Broken Boundaries: A Sweet Regency Romance Page 7

  “That does indeed sound most welcoming,” Nate agreed. Tonight was not the time for him to say everything he needed to make his parents aware of. All that could wait. As they reached the bottom of the grand staircase that dominated the hallway, he leaned down and kissed his mother on her forehead. “A hot bath is just what I need.

  “I will have brandy and port sent to the library when you are done, my boy,” his father said, giving him a proud nod.

  While Nate soaked in the tub, his valet unpacked his things. Nate dressed in cream breeches and a fine smoking jacket before he made his way down the stairs to join his father in the library. Downstairs, his father sat in his chair by the fire, a decanter and two glasses on the table by his side.

  He beamed at his son and poured him a generous measure of the fine cognac. “To you my boy, and the future of the duchy.”

  Nate had so many things that he wished to say. And in many ways, now was the time to do it, yet he could not bring himself to break his father’s heart. Nate wanted Christine with all his heart, but he also now wanted to be able to make changes to the lives of the people that Society said were below him. He had learned so much whilst he was away, and he knew it would take time to make his father see that such changes could only be for the better of everyone.

  “To Goldingshire,” Nate echoed, wondering if his father would be quite so happy about it if he knew everything Nate would change once he had the power to do so.

  The two men drank in companionable silence. Nate felt the closest to his father that he had ever been – despite neither one of them uttering a word. Nate sensed that both of them were holding on to their secrets and did not want to mar the homecoming by bringing the brash truth of reality in to intrude upon their quiet time together.

  An hour or so passed before Nate felt too tired to keep his eyes open. A glance at his father told him that the duke was also utterly fagged. “I do hope you will excuse me, Papa,” Nate said, deciding to make it easier on his father. No man wished to admit to weakness, and his father was as proud as they came. “The long journey has me aching for my bed.”

  “But, of course,” his father replied, edging to the front of his chair and standing up a little more slowly than Nate remembered him doing. “You have been through so much. We can spend time together tomorrow. Your mother has already invited half the county to supper tomorrow to welcome you home!”

  Nate tried to look pleased at the thought, but his only thoughts were of his reunion with Christine. His memories of their days at the river, the days they had chased each other through the maze of wild trees had been all that had kept him going. He remembered the long rambling walks down the paths of Chatsworth and he had missed Christine more than he had thought possible. Even now, despite his bone-weariness, he was overcome by the desire to go to her. He had to see her. But it would have to wait until the morning, at least.

  The next morning, Nate had his horse, Albion, saddled and made his way into the village along the well-worn and much-loved trails he had traversed so many times in his youth. The day was grey and Nate was sure the clouds would let loose with rain at some point in the dismal morning. Butterflies built in his belly, making him feel almost queasy as he approached the High Street, wondering how Christine would react to his unannounced re-appearance in her life.

  He had not received any letters from Christine while he was at the war front, and although he had sent few himself, Nathaniel was disappointed that she had seemed to so easily forget him. He had not offered for her before he left – how could he? Nor had he spoken up and told her how he felt. He had not wanted her to feel she had to wait for such an empty future – or to lie awake each night fearing he may never return at all.

  But what of her now? Was she still working for her parents at the bakery or had she found a husband? Was she a mother with a child clinging to her skirts? Most importantly of all, was she happy? They were questions that would surely drive him mad if he could not discover their answers, and with that in mind, he turned his horse towards the bakery.

  The shops lining the street were familiar. The butcher, the jeweller, the livery, the blacksmith, the general store, the milliner, the church. Everything seemed exactly as he had left it. Looking upon them, he was filled with the certainty that the village would never really change, no matter how much time passed. He found a certain kind of poetry in the idea and an unexpected lump of nostalgia and hope rose in his throat.

  The smell of fresh bread and hot sugar reached Nate’s nostrils long before he reached the Langdon bakery itself. Nate dismounted outside and hitched Albion to a post. He walked in through the open door and marvelled at the vivid display of brightly coloured pastries and tarts, and the baskets and baskets of bread and rolls that lined the walls. Daisy and Rose were busy behind the counter – at least he thought they were the ones he remembered. He had not seen the girls in several years, and they had grown into beautiful young ladies.

  When the queue had thinned, and it was his turn to step up to the counter, Nate coughed quietly to clear his throat. He felt dreadfully self-aware, and utterly ill-at-ease. Daisy smiled at him. “Well I never,” she exclaimed, bobbing an awkward curtsey in the cramped space. “Whatever are you doing here in the bakery, Lord Sheffield?”

  “I will take a Bath bun, Miss Daisy – it is Miss Daisy, is it not? You have both grown so.”

  She grinned at him. “Aye, I am Daisy. That’s Rose and Emmaline and Christine are out in the back.”

  “So, your parents have all of you working here now?” Nate asked, not knowing what such a question would unleash.

  Dasiy’s eyes misted with tears. “My parents?” she repeated, clearly taken aback, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “Why, yes,” he replied hesitantly. “I knew a little of them before I went off to war.”

  “Well, then you must not have heard. My parents are no longer in this world, sir. They perished in a carriage accident almost two years ago, now.”

  Nate had never felt so rotten in his life. How could he not know such a thing? Why would his parents have kept even this from him? They had written, infrequently of course, and had seemed to keep him abreast of news. But to have willingly not told him of the Langdon’s passing seemed brutally cruel.

  “I am so terribly sorry for your loss,” he said hastily, trying to recover some semblance of composure. “Please accept my most heartfelt condolences.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nathaniel was utterly thrown by the news and had to fight the urge to leave and never return. How foolish he had been to think that everything had remained the same, to allow himself to be lulled into that opinion merely because the buildings still stood. How stupid could he be to think to be so selfish as to assume that the only person who had been hurt by, or during his absence had been himself. To think that at the time Christine had needed a friend most, he had not been there for her.

  “Christine is in charge now, though we all own the bakery equally and do all the work together,” Rose said, moving to join them and to explain further as Daisy now had tears pouring down her cheeks. “She is here every day starting bread before the sun comes up. Emmaline helps her with the baking, they’re much better at it than Daisy and I.”

  “And the pair of you are responsible for selling it all,” Nate said, trying hard to not appear like the inadequate fool he felt. The two girls nodded. “Is Christine well?” As ridiculous as the question felt, he could not bring himself to say more. He could not bear to have all of his hopes dashed before ever laying eyes on his old friend – even if all he was able to do was to reassure himself that she was well and happy.

  “Aye, she’s well enough,” Rose said, as Daisy disappeared into the back of the bakery. Nathaniel stood as still as a statue, terrified of what might come next.

  It seemed as though time stood still as they stood there, waiting. Then Christine appeared, her face dusted with flour, her hair in disarray and her smile as wide as the Dart. “Nate,” she cried. “Oh, m
y apologies, Lord Sheffield,” she corrected herself. “Nobody said you would be returning from the war so soon. I am so glad you are safe and well.” She fidgeted with her apron, as though she did not know what to do with her hands, and she ducked her head down so he could not read her expression.

  “I am quite well. Oh, dear Miss Langdon, I am so sorry to hear of the tragedy that has befallen your family. Though it seems that the bakery is thriving.” Nate could hear the nonsense he was speaking but could not stop himself from offering such platitudes. She deserved so much more from him. But, her sisters were watching them with beady eyes, and if Christine did have a beau, he did not wish to make things difficult for her. Where once he had felt that he understood everything about this woman, now he felt clumsy and entirely lacking. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for making her sad.

  “Lord Sheffield, did you want to try one of our new pastries, or perhaps an old favourite to welcome you home? I have just taken the Bath buns from the oven, I know you used to love them.”

  “I could smell them on the road. Yes, a taste of home would be delightful.” He tried to give her a look, one he prayed she would be able to read, as he put all his love and his heart into it.

  She blushed and disappeared into the rear room. Nate stood, hopping from one foot to another as he and her sisters waited for her to return. When she did, she had wiped her face and pinned her hair. She handed him the bun and stood clasping her hands behind her back with an expectant look on her face as she waited for him to take a bite. Nate bit into her offering and felt the warmth of the spiced fruit and the softness of the fluffy dough and knew he had come home. With each successive bite, Nate felt more like himself, feeling a little more of the carefree lad creep back inside his heart, but he knew he would never forget the lessons he had learned.

  Licking his lips, he looked up at Christine. “Thank you, that was delicious. I cannot tell you how glad I am to be home and amongst friends once more.”

  “Your friends are glad to have you back,” Christine said with feeling. Nate felt his heart lurch with hope, but he smothered it swiftly.

  He made his goodbyes, unable to ask Christine to join him for a walk. He did not wish to cause her any trouble and he did not doubt that her sisters would be curious enough without his fuelling the flames. Reluctantly he left the bakery and began to unhitch Albion.

  He was about to mount when he was surprised by a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He turned to see Christine, standing so close to him that he could easily lean down and kiss her berry-red lips. “Oh, Christine,” he sighed.

  “I know the weather is a little inclement, but would you like to take a walk?” she asked, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I have not taken an afternoon off since you left to go to war. I feel that some time off is owed to me, do you agree?”

  “Your young man will not mind if I steal his girl away for a nostalgic walk?” Nate asked, trying to keep his tone light.

  Christine smiled softly. “There’s no young man, though Mr John Greenwood has been most attentive of late.”

  Nate felt a surge of envy rise up inside him. He hated the thought of Christine being with anyone but him, though he was not surprised to learn that at least one man in the village had the sense to seek Christine’s favour. Had he come back in time though? Or would Christine, ever pragmatic, see the sense in choosing the jeweller’s son? Nate prayed that a little bit of his reckless young friend still lurked in Christine’s heart, otherwise he might lose her forever.

  They walked slowly enjoying the cool wind kissing their cheeks, even though there was definite dampness to the air. Some of Christine’s hair had escaped her bun once more and blew around her face in the wind.

  “You really are most beautiful, Christine,” he said quietly, almost with reverence. “Even when you are covered in flour and your hair is dishevelled. I admire your dedication to your bakery. You have done well taking care of your sisters and the shop as well. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for you.”

  “What else could I do? Your father certainly did not wish to help us. I think he secretly wanted me to fall on my face and end up in the poor house in Exeter. I believe he would have been glad to see the back of all of us.”

  “He did not help? What are you saying?” Nate asked, stunned at such a thing. His father had always prided himself on the assistance he gave to the tenants on his lands. That he could be so spiteful to a girl who had lost her parents, to punish her for Nate’s failings seemed out of character. But, it made Nate ever more determined to blaze his own path and to choose his own bride.

  "Let us sit and put our feet into the cool water,” he said. There was so much he wanted to say to Christine, and he had no idea where to start or how she would react to his words. Her news about his father’s callous disregard of them after the death of their parents just made it even harder.

  “Christine?” Nathaniel’s voice was quiet and low. “I have something critical to talk to you about. I do not know how to say this, so I am just going to ask.”

  “What is it?” she asked, sitting up straighter and with worry on her face. “Please do not tell me that you have to return to the war?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he assured her. “Christine, I have known you for many years. Over those years we have developed more than a deep relationship. I missed you terribly whilst I was away, could not keep you from my mind. In truth thinking of you was all that kept me going.”

  “I am so glad to have been of use to you. I wrote every week. I knew you might not get the letters, and that you would not have time to write back, but I wanted you to know that I was thinking of you, praying for you,” she said, tucking her arm into his.

  “You wrote to me?” he queried, surprised to hear such a lie from her. Then realised that it was not a lie at all. Christine did not deal in falsehoods. She had no reason to tell him anything but the truth.

  “Well, of course, I did. I must confess, that after Mother and Father died, I only wrote once a month. I was so busy with the bakery and trying to take care of the girls, but of course I wrote. Did you not get any of my letters?”

  “No, not a one,” Nate said, a little angrily. “Well that is another grudge to confront my parents with. So many missing letters could only have been done on purpose and at their behest.”

  “Have I said something to upset you?” Christine asked, sensing just how tense his body had become, and how fierce his expression had become. “I am sorry, I do not wish to cause you any trouble. I am just so happy to see you once more. I had begun to think I never would.”

  “Oh, darling Christine,” Nate said, his eyes softening as he gazed down at her. “Oh I learnt so much whilst I was away. And the thing that was most important was one simple truth. Christine, I want to marry someone I love.”

  “I am not sure that I understand why you would speak to me about this,” she said hesitantly, although some deep part of her felt she did. She hoped that she did, anyway, and at a time like this perhaps hope was enough.

  “Well, my darling girl, then understand this. Though I had hoped that I would do this so much better than I am doing now, I need you to know that I love you. I love you more than I would ever have thought possible and have done so for longer than I dare admit. I wish only to be by your side. I wish to be your husband, Christine. That is, if you will have me.”

  Christine stared at him. Surely he was teasing her. If he was, she did not think much to the joke. They had always known that he was not free to wed where he chose, that his family would choose a suitable bride to bring fortune and lands to the duchy. Christine would never be accepted by anyone in his family, or in his circle and they both knew that.

  “Nathaniel,” she replied breathlessly, hardly daring to believe her own ears and desperate to hold onto her wits, “I am sure many young women would be happy to marry you, women who are not so far beneath you.”

  “Christine, please,” he begged.

  “No, Nathaniel. Let me say wh
at is in my heart. You can assure any woman a secure future with your position and wealth. She would live a life of luxury. I have seen the carriages arriving through town on the way to the great house. Fancy carriages with beautiful horses and liveried footmen. I am sure these are daughters of some of the richest men in the country. I am certain you are watched by many anxious mothers as well.” She smiled weakly as if she had made a silly joke. Then she sobered as he responded.

  “I do not deny what you say, but I care nothing for the life you have described. Those young ladies know about parties and the duties of running a household, there is no denying that fact. It is also the only thing they seem to want to talk about. They probably know of little else. I prefer a lady has interests other than the weather or dresses or servants. I like the way you think. We can talk about most anything. You are curious and want to learn. You are interesting.”

  Christine was quite taken aback by that statement. Nathaniel liked the way she thought? He loved her mind and her curiosity? What kind of man liked that in a woman? Did a duke not want a duchess who would bear him children and run his household? Plan parties, luncheons, charities, and more?

  She stopped her heart from fluttering about what he had just said. Even if she did know how to do such things, a marriage for them was still impossible. She knew how to run a bakery, and to live in a tiny apartment above it. She had a well-worn gown for Sunday best and a work dress for the rest of the week.

  She was not right for him. Even though her romantic heart begged her to say yes, her pragmatic brain knew she could not.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Nate, I do not know what I should say,” Christine said cautiously. “I do care about you a great deal. We have been friends for many years and I cherish your friendship.”