Page 52 of To Steal a Kiss

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Bonnie Campbell to Miss Harriet Stanhope.

The 27h June Enroute to Kensington Gardens. 1814.

“Do stop tugging at your cravat, Nate, dear,” Matilda said with a sigh. “It was perfect when we left, but you will spoil it if you keep on.”

Nate sighed and returned his attention to his horses as the curricle bowled along at a brisk pace. He didn’t know what had gotten into him of late, or at least he knew full well, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

“Are you actually nervous?” his sister said, sitting forward to better look at him.

He could hear the amusement in her voice, but found nothing the least bit funny in the situation.

“Yes, damn it,” he said. “And there’s no use in telling me I’m acting like a lovesick schoolboy; I know I am. I… I can’t seem to stop.”

He expected to hear a burst of laughter at the admission but, when it didn’t come, he turned his head to find Matilda staring at him with sparkling eyes. She reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

“Oh, Nate, I’m so happy. Alice is such a sweet girl. I know she’ll make you happy.”

He let out a breath and laughed. “If she’ll have me,” he said, trying to sound offhand, but the anxiety in his voice was audible enough.

“She’s not accepted you yet?”

Nate shook his head and swallowed down the lump which seemed to have settled in his throat the night he’d been discovered with Alice. He knew there would be no getting rid of it until she’d agreed to marry him.

“No,” he admitted. “And I feel like I’m going mad. Matilda, what the devil is wrong with me? I can’t sleep, I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m not a green boy, for all I’m acting the part. I’ve had affairs, too many to count. Why is this so… so intense?”

“Because it’s what you’ve always wanted, Nate,” Matilda said, her voice soft. “Before Papa ruined everything, I always knew you weren’t the sort to carry on and hold on to your freedom until you were forced to marry. You wanted a home, a family, security. You never made a secret of it, but then Papa stole that future away and you had to become Nathaniel Hunt, proprietor of the most exclusive gaming club in the city. I watched you change, outwardly at least, but I knew it wasn’t really you.”

Matilda watched him in silence for a moment, but Nate’s throat was too tight to speak.

“Do you ever think of Glebe House?” she asked.

Nate swallowed. Before their father had gambled their future away, they’d had several properties, including a snug little house in Kent. It had been promised to him when he married, and Nate had dreamed and planned of all the things he would do, the improvements he would make. How strange that he’d not thought of that in so long.

“No. Not for years,” he admitted.

“Why not?” she asked.

He drew in a breath. “Do you ever think about marrying that dashing Lord Dawlish, who you spend weeks mooning over, or about having a family and children?”

“No,” she said, turning away from him.

“Then you understand,” he said, his voice hard. “Those dreams were lost to us, and to think on them only brought misery. I let them go, Tilda.”

Matilda took a deep breath and turned back to him. “But your dreams are not lost, Nate. I think Alice loves you, or at least she’s halfway to being in love with you. Don’t let her go. Hold tight to your dreams this time.”

Nate reached out and took his sister’s hand, giving her fingers a brief squeeze. “I won’t, though it pains me to know that her parents will likely disown her.”

“What, and risk never being a member of Hunter’s?” she said with a smirk. “Oh, I think you may have some power there, Nate. Over her father at least.”

“I’m not so sure.” Nate paused to negotiate a tight corner and weave around a hackney carriage on a narrow stretch of road. The horses’ hooves clattered smartly over the cobbles, the tack jingling as the shiny metal fastenings glinted in the afternoon sun. “They would marry their only daughter to a vile piece of work like Bindley just to get close to an earldom. Marrying such a scandalous character as myself will be a deep disappointment to them.”

“Stuff,” Matilda said with clear annoyance. “Our mother was the daughter of viscount, and father’s great-uncle was an earl. We’re not badly bred, for all our apparent shame, and don’t you forget it. Mr and Mrs Dowding are wealthy but not much better than gentry. There’s not a noble drop of blood in their veins. They’re on the fringes of the ton and well they know it. They should consider themselves privileged to have you as a son-in-law.”

Nate turned to smile at his sister, touched and a little surprised by her defence of his character.

“Thank you, Tilda,” he said quietly. “And don’t think I have forgotten your dreams either. We shall make them come true. Once I’m married, I will be better placed, with Alice’s help. With your beauty and dowry, we’ll find an eligible man for you.”

Tilda snorted at that. “That’s sweet, Nate, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but we’ve seen the kind of men that generous dowry attracts. Honestly, I don’t care a straw about catching a title or finding a wealthy man, or even a handsome one. I don’t care if he’s nobility or gentry, or a banker or a merchant. I just want a good man, an honest one. I want someone who will be kind. Someone warm and loving and loyal. Is that too much to ask?”