Ignoring the happy voices at his back, Nathanial kept his gaze fixed on something far away. He did not know how long he stood on his own, away from others. No one missed him. No one noticed that he no longer shared in their conversations. No one called him back over.
Of course, Nathanial was not surprised.
After all, he did not have a place among these people. He wasn’t certain he wanted one. But he needed to belong somewhere, did he not? Was this where Zach had found his new home? A home that simply had no place for Nathanial? Of course, Zach would never send him away, but now everything was different.
Before, it had been the two of them side by side, hand in hand, facing the world. Now, Zach had his wife, new friends, extended family. He no longer needed Nathanial the way he had before.
It was a gloomy thought to be certain, but a true one nonetheless. And above all, Nathanial knew that he needed to face the truth.
“Hello,” a soft voice spoke to his right, and Nathanial turned to see a rather unusual woman step up to him. She was clearly not of English descent as her skin shone in a warm bronze tone and her hair was the darkest ebony he had ever seen. Brown eyes swept his face as she leaned against the stone balustrade. “You must be Lord Pembroke’s brother.” She smiled at him. “Do you have a name?”
Her melodious voice reminded Nathanial of Abigail, of her lies, of the many smiles she had bestowed upon him, of her betrayal. “I’m not interested,” he heard himself snap before he could stop himself. Had he not only moments ago promised he would not ruin his brother’s wedding celebration? And here he was insulting one of his brother’s guests!
Oddly enough, though, the woman did not put him in his place before storming off and sharing his lacking manners with the world. No, instead she laughed.
Not in mockery.
But in amusement.
“You’re not interested? In what? Giving me your name?” Smiling, she looked up at him. “Do you want me to guess?” Her lips curled, and she placed her right forefinger to one corner of her mouth. “Well, people only ever refer to your brother as Lord Pembroke. So, I don’t even know his last name…or yours, for that matter. Besides, last names are very dull, wouldn’t you agree?” Her gaze swept over him from head to toe. “First names then,” she mumbled. “Robert? Charles? Bernard?” Her smile turned into a bit of a wicked grin. “Igor? Spartacus? Caesar? I could go on, but you’d make it a lot easier on both of us if you simply told me.”
Taken aback by her strange response, Nathanial simply stared at her, wondering if such a woman truly existed or if he was hallucinating.
“How about this?” she said, her gaze seeking his. “I’ll tell you mine first.” Again, the corners of her mouth quirked upward. “My name is Charlaine Palmer. Now, you.”
Nathanial inhaled a slow breath. Perhaps if he answered her she would go away and leave him alone. “Nathanial Caswell.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nathanial.” Annoyingly, her smile did not dim and neither did she show the slightest inclination to leave. “Indeed, Nathanial is much better than Igor.” Sighing, Miss Palmer turned around, her hands resting on the balustrade as her gaze swept the extensive lawns. “It is beautiful here.” She glanced up at him. “Do you enjoy England?”
Nathanial shrugged.
“I’m from Jamaica,” she told him, even though he had not asked. “And you?”
Nathanial sighed. “Boston.” Who knew what strange destinations she would start to name if he refrained from answering?
“I’ve never been there,” Miss Palmer remarked. “I’ve never been anywhere. My whole life, I spent in that one small village, saw the same beloved people every day and never contemplated leaving this small speck of land I called home.” A deep sigh left her lips, and Nathanial thought he heard something more painful lurking behind the wistfulness. “England is a strange place.”
Nathanial swallowed, wondering if Miss Palmer had somehow sensed his own reservations or if it had merely been a lucky guess. “Why are you here?” he all but growled under his breath, wishing she would simply leave him alone. Her cheerfulness made him feel even worse about his own dark mood.
“We were invited,” she told him with a sideways glance that made Nathanial wonder if she had intentionally misunderstood him.
“No, here? With me?” he clarified, no longer worried he would offend her for that seemed impossible to do. “I do believe I’ve made it clear that I do not wish to converse.”
Miss Palmer chuckled, her eyes turning back to look upon him. “That you have.”
“Then why are you still here?” he asked, trying not to look at her. Those deep brown eyes were oddly unsettling. Indeed, the whole woman was odd and unsettling.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she grinned at him. “Because you need me.”
His gaze snapped over to meet hers. “I beg your pardon?”
Smiling at him, she exhaled, then shook her head at him. “Quite frankly, you look in desperate need of a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend for you.”
Of all the possible things she could have said in response to his question, this one had been nowhere among them. “You…want to be my…friend?” he asked carefully, wondering if his hearing could be impaired.
“Precisely.”
“Why?”
For a long moment, those dark brown eyes looked into his and a part of Nathanial felt as though she were looking inside of him to his core. It felt like a touch, as though she had reached out and placed her hand upon his arm.
But she hadn’t.
Miss Palmer simply stood there, an arm’s length away, her hands resting on the balustrade at her back. “Why not?” was all she said, a soft smile playing across her features.
Nathanial straightened and took a step back. “I don’t need a friend.”
“Everyone needs a friend,” she objected before she pushed off the balustrade, closing the distance he was wielding like a weapon to hold her at bay. “Pierce told me−”
“Pierce?”
“Lord Markham,” she elaborated. “I believe he is a good friend of your brother’s.” She indicated a dark-haired man who stood across the terrace, trying his utmost not to stare at Becca’s cousin, Miss Hawkins, as she walked the lawns with her parents. “He told me what happened in Boston and−”
Nathanial gritted his teeth. “Apparently, the gossips work as efficiently here as they do in America.”
The expression on her face softened. “Do you intend to misunderstand me?” Her brows rose in challenge. “Is this your way of trying to frighten me away, Nathanial? Well, if it is, I might as well inform you here and now that it won’t work and save us both some time yet again.” As Nathanial made to step away, Miss Palmer moved to prevent it, her gaze seeking his. “You might not be in a place right now where you can admit that you need someone. I can understand that. I’ve been where you are.” She swallowed. “More than once.” Her chin rose. “But I came here to assure you that everything will be all right. I promise. Whether you believe it or not, whether you want it or not, you have a friend in me. You’re not alone. I simply wanted you to know that.” A warm smile played over her lips before she turned and walked away to the other side of the terrace where she addressed the dark-haired man, Lord Markham, who still stood staring down into the gardens.
Exhaling, Nathanial all but slumped back against the balustrade, his legs suddenly feeling rather unsteady. Never in his life had he met anyone like Miss Palmer.
So outspoken.
So honest.
So insistent.
Did she truly mean what she had said?
Watching her from afar, Nathanial wondered what she could be saying to Lord Markham for it seemed that he, too, was receiving an earful of advice. The dark-haired man, on the other hand, appeared grateful. The expression upon his face whispering of a man who was in the company of a confidante.
Someone he trusted.
Did she truly mean to be his friend?
Aside from Abigail, Nathanial had never been friends with a woman. Early on, he had been certain that Abigail was the one for him and so he had never mingled, never chatted with ladies in order to gauge their interest as well as his own. Only after Abigail had broken their engagement had Nathanial found that women had begun to eye him differently. They had batted their eyes at him, casting coy smiles and seductive glances.
Nathanial had been aware that, given his financial situation, he was considered somewhat of a catch to Boston’s ladies since Abigail had broken with him. The thought had always upset him for it had only ever spoken of superficial intentions, none that spoke to him in particular but rather to his purse. No one outside his family had ever truly cared about him, and now, after Abigail, Nathanial could not help but wonder if there was something…deficient about him.
Was there something wrong with him?
Or was it the world? Could it simply not be trusted?
Sighing, Nathanial almost flinched when Miss Palmer’s dark brown gaze collided with his own as she looked over her shoulder and found him watching her. Quickly, he dropped his gaze and spun back around, his eyes fixed on the green bushes a bit away. Indeed, a much safer image to observe.
I’ve decided to be that friend for you.
Her words echoed in his mind for they were the strangest words Nathanial had ever heard. People didn’t walk up to people they had never met before and declare themselves their friend, did they? Indeed, Miss Palmer appeared to be a most peculiar woman. In all likelihood, it would be best for him to keep his distance from her.
Still, a part of him knew very well that she was right. He needed a friend.
Desperately.
But her?
Nathanial sighed. In all likelihood, her words had been meant as a jest, a tease or had simply been said in a spur of the moment. In all likelihood, he would never see her again.
Nathanial was certain of it.