“I hope you will think of me like your sister and come to me if you need anything,” Florentia said. “My sister Anne married a few years ago, and I’ve missed her.”
“That is very kind of you,” Amelia’s mother said. “Do you know if Amelia’s trunks have arrived yet?” Amelia and her mother had stayed up late, packing two trunks with everything Amelia held dear. Even though Catmint Cottage was close by, Amelia’s mother said it was best to take everything she would need in one fell swoop.
“They arrived during the breakfast, and I’ve asked O’Malley to unpack them.”
Amelia raised her brows.
“The lady’s maid,” Florentia clarified. “If you don’t mind, we will share one.”
“That’s very generous.”
Florentia shrugged. “She can manage us both as we don’t entertain much. I’ll leave you to settle in,” she said and left Amelia and her mother alone, closing the door as she departed.
“This looks nice enough,” her mother said, opening all the drawers and cupboards and making certain everything was as it should be. Amelia went to the windows and looked out at the manicured lawns of the great house. She had a view of the back, which was bordered by a grove of trees and trim shrubbery. The grove also boasted a fountain. A couple of birds were splashing about in the fountain and shaking their feathers. She moved about, looking at the furnishings, and stopped before a closed door. She tried it, wondering if it was a dressing room, but it was locked.
“That is the door to Lord Nicholas’s room,” her mother said.
Amelia felt her cheeks heat, and she dropped her hand immediately.
“Oh,” she said, feeling ridiculous. For a moment, she had forgotten she was not a guest here, but the mistress. She was a wife now.
“I have been putting this conversation off,” her mother said, “but I suppose we had better have it before I go.”
Amelia turned to look at her. “You’re leaving already?”
“I’m very tired, my love, and I am sure you are as well. Besides, your husband probably wants you all to himself.”
Did he? Lord Nicholas had barely spoken to her throughout breakfast. He hadn’t really even looked at her. She wondered if he was in his room now or if he’d gone to the stable. She really should go there too and make sure Sweetie was settling in. She’d wanted to bring the pig inside, but her mother said the dowager would probably frown upon that.
“I worry about you,” Amelia said, allowing her mother to draw her away from the connecting door and to the bed. “Alone at Catmint Cottage.”
“I have Rose and plenty of ledgers to keep me busy. After a few days’ rest, I will be ready to look at the accounts and perhaps visit all the tenants.”
Amelia had heard all of this before. Her mother often made plans she promised to start once she was rested, but days would pass and then weeks and nothing would be accomplished.
“I will come visit you tomorrow,” Amelia promised. “We can have tea.”
Her mother laid a hand over Amelia’s. “That would be lovely, but it might be best for you to stay close for a few days. Your husband will want you near.”
Amelia couldn’t think why. “Catmint Cottage isn’t far.”
“Yes, but you are married now, and when a man and woman marry, their lives change. You see, sometime today, probably this evening, but possibly this afternoon, your husband will want to visit you in your chamber. When he does, he will probably want to kiss you and get into bed with you.”
Amelia suddenly realized what her mother was trying to explain to her. Of course, she already knew all about what happened between a man and a woman under cover of darkness, but she couldn’t tell her mother that.
“And then he will...”
“I think I know what you are telling me, Mama,” Amelia broke in. She did not want the mortification of her mother explaining sexual relations.
“How would you know?”
Amelia hadn’t thought far enough ahead to anticipate that question. “I, er, I have seen animals. All those foals and piglets and lambs that are born every spring result from all the, er, activities in the few months before.”
Her mother nodded. “It’s a bit different with men and women. In nature, the male mounts the female from behind, but humans—”
“Mother!” Amelia cried, resisting the urge to put her hands over her ears. “Lord Nicholas and I will figure it out, I am sure. There’s no need to explain in detail.” Amelia prayed her mother would agree and stop talking.
“Very well,” Mrs. Blackstock said, looking relieved as well. “If you do have questions, you can always come to me.”
“Thank you, Mama. I will.” Amelia hugged her mother, and her mother hugged her back, embracing her with surprising strength.
“Oh, darling girl, this is not how I imagined your wedding, but I can’t claim I am unhappy. You are a lady now—married to the son of a marquess. I always wanted you to marry above your station. Your father simply wanted you to be happy. Now you will have both, yes?”
Amelia had no idea if she would be happy or not, but it was too late to change her mind. “I will be, Mama. I am happy.”
“Good.” Marianne Blackstock kissed her daughter’s cheek and rose.
“I’ll see you out, Mama.”
She held up a hand. “I know the way. You stay here and rest. You may not sleep much tonight.”
Amelia smiled weakly, and as soon as her mother was gone, she flopped back on the bed and blew out a breath. As embarrassing as the conversation with her mother had been, Amelia was saddened by it. She was not a nervous bride waiting for her bridegroom to come to her bed. Lord Nicholas wouldn’t be coming to her bed. He’d said they would not have marital relations. How could she blame him? She was ruined, even before he’d met her. Of course, he wouldn’t want her. That door between their chambers was closed and locked and would remain that way.
NICHOLAS STOOD IN DOMINION’S stall, brushing the stallion. Dominion was temperamental and wouldn’t allow anyone but Nicholas and Bowen the stablemaster to tend to him. He seemed to know he was a magnificent beast and deserved the best.
“There you are,” said a voice, and Rafe peered around the wall of the stall.
Nicholas quickly looked about the stable, hoping none of the grooms were about. Rafe clapped him on the shoulder. “I already checked. They’re in bed. No one will see Reverend Osgood.”
“You’re a vicar, not a reverend.”
Rafe cocked his head. “I thought I was a reverend. No, we’re both wrong. I’m a rector.”
“You’re a vicar, and you had better remember it because we’ve told everyone the Vicar Osgood is not to be disturbed.”
Rafe sat on a wooden barrel. Somehow he looked elegant and sophisticated, even surrounded by hay and burlap feed bags. “What is the difference between a rector and a vicar? I’ve always wondered that.”
“Didn’t your father want you to go into the church?”
Rafe smiled as though thinking fondly of some long-lost memory. “He did until he caught me...well, that’s not relevant. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed with your bride?”