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 5 

It happened slowly enough that Caroline did not know when to become alarmed.

She began expecting him. That was all. At dinner, she noticed whether Nicholas had arrived. At a gathering, she wondered whether he would be there. When something absurd happened, she found herself storing it, because Nicholas would appreciate the absurdity properly.

Once, while her father argued with a tradesman about a gate hinge, Caroline thought: Nicholas would say Papa has finally found an opponent worthy of him.

She stopped walking.

That was how Samuel had once lived in her mind. Not the same way, but near enough to frighten her.

She withdrew.

Nicholas noticed within four days — because of course he did. He did not pursue her immediately. That surprised her too. He simply gave her space.

A week passed.

Then an invitation arrived from Rivenhall Abbey. Not for Caroline — for the entire Everly family. Dinner.

Sir William accepted before Caroline could invent an objection.

“You like him,” her father said.

“I like many people.”

“You do not argue with many people for recreation.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves you inherited your mother’s courtship habits.”

Frances looked up. “I never argued with you.”

“You once called me an intellectually decorative man.”

“You had just said women should not read political pamphlets.”

“I improved.”

“You did.”

Sir William looked at Caroline. “Marriage.”

Caroline groaned. “I am not marrying anyone.”

“No one asked you.”

“Exactly.”

Her parents exchanged a glance. Caroline pointed at them. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Frances asked innocently.

“Being married at me.”

Sir William returned to his newspaper.

Rivenhall Abbey was not an abbey, at least not anymore. The original monastery had been dissolved centuries earlier, rebuilt twice, damaged by fire once, and eventually transformed into a sprawling stone house overlooking a broad valley. Caroline had expected grandeur. She had not expected warmth.

Books were everywhere. Dogs occupied furniture with aristocratic confidence. A suit of armor in the entrance hall was missing one gauntlet because, Nicholas explained, his younger brother had stolen it when he was eight, and no one had ever found it.

The Dowager Duchess — Nicholas’s mother — greeted Caroline without inspecting her like livestock. This was encouraging.

Lady Margaret Ravenscroft was sixty-two, silver-haired and elegant, with eyes suspiciously similar to her son’s.

“So,” she said.

Caroline waited.

“So.”

Margaret looked toward Nicholas. He gave his mother a warning glance. She smiled.

“Nothing.”

Caroline immediately knew there was something.

Dinner was lively. Sir William and Nicholas disagreed about trade. Frances and Margaret discovered a mutual acquaintance they both disliked. Caroline laughed more than she had expected.

Afterward, Nicholas showed Sir William a collection of maps. Caroline wandered into the long gallery. Portraits watched from the walls — Ravenscrofts, generations of them. Men in armor, women in silk, children holding dogs.

Caroline stopped before a portrait of Nicholas at perhaps twenty.

“You looked insufferable.”

His voice came behind her. “I was.”

She turned. He stood several feet away.

“You admit it.”

“I was twenty. That is not a defense. It is the best one available.”

Caroline looked back at the portrait. “You look angry.”

“I was bored. With being painted. With being told who I was expected to become.”

She glanced at him. “And did you become him?”

Nicholas came to stand beside her. “Some of him.”

“The terrifying parts.”

“Especially those.”

She smiled. Then her gaze moved down the gallery. “This place is extraordinary.”

“It is large.”

“That sounded almost apologetic.”

“I have discovered size impresses people who do not have to repair roofs.”

Caroline laughed. “You truly do not care whether I am impressed, do you?”

Nicholas turned toward her. “No.”

The answer came too quickly. Too honestly. Caroline’s smile faded.

“Why not?”

“Because I know you aren’t.”

“That should offend you.”

“It is one of the things I like most about you.”

Silence. The gallery suddenly seemed very long. Caroline’s heart began doing something she did not trust.

“You have never wanted Rivenhall,” he said.

“I hardly know it.”

“I do not mean the house.”

Caroline understood. The title. The position. The life.

“No.”

“Does that bother you?”

Nicholas’s expression softened. “Caroline, half the unmarried women I meet begin imagining themselves Duchess of Rivenhall before I have remembered their names.”

“That is a terrible thing to say.”

“It is also occasionally true.”

“And I —”

“You once forgot my title while telling me my opinion about enclosure was idiotic.”

“It was idiotic.”

“I know.”

She stared. “You agreed with me.”

“Eventually.”

“You never said.”

“I have dignity.”

She laughed. Nicholas smiled. Then slowly, the laughter faded.

They were standing too close now. Caroline had not noticed when that happened. She could see the small line beside his mouth, the darker ring around his gray eyes, the way his expression changed when he stopped being amused.

Her breath caught.

Nicholas saw. This time, he stepped back — not because he wanted distance, but because she did.

Caroline felt the absence immediately.

That frightened her more than his nearness had.

“I should find Mama.”

“Yes.”

She walked toward the door.

“Caroline.”

She turned.

“Stay.”

The word was simple. No demand. No pressure. Just a request.

She could have kept walking. She should have kept walking.

She stayed.

“Say it,” she whispered. “Whatever you are going to say. Say it now, so I can stop wondering.”

Nicholas crossed the distance between them in three strides. He stopped a foot away, close enough that she could see the war being fought in his face.

“I have loved you for two years.”

The words fell between them like stones into still water.

“Two years,” she repeated.

“And some months.”

“While I —”

“While you loved him. Yes.”

She stared at him. “You never said anything.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I had no interest in making you choose between a man and a title.”

“A title?”

“You know what I am.”

“I know who you are.”

His eyes held hers. “I was not certain you did.”

Caroline’s heart hurt — not the way it had hurt when Samuel knelt before Cecilia. This was something entirely different. Something opening. Something dangerous.

“Did you come to me because Samuel chose Cecilia?”

“No.” The answer was immediate. “I came to you because for the first time, there was no longer someone you were waiting for.”

Caroline swallowed.

“And now?”

Nicholas stepped closer. Only one step.

“Now I intend to discover whether there might ever be room for me.”

Her pulse thundered. He could have touched her. He did not.

“Not because I am Rivenhall.”

“I do not care that you are Rivenhall.”

“Caroline — that is rather the point.”

She stared at him. All at once, she understood. The rides. The dinners. The book. The musical evening. The dance. God, the dance.

“You asked me to dance that night because —”

“Because you were about to cry.”

“That is not what I mean.”

Nicholas looked at her. “No,” he said softly. “It is not.”