How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,19
whipped around. Never had he liked the loose morals that often went hand in hand with hidden identities. He’d had enough of lies and deceit to last him a lifetime.
“On your brother’s orders, I swear,” Lord Markham rushed to add, holding up his hands in appeasement.
Nathanial gritted his teeth. “I appreciate your efforts. However—”
“Why?” Lord Markham interrupted him, his dark eyes watchful.
Nathanial frowned. “Why what?”
“Why did you come to England?”
The pressure on his teeth increased, and Nathanial leaned back in his seat, trying his best to relax as Lord Markham’s question forced him to dredge up the past yet again. “I came to see my brother, to meet his wife, to wish them well.” With each word to pass his lips, Nathanial felt his jaw begin to ache a little more.
Lord Markham sighed. “Pembroke told me what happened.”
The words felt like a slap in the face. “He shouldn’t have,” Nathanial forced out through gritted teeth. Then he held out the mask to Lord Markham, who shook his head, refusing to take it.
“He’s a good friend, and he worries about you.”
“I know.”
“He asked me to help,” Lord Markham continued, “because he feared seeing him with his wife would only cause you distress.” Empathy rested in the man’s eyes as he spoke.
Unfortunately, his words brought forth an image of Zach and Becca, deliriously happy. Instantly, that ball of frustration and bitterness ignited in Nathanial’s stomach. “He’s right,” he muttered then, brushing a hand over his face as though hoping to wipe away the memory that kept taunting him. “I should return home,” he mumbled, then met Lord Markham’s gaze. “I apologize for—”
“There is no need. I understand the pain you must be going through and—”
“Do you?” Nathanial snapped the same way he had snapped at Miss Palmer a week ago. It seemed whenever he was lost in that abyss of bitterness and self-pity, he was not fit to be around people.
Like Miss Palmer, Lord Markham took no offense. “Perhaps I do not,” he admitted. “However, I do understand the fear of rejection.”
Looking at the man, Nathanial remembered the way he had watched Miss Hawkins at the wedding celebration. “I do hope she accepts you,” he told him then, and before he could stop himself, added, “and that she means it when she does.”
Lord Markham paused, no doubt having taken note of the bitterness in Nathanial’s voice. “How long has it been?”
“Almost two years.” It seemed longer. Infinitely longer.
“Has she married another?”
“No.” In an odd way, her not marrying that Lord Mortimer made things even worse for it seemed that all the pain he had endured had been for nothing. Not even Abigail had found happiness. She had betrayed him for nothing, and now they were both miserable.
“Do you want her back?” Lord Markham then asked into the stillness.
Nathanial flinched; he could not prevent it. The thought shook his body as it shook his soul. To his great shame, he could not deny that a part of him still longed for Abigail, for the life they had together, for the life they were to have together. He had always wanted a loving wife, children to dote upon, a home, a family of his own.
Now, all that was gone. And now, Nathanial doubted that he would ever receive a second chance.
“Then you need to let her go,” Lord Markham said gently.
Nathanial closed his eyes. “How?” He had been trying to rid himself of these emotions, of his longing for her, of this bitterness she had forced upon him.
But to no avail.
Perhaps he was simply not strong enough to fight his way out of this. Not alone. Quite frankly, you look in desperate need of a friend. Nathanial wondered why his mind conjured Miss Palmer’s voice in that moment for he had not laid eyes on her since his brother’s wedding celebration. If she had truly meant to be his friend, would she not have…?
No, the thought was ludicrous. Of course, she had not meant what she had said. Women said many things and then later barely remembered them.
“One step at a time,” Lord Markham counseled as he settled his own mask onto his face. “One step at a time.”
Nathanial inhaled a slow breath as his gaze dropped to the mask in his hands. Would it be so bad to leave behind his life for a single night? To forget the past and simply live in the moment? To free himself of this constant gloom? Was it cowardly? Or was it simply human?