Page 72 of The Truth Serum
Well, that was something. “So now what?”
Nate sighed. It was a sound that filled the carriage despite the noise of the wheels on cobblestone.
“Now,” he said, his attention on Rebecca, “I need you to pretend interest in the baron’s suit.”
Good Lord. The man had lost his mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nate watched revulsionhit Becca. She did not like the idea of making nice with the baron and he was thrilled that she had such a distaste of the man. But mostly he felt guilt. He did not want her within a thousand yards of the baron, but there was no better way to keep the man occupied than with her.
With her in public, at a ball, where she would be safe.
He’d had to face difficult choices before. Most of his career had been relatively safe for the others around him. He was ferrying messages between Lord Benedict and the Foreign Office. Potentially dangerous for him, not so bad for others.
But there had been times when he’d had to beg for someone to hide him, for a farmer to carry him in his cart, for a soldier to trust him with the truth. That put others in as much danger as him. Sometimes more.
So asking Rebecca to make nice with the man for the evening had been hard, but it was for the war effort and for England. In the grand scheme of things, his request was a small thing. She wasn’t risking her life. All she’d lose was a little bit of time.
And yet the request cut at him. Especially since she seemed none too pleased with the idea.
Fortunately, Ras was there to ease the tense silence. “I think we’d best discuss this in private. Once we’re at my home.”
Nate didn’t argue, though his friend was naive to think any place was more private than a moving carriage. Especially if one spoke quietly. But he wanted to be home. He wanted his shoesoff. And he wanted to hold Becca’s hand as he explained what he had kept so hidden for so long.
She might not accept his touch, but he wanted it nonetheless.
“At home then,” he agreed.
Kynthea nodded. “Perhaps Lady Rebecca and I should send messages to our homes. We are spending the night together, two girls getting to know one another.” She smiled as she clasped her fiancée’s hand. “Ras has enough bedrooms for us all.”
“And then some,” he grumbled. Then he pulled Kynthea’s hand up for a kiss. “I look forward to the day when you sleep beside me every night.”
Kynthea flushed pink, visible in the dark carriage more by the way she ducked her head than by the color in her cheeks.
Nate looked to Becca, wondering what she thought of such a display. Did she long for such deep affection? Did she fantasize about the day when she could rest beside her husband, waking in his arms every morning?
He did.
And maybe she did, too, given the quiet way she watched the affianced pair. Was there longing in her gaze? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t ask. There was too much silence between them for so intimate a question. And so he sat beside her, wishing he could touch her with more than the press of his leg against hers.
And he waited.
Fairly soon, she would know everything about him. And then, perhaps they would find a new way to relate to one another.
When they arrived at the ducal home, the ladies went immediately to a writing desk to pen missives for home. Ras dismissed the staff—he wanted no one about during their discussion—and then belatedly went to look for some food for them to share.
Nate pulled off his stockings and shoes.
His feet were mostly healed. No more infection, only normal swelling after a long day. The cuts were healed, but he knew the bones were still fragile. Still, it felt good to let his toes stretch open and rest without weight.
He left on his other clothing, not because he wanted to but because it hid the wrapping around his ribs. Besides, it was scandalous enough to appear before ladies in bare feet. He couldn’t go in his shirtsleeves as well.
And then, they all reconvened in the back parlor. Kynthea set out a plate of fruit and cheese. Ras poured the brandy. And Becca sat quietly on the settee, her gaze troubled.
Nate sat beside her. “You needn’t help me,” he said quietly. “I am asking a lot.”
“I won’t help you without a full explanation,” she said tartly. “I will accept nothing less.”
