With Rafe gone, Nicholas sat and began levering himself up one step and then the next. He moved quickly, but it was still far slower than he would have liked. He was about three-fourths of the way to the top when Rafe appeared, carrying a plate of bread and cheese.
He arched a brow at Nicholas and walked up the stairs then stopped beside him. Nicholas felt like kicking Rafe’s legs out from under him. He made it look so easy. It was easy for him. Nicholas remembered traversing these stairs and others hundreds of times and never thinking about it. Now, he dreaded them.
Rafe held out the plate. “Piece of cheese?”
“I’m busy,” Nicholas said.
“Sure you don’t want help? I could have you to the top in a—”
“I can do it myself,” Nicholas said, jaw clenched.
“Very well.” Rafe started up again. “I know now why you were always so good with recalcitrant horses we always seemed to be stuck with during a mission.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re even more stubborn than they.”
Seven
Amelia sat shaking in the coach outside the church. She didn’t know if she was excited about the future or terrified she was making the biggest mistake of her life. She would walk into the chapel Amelia Blackstock and walk out Lady Nicholas. After today, her life would never be the same again. The idea was equally scintillating and petrifying.
Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting on her arm, and when she squeezed, Amelia looked up into her mother’s green eyes. “You’re sure?”
Amelia nodded. “You should go in. I’ll be right after you.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you stole the Averstow carriage and ran away,” her mother said with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be an adventure?”
“It would.” But she had nowhere to run, and even if she did run from Lord Nicholas, she couldn’t run from the real problem, which was inside her body. “But you know what Papa always said—Blackstocks don’t run from trouble.”
“It runs from us.” Her mother kissed both her cheeks, looked at her long and lovingly, then opened the carriage door. A footman handed her down and Amelia watched as she went into the small Averstow family chapel. The door closed behind her, and it was just Amelia and the footmen, who were looking rather bored of standing around waiting for her.
Trouble runs from us. Ha. Trouble had never once run from the Blackstock family. In fact, it seemed a constant shadow. And like a shadow, this current trouble couldn’t be wished away. She’d embrace it and make the best of it. She took a deep breath then pushed the coach door open. At the door to the Averstow chapel, the butler nodded at her and put his hand on the latch. “Are you ready, Miss Blackstock?”
Amelia looked down at the simple dress of white she’d worn. In her hand she held a small bunch of yellow daffodils and catmint from near the house. The yellow and purple looked cheery against her white glove. She looked up at the butler again. “Is my bonnet straight?” she asked. She would have reached up to be certain, but it was difficult with the flowers.
“Yes, miss. All looks in order.”
She blew out a breath and nodded. And then blew out another breath.
“Shall I open the door now, Miss Blackstock?”
“I suppose you must.”
“Very good.” He pulled the door open, and Amelia saw movement in the pews. Everyone turned to look at her. Fortunately, everyone was only about a dozen people. Even if they had wanted to invite more, the church was small and probably couldn’t accommodate more than twenty. It was a lovely church, though. The walls were white and the pews a smooth, honeyed wood. Behind the altar was a small stained-glass window of the sun breaking through clouds.
“Go ahead, Miss Blackstock,” the butler whispered.
Amelia realized she should start walking. Was there supposed to be music? Perhaps someone was playing. She couldn’t hear anything but the thrumming of blood in her ears. Her gaze lowered from the window to the Anglican priest and then to her betrothed. Lord Nicholas gave her a reassuring smile, and Amelia could have hugged him for it. As soon as she saw him, the tightness dissipated from her chest, and she could breathe again. Was she really marrying him? She’d definitely noticed how handsome he was before, but somehow he looked even more so this morning. His golden hair was the color of the sun in that stained-glass window, and his eyes the color of the sky behind the clouds. He was clean shaven, his face turned slightly toward the side so she could admire the lines of his cheekbones and the straight slope of his nose.
Marriage to this man did not seem a hardship. She wouldn’t mind waking up next to him every morning. She smiled back at him as she reached the front of the church and took her place beside him. It seemed natural for her to be there.
She continued to stare at him as the priest began to speak. At one point Lord Nicholas took the flowers from her and passed them to someone behind her, then he took her hands in his and spoke. She wanted to listen to what he said, but the blood in her head was rushing for another reason now. She was imagining going to bed with him tonight. Kissing him. Running her fingers through that golden hair.
Except...he’d said they would have separate bed chambers. He wasn’t marrying her for love or even infatuation. This was duty. It was probably a duty he detested. What man would want a woman carrying another man’s child?
Lord Nicholas squeezed her hands, and she wondered if he could see the concern in her features. And then she realized she was supposed to speak, and everyone was looking at her.
“I’m sorry, what was I supposed to say?” she asked, feeling completely ridiculous.
The priest repeated the vows, and she said them, keeping her eyes downcast. She didn’t deserve to marry this man. More and more it seemed an enormous mistake, and yet, here she was, sealing her fate with the words on her lips.
And then she was done speaking and Lord Nicholas put a finger under her chin, lifted her face to his, and kissed her very gently and very briefly on the lips. It was so gentle and brief, Amelia almost wondered if she’d imagined it. Until he turned her to face the guests and there was polite applause and then she was being shepherded to Battle’s Peak and somehow the entire ordeal was over.
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST was a blur. Amelia couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss Lord Nicholas had given her. It had been so soft and sweet. It made her feel as though he cared about her. That he wasn’t just marrying her out of duty. But she had to remember that this was duty for him and necessity for her. She’d married him because she needed a father for her child.
She’d tried to eat something, mostly at the urging of her mother. Finally, the breakfast had ended, and the dowager and Lord and Lady Averstow had announced they were returning to their country home. Lady Florentia took Amelia and her mother upstairs and opened the door to a large, airy bed chamber. “This is your bed chamber, Amelia—may I call you Amelia?” she asked.
“Of course.” Amelia stared at the large room with its four-poster bed and whitewashed furnishings. The pale green walls reminded her of the surrounding fields in late summer, before everything turned golden yellow from the heat of the sun.