Emily tossed and turned in bed, kicking at the silk sheets that adorned it.
She could not sleep and had been laying awake in bed for hours. It was certainly well past midnight and she'd heard the grandfather clock at the end of the corridor strike twelve quite a while ago but she still could not find herself able to shut her eyes and fall away.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, she sat up straight and pushed the covers off of her before bringing her knees up and hugging them to her chest. She perched her chin in the dip where her knees met and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking.
The ball had been the night before, and she'd never had more fun at any of the previous ones she'd attended. It had started off horridly, and had only grown more horrid once Lady Havisham had stuck her nose in and tried her best to insult and undermine Emily, but that had ended almost as quickly as it began, thanks to Nate.
Nate.
As much as she tried to deny it, he was the reason she was having such a sleepless night. She couldn't get him out of her mind, and it felt as if each of her thoughts somehow reverted back to him because he'd inadvertently reached in and invaded the depths of her poor mind and wouldn't let go.
He'd defended her at the ball, and she couldn't be more grateful to him for it. Cassie hadn't always been able to do the same for her despite wanting to because of her own status, and she had never had any other friends who would ever do that for her. Having Nate protect her as he did had felt wonderful and, for the first time in England, she'd felt secure in herself.
Not once before had anyone treated her with as much kindness and patience as the Whitlock siblings had. Even Allie, although not very close to Emily, was nothing less than a complete sweetheart to her. Cassie was the only true friend she had. Kit and she were friends too, but together they formed a serious pair. With Cassandra, it was as easy to be silly and frivolous as it was to have sombre conversations.
Nate, on the other hand, was unlike any other individual she'd ever met. He treated her with a respect that she hadn't expected from a man of his calibre. Most men of good breeding didn't appreciate independent women, but it was quite clear that he had no problem at all with it.
Despite the entire mess with their parents and everything that had happened in their childhoods, the three Whitlocks had turned out to be good, good people. Nate had a good head on his shoulders and had passed that on to his sisters for, as Emily had heard Cassandra say numerous times, everything that the girls were and the people that they had become was all thanks to Nate always being there for them and teaching them right from wrong, which their parents had been entirely unable to do.
Nate had matured even more in the two years since she'd last seen him, though. They'd spoken only a few times, but he'd certainly had a lighter soul back then. He was much more serious now than he ever had been before.
The only conversations she'd had with him had been over dinner at a party or two. Although she and Cassandra were closer than sisters, Emily and Nate had never had the opportunity to become that close. But, she could still remember that he had been a man filled with equal admiration for intelligent debate and for mindless repartee, even when it came from a lady.
She could recall admiring that greatly. They'd spent quite some time together at one particular dinner, one at the Whitlocks's townhouse in London her last season. Kit and Lord and Lady Salisbury had been there too, but they'd mostly conversed between themselves. Nate and Emily had been left to themselves to find some amusement and they'd discussed everything under the sun, from politics to religion to the latest gossip. He'd walked her to the door later, too, and it had only been the two of them.
She couldn't for the life of her remember what they'd spoken about, but she could certainly remember returning home a mess who could only think of him. At the time, she hadn't been able to place why that was, but slowly and over time, she'd realised exactly what her reasons for being so preoccupied with him were.
She'd fancied him. She had fancied the way he spoke to her and sounded like he actually cared about what she had to say. She had fancied his lovely blond curls and his deep brown eyes. She had fancied his occasional idiocy that came forth every once in a while.
Those feelings hadn't done her any good, though, and she hadn't lost any of her determination to leave. She wasn't the sort to give up her dream over something as silly as a man, no matter how lovely he might seem. She had barely ever put herself first, and she needed to do that.
Those feelings were resurfacing, too, and that certainly wouldn't do. It was all his fault. If only he had lost all his hair in those two years or suddenly became as boring as a bundle of sticks, she wouldn't be facing this problem. It was hard enough admitting it to herself the first time and she didn't want to have to the second time. He really needed to get out of her head and, especially, out of her dreams. That was simply embarrassing.
She sighed, balancing her chin in her cupped palms and twiddled her toes. She needed some help sleeping, and she didn't have any tonics that would help. She would have to settle for some warm milk. Hopefully the cook hadn't bolted the kitchen before retiring for bed.
She stood and picked up her dressing gown from where it lay on the ground before wrapping it around herself firmly and tying it. It was a very informal, new style of dressing gown, the sort that only came up to her calf. It was highly scandalous to leave her bedchamber wearing only that along with her nightgown and no corset, but no one would be out in the hallways at this late hour, so she supposed she would be safe. Besides, she wouldn't be out for long. Twenty minutes at the latest.
She crept out of the room, wincing as the door creaked when she closed it. She was on the same floor that housed the rooms of the sitting family and was directly in between Cassandra's old bedroom and Allie's. Cassandra had arranged for her to stay there because it would have been odd and even slightly unsettling for her to sleep in an entirely different wing or floor with no one else there.
Nate, she learned, did not make use of the master's bedroom that had once belonged to his father. Instead, he slept in his childhood bedroom which was across from the one Emily was sleeping in.
Emily's had actually belonged to the late Duchess of Somerhall, which she had moved into once her marriage to the Duke had disintegrated. The thought of sleeping in a chamber that belonged to a ghost was disturbing, but she supposed that every bedchamber in every old country house had belonged to some poor, dead soul once upon a time. The thought wasn't particularly reassuring, but it did help.
The stone floor was cold against Emily's bare feet and she cursed herself for not wearing slippers before leaving. The walk to the kitchen was not very long, however, and she was soon standing outside the double doors, rubbing her chilled palms together to create some warmth.
She pushed the door and it creaked open, making her sigh with relief. If it had been bolted, she would have come all the way down for nothing. Hopefully, the cook had some milk stored in the kitchen or else Emily would have to break into the stock of laudanum that she was sure was kept somewhere in the house. She needed sleep.
"Who are you?" A voice demanded strongly, making Emily shriek as her hand moved to pick up the rolling pin that lay on the kitchen table and raised it as she turned to face the direction of the voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same." She said, trying to sound as stern as she could but unable to hide the tremble in her voice. She could see the faint outline of a figure of a man standing not two feet away from her.
"Emily?" The voice asked, sounding confused. She wondered how he knew her name, but dismissed the thought for that wasn't the sort of question to be asking, considering the situation. The man picked something up and took a step in her direction, making her stumble backwards.
"Take one step closer to me and I shall scream loud enough to wake the entire household. I know for a fact that the Duke has a pistol on his bedside table." She bluffed, raising the rolling pin a little higher.
"Does he, now?" The man said, an amused note to his tone that made his voice seem familiar. "And how exactly would you know that?"
Emily felt herself flushing in the dark before realising that this was not the sort of situation one felt embarrassed in. As she floundered and looked for something to say, the man lit a match and brought it to a candle, lighting it too.
She jumped as the kitchen was suddenly illuminated, and was even more astonished at the sight of the mysterious intruder. The rolling pin in her hands dropped to the ground with a sudden clatter.
"Oh, thank God." She breathed, raising her hand to her chest, where her heart was hammering away inside. She had been absolutely terrified, but now felt nothing but relief.
"So, how exactly do you know that the Duke has a pistol on his bedside table?" Nate asked teasingly, extending a hand to her, which she took. He was dressed casually and wore a pair of black breeches and an untucked white shirt with the two topmost buttons open, having abandoned his coat and cravat. A little bit of his broad chest was exposed, and Emily quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed.
"You terrified me." She accused, letting him help her to a chair as she glared. He wore a cheeky smile that only infuriated her further. "How difficult would it have been to announce yourself the moment you knew it was me?"
"Teasing you was rather entertaining." Nate responded, sitting down across from her. He set the candle onto the table and took a cup of something into his hands.
"What are you doing down here in the dark, anyway?" She asked, looking at him suspiciously.
"I came down here for a hot drink, but felt like ruminating in the dark for a while so blew out the candle. How was I to know that a madwoman was going to barge in through the door and threaten me with my own pistol?" He joked, gesturing to the cup in his hands. "What are you here for?"
"I had the same idea as you, I suppose." She admitted, crossing her arms across her chest as she realised just how she was dressed. She wasn't wearing much at all and her legs were exposed half the way up her calves. "I couldn't sleep and wanted some warm milk to help me."
"I'm afraid I used the last of the milk for my cocoa." Nate said regretfully, "But I'm perfectly willing to share it with you, of you'd like."
"No, I don't want to be a bother." Emily denied immediately, about to rise to her feet when she was quelled by Nate making a motion with his hands for her to be seated.
"You wouldn't be any bother. I really wouldn't mind the company if you wouldn't mind having to share a cup of cocoa with me." He assured her, and she hesitated before nodding slightly.
"Well, that would be lovely, then." She agreed, smiling when he held out the cup for her to take from him. It was warm against her fingers, and she clutched it between her palms for a moment before taking a small sip. There was about three quarters left, but the first sip was enough to make her feel better.
The rich, chocolaty taste worked wonders against her tongue and the scalding liquid burned her throat sublimely as it went down. She even had to stifle a moan.
She took another sip, before handing the cup back to Nate. She noticed his eyes flicker down her frame before settling on her face again. She raised an eyebrow at him, making him shrug apologetically and lightly flush, barely visible under the dim light that shrouded them. She fidgeted with the hem of her dressing gown, and watched closely as he took another sip of the drink.
"So, why are you still awake?" Nate asked a little while later, setting the cup down on the table. They had taken turns with the drink, and had finished it in not five minutes. Now that she considered it, it had been a rather intimate moment between them, something that cemented the start of, perhaps, a bond.
"Oh," Emily said, sighing softly and drumming her fingertips along the edge of the kitchen table. "I simply couldn't fall asleep. Too many thoughts swirling around."
"Anything in particular?" He questioned, running his hand across his face where the beginnings of a beard was blooming. She liked the scruff that was growing, it made him seem a little roguish.
"Not really." She replied casually, biting her tongue to prevent herself from spilling what exactly she'd been thinking of. "Besides, what are you doing awake?"
"I was going through some tenant agreements in my study and thought I would find something warm to drink before retiring." He informed her, "There's been a dispute over ownership of a farm that I had to sort through."
"Don't you have a solicitor to do that for you?" She asked curiously, before blushing as she realised how rude that had been. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Nate only chuckled.
"My solicitor, Mr. Greene, is visiting family in Northumberland. So, I'm afraid, I'm on my own." He said. "It's quite a bit of work, though. I should probably raise Mr. Greene's salary by quite a bit."
Emily had to laugh at that. "If you'd like, I could help. I taught myself how to make accounts and agreements."
"I'll be sure to ask you if it gets to be too much." He promised, with a half smile.
They sat in silence for a little while when, suddenly, in the distance the clock struck one. Emily pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself and Nate stood.
"I suppose it's time for the both of us to go to bed." He suggested, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet. "Shall I walk you to your room?"
"Since we are going in the same direction, I think you are going to have to." Emily reminded him with a short laugh, making Nate smile and shake his hair.
"I forgot." He confessed, giving Emily his arm for her to take. She did so with another chuckle and let him lead her to the kitchen door, the lit candle in his hand.
They walked in silence to the second floor, where their rooms were, each lost in thought. Finally, they reached the corridor between both their rooms where he stopped and turned to her.
"I bid you goodnight, then." He said and she squeezed his arm before letting it go.
"Sweet dreams, Nate."
It felt like a dream, but everything slowed down as Nate leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, making her eyes flutter shut and her cheeks colour.
Her eyes remained closed even as he pulled back and went into his room and it was only when his door shut that she started and let herself slip into her room. When she did, letting the door close behind her with a soft thud and she leaned against the door as a single thought hit her like a tonnage of bricks.
She was still just as infatuated with him as before, if not more.