seen those things too. Perhaps that was why she had never looked further. Samuel had seemed safe. Familiar. Simple. Nicholas had belonged to another world — not socially, but imaginatively. She had never wanted to be a duchess. She had never pictured herself at Rivenhall. Never wondered what Nicholas looked like at breakfast.

The thought arrived unexpectedly.

What did Nicholas look like at breakfast?

Caroline nearly choked on her lemonade.

She looked again toward Nicholas. He caught her watching. Instead of looking away, he raised one eyebrow.

Caroline immediately turned toward the soprano.

Behind her, Nicholas smiled.