“And have you seen him?” Florentia was asking.
“I did. Just this morning, as I was telling Lord Nicholas,” Amelia replied. Drat. She was speaking of Rafe, and Nicholas had not been paying close enough attention to turn the topic before they’d settled on it. The last thing he needed was Florentia becoming curious about the Vicar Osgood and discovering the good vicar was actually a man she had known all of her life. A man wanted for treason.
“What does he look like?” Florentia asked. “The servants say he has been in his chamber day and night. The only reason they know he is still inside is that he eats the food they leave.”
“Oh, he is very much alive and seemed quite well to me.”
“What is his ailment, Nicholas?” Florentia asked.
“Some sort of stomach complaint,” Nicholas said, as it was the first thing he could think of and an ailment not observable.
“Really?” Florentia said. “Cook reports he eats so heartily.”
Both ladies looked at him questioningly. Nicholas was not a good liar. He was better with horses than people. “Then it appears his time here is helping,” he said.
The women seemed to accept this. “He looked quite well to me this morning. He was in the garden, hat off and he turned to greet me. His hair was dark and wavy, quite thick really, and his eyes were fringed with dark lashes. The color was truly remarkable—”
Nicholas made himself stumble. He felt like an absolute idiot, but Rafe’s eye color was rather unique and Florentia might be suspicious if Amelia mentioned it. His sudden jolt forward caught Amelia off guard, and she also lurched forward before righting herself and lending him a steady arm to regain his balance. Even though the action had been purposeful, he did need that steadying arm to find his feet again.
“Are you alright?” she asked, putting one arm about his waist and the other on his elbow.
“Quite. I just missed a step.”
“You should go inside and rest,” Florentia said. “You will tire yourself.”
Nicholas was about to snap that he knew his own limits, but Amelia said, “Oh, one stumble is nothing. I trip over my skirts a half dozen times a day. I really should ask O’Malley to hem them for me.”
“She would be happy to do it, and she’s very quick with a needle and thread. Should we ask her now?”
“Would you? I’ll be along in a moment.”
“Of course. Good day, brother.” And Florentia started back inside.
Nicholas gave Amelia a sidelong look. “I’ve never seen you trip over your skirts.”
“And I haven’t seen you stumble like that. Is there some reason you don’t want me to discuss the vicar? I can keep a secret, you know.”
“I assure you, it was merely a loose pebble that moved unexpectedly underfoot.”
“Well, then, watch your step.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, then lifted her skirts and started back for the house. The kiss had been friendly, not at all romantic, but he still felt the pressure of her lips on his skin long after she was gone.
His bride seemed full of surprises. Not only was she perceptive and clever, she seemed innately protective. Not in a coddling way, as his sister and other family members could sometimes be, but in a way that protected his independence.
He liked her more for that. He liked her very much.
Nine
Amelia endured the fussing of O’Malley as she pinned several of Amelia’s dresses perhaps an eighth of an inch. Her skirts were not too long, of course. She’d said the first thing that had come to mind when Florentia had suggested Nicholas go inside to rest. No man wanted to be treated like a child, especially not a man with as much pride as Lord Nicholas. She knew his sort. Her father had been the same. She and her mother had spent years caring for him without being too obvious about that care.
Perhaps what Lady Florentia did not realize was that her brother did not need her to look after him. If he had needed a nursemaid, Amelia would have fought their marriage harder. She did not want a husband she had to care for like a child. She wanted a partner who would care for her just as she cared for him.
And she wanted a husband who felt something more than duty toward her. She had resigned herself to the possibility that was all Lord Nicholas would feel for her—at least until after Wickersham’s child was born—but all of that had changed this morning.
She’d come slowly awake before the sun was even up, her lower abdomen cramping enough that she turned this way and that to try and get comfortable and go back to sleep.
And then she’d come wide awake because she knew exactly what she was feeling. It was the same twinge of discomfort she felt every month during her courses. She lit a lamp and rushed to the chamber pot and let out a little whoop of joy when she’d seen the small drips of blood on the linen she used to dry herself. Her monthly courses might be late, but they were here.
She was not with child.
And that changed everything—in her mind, at least.
Now that she was not carrying another man’s child, there was no reason she and Lord Nicholas could not be married in truth. Unless, he really had no interest in her as a bed partner. The walk this morning had put that notion aside. The way he’d looked at her, spoken to her—there was an attraction there. And it was wholly reciprocated.
But how to act on it? As a wife, she was supposed to wait for him to come to her. But why would he come to her if he thought she was breeding? Or if he thought she didn’t want him? She needed to tell him she’d been mistaken and hint that she desired him. But how to broach that subject with a man? Her experience in this area was limited, and she’d never had to initiate. Wickersham had taken the lead.
She pondered her approach the rest of the day and hoped for some opportunity to speak with him that night, but he did not knock on her door, and she fell asleep before she heard him come to bed.
The next morning, she went to the garden again, hoping to see her husband, but instead she found the vicar again.
He turned to her as soon as she approached, almost as though he’d been waiting for her. Amelia stopped in her tracks. Goodness but a direct look from him was enough to stop her heart. She’d never seen such a beautiful man. He probably had every lady in his parish fawning at his feet.
“Good morning, my lady,” the vicar said, giving her a smile she imagined made hearts flutter far and wide. From the way he watched Amelia’s reaction, he knew the power of his smile. “I have been waiting for you.”
“Have you?” she asked. “Was there something you needed?”
“There is actually.” He reached in his coat and pulled out a stack of envelopes. “I wanted to ask if you would be so good as to send this correspondence for me.”
Amelia took the envelopes. There must have been almost a dozen. “Of course. I would be happy to do so. How are you feeling today, sir?”
“Perfectly—er, that is to say, better than I have been. My ailment comes and goes, you see. I never know when it might strike.” It seemed to always strike at mealtimes as she had invited him to dine with them several times, and he had always declined.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I might do to make your stay more comfortable?”