having to.
Odd. He could let others believe what they willed, and he could even play the part—but somehow he had managed never to openly admit to it.
Really, he could have used the practice, for telling Willa was going to be hard enough.
Nathaniel took a deep breath and said the words out loud for the very first time. "I plotted against the Crown. I joined a group known as the Knights of the Lily, named for Napoleon's fleur-de-lis, and plotted to have the Prince Regent dethroned."
She stared at him for a long moment; then she covered her face with her hands. She began to shake. Damn, she was crying.
Then she snorted. And snickered out loud.
"Oh dear. Really, Nathaniel, I'm loath to shatter your dreams, but your career on the stage will be deathly short."
He could only stare at her, mouth open. It only made her laugh the harder.
She put one finger beneath his chin and closed it for him. Then she leaned her elbows on her knees and dangled her hands before her. "I told you once before. I am an excellent judge of character. You, Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Reardon, could no more betray your country than a cobra could fly. It simply isn't in you."
Nathaniel couldn't believe it. Everyone he knew—at least, those who didn't already know the truth—had assumed the worst about him and had rejected him.
He could not deny the warmth that began to spread through some place in him that had been cold. However, Willa wasn't seeing the entire matter clearly. It was easy to disbelieve such a thing here in the country, with only the two of them about. She must be prepared for what the world would have to say about it.
"You must know what to expect. There will be unpleasantness at every turn. People have very strong feelings about traitors. The finer the person, usually, the worse the rejection. No one will talk to you. Merchants will be loath to take your money. Even your own servants will be grudging, despite that you pay them twice what their equals receive in other houses."
She'd gone quite sober as he spoke. Good. She must understand what was before her.
"There is no place where you'll be welcomed. No home, no shop, no tearoom will want you there. The reason why I could not tell you before was that I feared you would not come with me, and that you would choose to be ruined forever rather than wed me."
"Oh, Nathaniel," she breathed. "How awful it has been for you."
He blinked. "No, no, you are not listening, Willa. I told you all this because you must understand how it will be for
you
."
He gazed at her with intensity, willing her to understand. "I'm sorry that circumstances force you to wed me, Willa. Nevertheless, one day the war will be over and my reputation may fade"—although he thought it unlikely— "but you would be disgraced forever if you did not marry me. If you wed me and then leave me, openly, you will more likely be forgiven for the mistake of not marrying well than for not marrying at all."
She gazed at him, her eyes damp. "Have you been terribly lonely, Nathaniel?"
He shook his head. He wasn't getting through to her. "Do you understand what you will be facing as my wife? I believe you will be better off in Derryton once we are wed."
Now she shook her head, as if finally awakening. "Oh. I am beginning to see. You married me, or will marry me, are taking me to London, have never touched me—well, but not really—because you thought that once I heard this silly story I would want to leave you." She sat back, shaking her head over the idea.
Nathaniel caught her hand. "Whether or not you believe in my innocence, there is a very large world out there which most emphatically does
not
. We must wed, for your sake. Then you must leave, also for your sake. You will be taking on a tarnished name. That name will do much less damage in Derryton, where you are loved." Even Reardon, filled with people who were supposed to be his own, would not welcome her.
She'd watched him throughout this speech with fascination
Odd. He could let others believe what they willed, and he could even play the part—but somehow he had managed never to openly admit to it.
Really, he could have used the practice, for telling Willa was going to be hard enough.
Nathaniel took a deep breath and said the words out loud for the very first time. "I plotted against the Crown. I joined a group known as the Knights of the Lily, named for Napoleon's fleur-de-lis, and plotted to have the Prince Regent dethroned."
She stared at him for a long moment; then she covered her face with her hands. She began to shake. Damn, she was crying.
Then she snorted. And snickered out loud.
"Oh dear. Really, Nathaniel, I'm loath to shatter your dreams, but your career on the stage will be deathly short."
He could only stare at her, mouth open. It only made her laugh the harder.
She put one finger beneath his chin and closed it for him. Then she leaned her elbows on her knees and dangled her hands before her. "I told you once before. I am an excellent judge of character. You, Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Reardon, could no more betray your country than a cobra could fly. It simply isn't in you."
Nathaniel couldn't believe it. Everyone he knew—at least, those who didn't already know the truth—had assumed the worst about him and had rejected him.
He could not deny the warmth that began to spread through some place in him that had been cold. However, Willa wasn't seeing the entire matter clearly. It was easy to disbelieve such a thing here in the country, with only the two of them about. She must be prepared for what the world would have to say about it.
"You must know what to expect. There will be unpleasantness at every turn. People have very strong feelings about traitors. The finer the person, usually, the worse the rejection. No one will talk to you. Merchants will be loath to take your money. Even your own servants will be grudging, despite that you pay them twice what their equals receive in other houses."
She'd gone quite sober as he spoke. Good. She must understand what was before her.
"There is no place where you'll be welcomed. No home, no shop, no tearoom will want you there. The reason why I could not tell you before was that I feared you would not come with me, and that you would choose to be ruined forever rather than wed me."
"Oh, Nathaniel," she breathed. "How awful it has been for you."
He blinked. "No, no, you are not listening, Willa. I told you all this because you must understand how it will be for
you
."
He gazed at her with intensity, willing her to understand. "I'm sorry that circumstances force you to wed me, Willa. Nevertheless, one day the war will be over and my reputation may fade"—although he thought it unlikely— "but you would be disgraced forever if you did not marry me. If you wed me and then leave me, openly, you will more likely be forgiven for the mistake of not marrying well than for not marrying at all."
She gazed at him, her eyes damp. "Have you been terribly lonely, Nathaniel?"
He shook his head. He wasn't getting through to her. "Do you understand what you will be facing as my wife? I believe you will be better off in Derryton once we are wed."
Now she shook her head, as if finally awakening. "Oh. I am beginning to see. You married me, or will marry me, are taking me to London, have never touched me—well, but not really—because you thought that once I heard this silly story I would want to leave you." She sat back, shaking her head over the idea.
Nathaniel caught her hand. "Whether or not you believe in my innocence, there is a very large world out there which most emphatically does
not
. We must wed, for your sake. Then you must leave, also for your sake. You will be taking on a tarnished name. That name will do much less damage in Derryton, where you are loved." Even Reardon, filled with people who were supposed to be his own, would not welcome her.
She'd watched him throughout this speech with fascination
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