Broken Boundaries: A Sweet Regency Romance Page 4

  Christine wished that she and Nate could somehow go back to the way they had been just months before. She hated that these feelings, that were so raw and insistent, threatened to ruin their friendship forever. Yet, as she lay down to go to bed that night, she dreamed of walking down the aisle of the village church to meet Nate at the altar. He was smiling, and so were her parents. His parents embraced her warmly, welcoming her to their family. It was such a pleasant vision, and Christine awoke with a smile upon her face.

  But that warm feeling did not last. Reality beckoned, and she could never run fast enough or far enough away to escape it.

  Chapter Five

  It was astonishing, the extent to which a person could take for granted the simple pleasures in his life. It was more astonishing still the ways in which he could convince himself that inaction was an acceptable course for a life to take. It was something Nate would think on often, as his life began to change.

  “Your father wishes to see you in the library,” Mama announced as he rose to leave the breakfast table one morning towards the end of the summer.

  “What am I in trouble for this time?” Nate said flippantly.

  His mother frowned. “You would best go and find out. He has not told me anything about why he has summoned you.”

  Reluctantly, Nate walked across the hallway and rapped on the heavy oak door of the library.

  “Enter,” his father’s deep voice called.

  Taking a deep breath, Nate turned the handle and entered. Relations with his father had been growing increasingly difficult, as Nate’s feelings for Christine had intensified. Nate had almost been avoiding his father, so he did not have to listen to the older man’s lectures about duty and tradition – nor to be told in no uncertain terms that Christine was eminently unsuitable as a wife for a future peer of the realm.

  “Good morning, Father,” he said, moving to stand in front of his father’s great rosewood desk.

  Albert Sheffield, Duke of Goldingshire, was a short and stocky man with a barrel chest. Nate towered over him, but that did not prevent him from being somewhat scared of his father. The man was forceful, determined and stoic. Nate admired him greatly, and he had no desire to ever disappoint him. Yet, he always had the distinct feeling that he could never quite live up to his father’s high hopes for him. His expectations for his son were high, indeed.

  “I have something for you,” his father said, handing Nate a sheaf of papers.

  Nate looked at the top page and frowned. He could hardly believe what he was reading. He flicked through the stack of papers, finding that each one seemed to be confirming the ridiculous idea that he would be leaving for the Napoleonic War Front in less than a fortnight. “You purchased me a commission?” he asked incredulously.

  “I did, Nathaniel. I served for the Crown, and it was the making of me,” his father said. “You shall enter as a captain.”

  “But…” Nate blurted, but he did not know what he wished to say, other than that this was madness. He was not a leader of men, nor was he a fighter. He did not really want to be either. If there was anyone less suited to a life in the army, it was Nate.

  “You need not fret,” his father assured him. “You will not have to do any real fighting. Wellesley assures me that you will become part of the corps that is in charge of coordinating the battle and will be located well behind the actual front lines.”

  “But I know nothing of military tactics,” Nate sputtered. “It is foolish for me to go there expecting to be of service.”

  “You have had as good an education as any man there,” his father said firmly. “A classical education. You have read Vitruvius and Caesar, Homer and Livy. Arthur will be there, and I doubt he’ll be entrusting much to a green captain when he has some of the finest tacticians in the country under his command.”

  “But…” Nate said again. He wanted to appeal to his father’s sensitivities that he could not leave Christine, but he knew the man would not care. In fact, his concerns for the baker’s daughter could cause a wider rift that he could not risk.

  “Nathaniel, if you were about to tell me that you do not want to leave that silly chit in the village, then I can assure you that I do not care one jot about how hard that might be for you.”

  “You know about Christine?” Nate was astounded. He thought he had been so careful.

  “You think I do not know about everything you have ever done?” his father asked, a peculiar expression playing over his fleshy features. “I will not have you drag our name through the mud with a liaison so far below your station. One day you will thank me for preventing such a debacle. I would rather keep you here under my eye, to get you ready for when I am gone, but to put a halt to this nonsense, I am glad to send you away where you will not have time to think more about the worker girl.”

  “You talk as if you think I would abandon the family and wed her without your permission,” Nate said, hardly believing what was happening.

  “Your mother and I are of one accord, Nathaniel. When you return, we’ll arrange a suitable match. You will not even remember your little wench’s name.”

  With that, Nate was dismissed. There was nobody he could appeal to, and he knew he would never openly defy his parents. They were right. He had always known that his time with Christine would have to end as a man in his position would never be permitted to marry for love. But, he had nursed hopes that somehow something might change, that they would see that Christine was worth a hundred of any of the silly accomplished young ladies he had ever met at Court and at Almack’s. He would never get them to see that, though.

  Feeling like a coward, Nate waited until the last possible day to go to Christine at the bakery, almost as if waiting would delay his dreaded departure indefinitely. He did not want to deliver the news and yet he wanted to inform her in person of his coming departure. He already felt dreadful for not having the courage to go and see her earlier, but to leave without telling her was something he could not bring himself to do.

  It was obvious that his feelings were no longer a secret, given that his father had decided to send him to war rather than let him remain at Goldington House. The thought made him uneasy, but there was no remedy for it now. His parents believed that Nate would grow out of his attraction for Christine with some time and distance. He was far less confident that he could ever forget her. Christine had always been his closest friend, his confidant – the one person he knew cared for him exactly as he was. She did not expect anything from him. She made no demands on him. And he loved her.

  It was with a heavy heart that he rapped briskly on the Langdon’s door, clad in his new uniform. It seemed to take an age for anyone to answer the door, and he began to wonder if they were all in the bakery. But he finally heard footsteps clattering down the stairs behind the door, and it was flung open by Mrs Langdon, who looked more than a little flustered.

  “Good day to you Mrs Langdon,” he said, giving her a nervous smile. “I am here to see Christine. I will not take up much of her time, I can assure you.”

  “She’s in the bakery, helping her father,” Mrs Langdon said cautiously. “Am I to assume your call has something to do with that uniform you are wearing?”

  “You may,” he said.

  “You are to leave for the war?”

  He nodded, finding it hard to even say it out loud to Christine’s mother. “Tomorrow.”

  “She’ll be sorry to hear the news. She has grown quite fond of you it seems. Fond enough that her father and I had begun to wonder what was amiss, given all those times she came home flushed and full of silliness. We’d been talking about sending her to my sister in Cheltenham for a while.”

  Her words told Nate, yet again, that his friendship with Christine had not gone as unnoticed as the two of them had believed. They should have known that there were no secrets in a small village like this. Suddenly, every moment they had spent together was changed. Their secret friendship seemed peculiarly sordid. He wondered how many people beli
eved that he had already taken Christine’s innocence. There would be few men of his station that would not have been using a village girl simply to scratch an itch he was not permitted to scratch with the young ladies in Society.

  He hung his head at the realisation that they did not have a secret as he had thought. “You’d have sent her away?” Nate asked. “I can assure you there was nothing between us that would have required such drastic action. We have been nothing but friends. I would never dishonour her, my family, or you in that way.”

  He was not sure if Mrs Langdon believed him. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head just slightly. “Nothing?” Mrs Langdon answered quickly, waving her hand and turning away. Her face was red from her chin to the roots of her hair. “I should learn to mind my tongue, but if you think there is anyone in the village who would believe that, then you are a bigger fool than any I have ever known.”

  “I hope that if you cannot believe it of me, that you would at least have faith in the good morals of your daughter,” Nate said, choosing not to take offense at her words. She was concerned for her daughter, and it was to her credit.

  With a little huff, and a shrug of her shoulders Mrs Langdon searched his face, trying to ascertain if he was truly telling her the truth. She must have decided that he was, because her face softened, and she relented. “I will fetch her for you. I will not be a minute.”

  It was hard to just stand there and watch as Mrs Langdon scurried off through the door to the bakery at the end of the hallway, muttering things under her breath that might have made a grown man blush. Nate was left standing on the doorstep wondering how Christine would react to his news, wishing that he could have found the words to assure Mrs Langdon that his intentions were honorable, praying that Christine would understand.

  Nate and Christine walked to the river. It seemed the only place for such a serious conversation. Neither spoke a word, but they both stole surreptitious looks at one another every few steps. When their eyes accidentally met, Christine would blush prettily, and bite at her lip. Nate wished he did not have to leave her behind.

  As they reached the bank, he could stay silent no longer. “Father has purchased a commission.”

  “I can see,” Christine said, looking him up and down. “The uniform suits you.”

  “I leave tomorrow.”

  “Nate, I will not lie, I am going to miss you terribly.”

  “And I you,” he said a little stiffly.

  She sat down on a nearby fallen tree trunk. “Must you really leave, and so soon? Why would your father do this? I thought you were next in line to become the Duke of Goldingshire. What happens if you are injured or worse in the war?” Christine’s voice was high-pitched and she spoke rapidly, barely taking a breath.

  “I suppose he thinks it will be good for me,” Nate said, shrugging. “Something about building character and all of that sort of drivel.”

  “Things happen that no one expects in war, though, do they not?” Christine replied, almost angry now. Nate had seen her this way before, delivering questions as if they were defensive fire. It was the only way she knew to handle her fears.

  He sat silently, letting her questions wash over him as would the water below them on warmer days. If he could have, he would have done anything to assuage her of the torrent of anxieties she was pouring out. Her imaginings were getting more lurid and more catastrophic with each passing moment. He was ashamed to say that he was secretly glad of her appalled reaction to his news. It meant she loved him as he loved her.

  If there was anything he could do to reject his new appointment and remain by her side, he would do it. He would have gladly banished the whispers of the tarnishing of his reputation – though he could not bear the thought that they would ruin hers. After speaking with Mrs Langdon, Nate now reluctantly agreed with the decision his father had made for him if it meant that he was not responsible for tarnishing her character – and it seemed that their friendship was doing just that. He wanted to protect Christine from all of the world’s ills if he could.

  He sat, letting her express every thought and feeling she needed to, feeling his dreams for a happy life slowly slip away. He had no answers for her, and no solution to their imminent parting. But he knew that when he did return that neither of them would feel any differently than they did now. A connection like theirs could not be broken by miles and time. She would be waiting for him, whether he wished her to or not and his heart would belong to her until the day he died.

  Chapter Six

  The days dragged by and time seemed endless. With Nate away serving with Wellesley in Portugal, Christine threw herself into her work in the bakery. Little changed, and the days became weeks; the weeks ebbed into months, and soon more than a year had passed since she had last seen her friend.

  Christine tried so hard to fill every moment with activity, noise and busyness to keep her mind occupied with anything other than her desires, and her fears for Nate. She held firmly to the hope that absence would allow her heart to detach from Nate, and that she would find somebody more suitable to her role in life.

  As the time continued to trudge on, however, Christine found that she still thought about him every day, especially when she lay down to sleep in the dark silence of the night. She remembered, with a longing so intense it took her breath away, their long discussions about the river, the butterflies, the birds. Talks that had nothing to do with duties, or with anything much at all, for that matter. Those had been the best days of her life, sitting beside Nathaniel and speaking of nothing at all. It was a time when Christine and Nathaniel could escape their everyday lives and to just be a boy and a girl – their positions in society had mattered not at all. She had never thought of those times as romantic but, as she unwillingly looked back, she realised that every day she had fallen just a little bit more in love with the handsome and charismatic young lord.

  Christine was not sure how she knew, but she was certain that Nathaniel loved her, too, even if he had not been brave enough to say the words. Or possibly he had been smart enough to keep his feelings to himself.

  And though he did not write, and there seemed to be no gossip in the village about him, either, she prayed each night he was safe and that he would return home. That when he did return, he would be able to confess his love. She was prepared to bear every gossip’s hateful words if only she got to spend one more day with him. She knew she would willingly accept exile from her family and the only home she had ever known if it meant she could be with him.

  Alone in the apartment above the bakery, Christine swept the few rooms thoroughly. She was about to fetch a cloth and beeswax from the cupboard to polish the dresser and the table when there was a loud banging at the door. With a heavy sigh, she pushed the straying lock of hair back off her face and, wiping her hands upon her apron, she hurried down the stairs to open the door.

  A tall young man, in a dark navy suit stood with his back to the door. Christine felt her stomach lurch for some unknowable reason. He turned. His face was sombre. “Madam,” he said, taking off his bowler hat and giving a polite bob of the head. “This is the residence of Mr and Mrs Langdon?”

  “It is. I am their daughter, Christine Langdon,” she said, her voice wavering a little, wondering what such a polite and proper person should be doing on her doorstep, his eyes all filled with pity.

  “Might I come in, madam?” he asked.

  She looked up and down the alleyway. It would not be right to admit a gentleman into the apartment whilst she was alone, but she had the strangest feeling that what this young man had to say was not something she wished to learn about in public. Making a quick decision, she nodded. “Come in,” she said, and stood back so he could move past her and up the stairs.

  “Might I fetch you some tea?” she asked nervously, as he hovered by the table in the parlour.

  “No, I…” he tailed off, then pulled back his shoulders and stood up straight and tall. “Miss Langdon, I am dreadfully sorry to be the bearer
of such tidings, but I am here to tell you that your father and mother are deceased.”

  The formality of his tone did not make the news any easier to bear. The news was so visceral, so unexpected and so dreadful that Christine could hardly believe that any of it was happening to her. “Mother? Father? Dead?” Christine said, nonsensically.

  “I am so very sorry, but yes,” the young man said. “Their cart was run off the road by a couple of foolish boys in a phaeton this morning.”

  Christine felt all the strength and stability in her body desert her. She collapsed onto her knees, her body wracked with heaving sobs. It could not be true. Mother and Father had been here, just a few hours ago – excited about delivering the order to Goldington House, and seeing the place made ready for the grand ball.

  “It seems their horses spooked, at the pace the boys were driving,” the man was saying, though it seemed to be echoing around her head as if he was a long way away. “They hit a rut in the road, and the cart turned. Your mother was thrown from the vehicle. She struck her head on a boulder and it is likely she was killed instantly.”

  Christine wondered if he thought that all that information was helping. She was not sure she needed to know these details, yet she did not seem to be able to speak to beg him to stop.

  “Your father, he got caught under the axle. I am sure neither of them would have suffered. It would all have been over too fast for that,” the man assured her. “I can send the undertaker to you if you wish?”

  The sound of her sister’s footsteps on the stair made Christine jump to her feet and pull herself together. She would have time to mourn later. For now, she would have to do all she could to ensure that her sisters were well. “Thank you,” she said to the young man. “That would be most kind. If you could see yourself out, I am sure you understand.”

  He nodded and waited for the girls to reach the top of the stairs before he bowed and made his way down them. Christine looked at her sisters and wondered how on Earth she could ever tell them that their whole world had now changed and that nothing would ever be the same again. She was not sure she could do it. But there was one thing she was sure of. Her sisters did not ever need to know the details of their parents’ accident.