“I have my reasons for wanting to marry, just as you do.”
“Such as?”
He gave her a tight smile. “My mother will be back in a moment, and I’d rather we sort this before she returns. Do you agree or no?”
Amelia stared at him. His blue eyes were calm and his expression patient. If she said no, he would probably nod and wish her the best. If she said, yes...that was the real question. If she said yes, her entire life would change.
It wasn’t the change she’d wanted. Of course, neither was bearing a child out of wedlock. On the other hand, she’d been dreaming of a change for ten years—longer than that if she thought back to all the years her grandmother had been sick. She’d wanted to go somewhere new, do something different, not have to worry about medicines and money and whether Rose needed help with the chamber pot or making dinner. She’d asked for change, and now the chance at an entire new life—a new world—had been tossed in her lap. All she need do was grasp it.
“I agree,” she said. “I’ll marry you.”
He hadn’t exactly asked her, but she wouldn’t let a small thing like a proposal ruin this moment. On impulse, she stepped forward, rose on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. Of course, his mother picked that moment to open the door and return.
NICHOLAS HAD BEEN TOO stunned to say anything when Miss Blackstock kissed his cheek. He’d wanted to pull her close and see if he could catch the scent of apples again, but his mother’s horrified gasp put a damper on that idea. Before she could sputter something about decency and propriety, Nicholas announced, “Miss Blackstock and I are agreed. We will marry posthaste.”
That announcement took the wind out of her sails. The dowager seemed to deflate at the words. Finally, she gave a tight nod. “I cannot say I am happy about this turn of events, but I am reassured that you are both willing to be reasonable.” She directed her gaze at Miss Blackstock as she spoke. Little did his mother know that Miss Blackstock was actually quite reasonable. Not only that, but she was honorable. She didn’t have to tell him about her pregnancy. She could have hidden it from him until after they were married. The fact that she was honest and open with him made him like her all the more.
“Henry,” his mother said, turning her head slightly to indicate Nicholas’s brother, still standing in the doorway. “You will go with Nicholas to secure the special license tomorrow.”
“Of course, Mama.”
The dowager looked at Miss Blackstock again. “You will marry the day after tomorrow. Eight in the morning in the family chapel. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. Now I suppose we should see if John Coachman can take you home.”
But Miss Blackstock shook her head. “I’d rather walk, my lady. It’s quite difficult to persuade Sweetie to climb in a carriage, and we can be home by the time your grooms have the horses hitched at any rate.”
“Miss Blackstock,” the dowager began. “It is after midnight. You cannot think to wander about the countryside alone. It is not safe.”
“Thank you for your concern, my lady, but I’ll have my pig with me. She is quite adept at protecting me.”
“A pig! Nicholas, tell her no.”
Nicholas wasn’t about to step in the middle of this. The best thing to do would have been to offer to accompany her home, but he couldn’t possibly walk that far, especially in the dark when he couldn’t see the uneven spots in the ground that might put him off balance. “Can we at least send a footman to accompany you?” he asked.
“Please don’t,” she said, and before anyone could argue further, she said farewell and was gone.
“Nicholas,” his mother’s voice was sharp. “Go after her. She cannot walk home alone.”
He stared at his mother, wondering if she could possibly be serious. Had she really forgotten his injury?
“Nicholas!” she said, staring at him with annoyance.
“Mama,” the marquess said quietly. “He cannot go after her. His legs...” The sentence trailed off, leaving Nicholas to wonder what he might have said had he continued. No one ever mentioned his injury in his hearing. He rather doubted they mentioned it among themselves. What would Henry have said? His legs are crippled? He is useless?
His mother showed no embarrassment or acknowledgement of her mistake. Instead, she quickly changed course. “Ask a footman to accompany her, Henry. Thank you.”
Henry went out on perfectly healthy, normal legs, leaving Nicholas alone with the dowager. She gave him a narrow look. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Nicholas shrugged. “You wanted me to marry.”
“But did you have to go and ruin a girl to do it?”
He sighed. “I kissed her. That is hardly ruining her. Despite what it might have looked like, it really was just a kiss. Ridiculous that now I should have to marry her over it, but I understand that in your world the way something looks is much more important than the way it really is.”
His mother sat heavily in a cream chair, her white head resting on the curve of the back like a snowy bird. “Why must it be that woman? Was there no one else you wanted to kiss?”
Nicholas wouldn’t answer that question. Not only was there no one else he wanted to kiss, he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to kiss Miss Blackstock until he was kissing her. Instead of pursuing that line of thought, he said, “What is the matter with Miss Blackstock? Her father was a gentleman, and his land borders ours. I should think it a decent match.”
His mother lifted her head, slowly. “As I mentioned the other day, that lady has become quite wild of late. Her father died some half a year ago, and since then she has been left to her own devices.”
“What does that mean, precisely?” Nicholas asked. “She lives alone?”
The marquess came back into the room, half out of breath. “I sent a footman, Mama, but he could do no more than follow at a distance. Miss Blackstock’s pig did not take kindly to his presence.”
Nicholas coughed to hide the hint of a smile.
“Henry, Nicholas was just asking about Miss Blackstock. Tell him why I am so despondent at this betrothal.”
Henry looked at his mother and then at Nicholas. At twelve years Nicholas’s senior, Henry had never felt much like a brother to Nicholas. Their father had died when Nicholas was only nine, and for almost as long as he could remember, Henry had been the head of the family. He always seemed like more of an authority figure than a sibling. Henry was closest in age to Richard, who was eight years older than Nicholas, and the two of them had always been on good terms. For a few years during his childhood, Nicholas and Florentia had been playmates, she being only two years older than he, but when their youngest sibling, Anne, had been born, Florentia had been more interested in playing at being her nursemaid or mother and dressing Anne up like a doll than playing rough and tumble games with Nicholas.
It was because he was alone so much that Nicholas had developed a love of horses. He spent a great deal of time in the stables with the grooms and stablemaster, and he had learned everything from how to properly muck out a stall to how to saddle his own mount. When he’d gotten older, he’d learned all there was to know about breeding horses as well. He took a keen interest in pairing the right stallion with the right mare and for years he had not missed the birth of a single foal.