“No. I’m perfectly comfortable. Thank you.”
She wanted to ask how long he might be staying, but she couldn’t think of a way to inquire without sounding rude. Instead, she gestured to a stone bench. She sat, and he joined her on the opposite side. With his looks, the man might very well be a rake, but he didn’t seem intent on seducing her. Of course, he’d probably never had to seduce a woman in his life.
“Perhaps if you feel well enough, you might join us for dinner this evening,” Amelia said, thinking that a personal invitation might be more persuasive.
“You are very kind to offer, but I have so much prayer and meditation to do this afternoon.”
Amelia raised her brows. “Is there a certain amount one must accomplish each day?”
“There is, and my illness means I am woefully behind.”
Amelia found this very strange, but then what did she know about the church other than the sermons she heard on Sunday mornings? Because of her father’s illness, she had often not been able to attend church, so she probably knew less than most. But one thing she did know was that the clergymen who had called at Catmint Cottage over the years had often consoled and counseled her mother.
“You have known Lord Nicholas for a long time,” she said.
“We went to school together?” the vicar said, almost as though he were asking her to confirm it.
“Yes. Do you mind if I ask what he was like before his injury? Was he always so aloof?”
“Nickers?” The vicar smiled again, his gaze fastening on a far-off point as though he were seeing the past. “He was never the sort to seek out a crowd. In fact, he’s always seemed happiest in the company of his horses. He probably talked to them more than any of the troo—the other students.”
“He talks to almost no one now,” Amelia said. She didn’t add, not even his sister. Not even me.
“He has become quite the recluse since his injury. Part of it, I imagine, is that he’s mourning what he’s lost.”
Amelia frowned. “And what is that?”
“He can’t ride anymore, my lady. And for Nickers, riding was everything.”
“I wish you would speak to him about it. Why shouldn’t he ride? It’s only his pride—”
The vicar shook his head. “A man needs some pride. He’s not a child, and I can’t blame him for not wanting to be led about like a toddler on a pony.”
Amelia nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. But why should he shun people as well?”
“Is that what he is doing?” the vicar asked, violet eyes narrowing. “Has he been avoiding you?”
She didn’t want to be disloyal, so she said, “It feels like it. I feel as though I hardly see him.”
The vicar considered. “May I give you some advice, Lady Nicholas?”
“Of course.” Now was the time when he would start quoting Bible verses. Something about women submitting to men or Adam and Eve, she expected.
“Men are idiots,” the vicar said.
Amelia blinked. “Pardon?”
“Men are idiots. I’m sorry to say Lord Nicholas is not exempt. He has no idea what you require from him or what you want. He has probably not even considered it. If you want him to know, you will have to tell him.”
Amelia stared at him in silence for a long moment. “Isn’t that rather forward?”
He shrugged. “Men don’t mind forward behavior from a wife. And, knowing Nickers as I do, I think that you will have to, er—think of it like chess.”
“I don’t play chess.”
“I don’t either, but someone has to move their piece first, yes? The game won’t begin if both players sit and stare at the board.”
“That is a good point.”
“It rather is, isn’t it?” He looked inordinately pleased with himself.
Amelia rose. “I will go post these now.” She tapped the letters in her hand. “I must say, I expected you to offer me more scripture references.”
“Oh, I did. I offered you loads. I just couched them in everyday conversation. It’s a new method employed by the Church. Makes us rectors more relatable.”
Amelia bid him good day and went inside. As she made her way inside, she couldn’t help but glance down at the letters she carried. Her brows knit at the names of those addressed.
Lieutenant-Colonel Draven
Mr. Neil Wraxall
His Grace The Duke of Mayne
Mr. Murray
That last one was addressed to a man in Scotland. Amelia puzzled over the odd assortment of men. None looked to be in any way affiliated with the Church. And wasn’t Colonel Draven the man Nicholas had served under during the war?
She gave the letters to a footman to send with the other correspondence and went to fetch the scraps from the kitchen for Sweetie. She found her pet in the barn with the other animals, seemingly enjoying lying in the summer sun. But Sweetie jumped up upon spotting Amelia and ran over to greet her. Amelia spent some time scratching Sweetie behind the ears and making sure she’d eaten her fill before calling the pig to walk to the stable with her. But Sweetie was more interested in taking another nap, and Amelia went alone.
She greeted the grooms, who were taking the horses out for exercise. Each horse paraded past her seemed more beautiful than the last. It was no wonder Battle’s Peak was known for its breeding stock. These creatures were magnificent.
“Good morning, my lady,” the stablemaster said as he approached her. “Did you wish to ride? I have a gentle mare who would suit you.”
“No, thank you.” Amelia did not ride and did not intend to start now. She enjoyed looking at horses and perhaps feeding one an apple or two on occasion, but she did not want to sit on one’s back. “I was looking for Lord Nicholas. Have you seen him?”
“Yes, my lady. He is at the end of the stable with Lady Flame.”
“Lady Flame is a horse, I take it.”
The stablemaster nodded. “A good old girl. She’s not been feeling well lately.”
“Thank you.” Amelia lifted her skirts and entered the stable. She could understand why Nicholas liked it here. It was cool and not dark but comfortably dim. The smell of manure was present, of course, but mostly the scent of clean hay and oats and oiled leather reached her nose. She found Nicholas in a middle stall with a reddish-brown horse. He was brushing her mane and talking to her softly. As soon as she approached, he paused.
“Good morning,” she said, feeling awkward at having interrupted him.
“Were we supposed to meet this morning?” he asked. His blue eyes swept over her face, and her belly fluttered. Vicar Osgood might be a beautiful man, but Nicholas was also easy on the eyes. And when Nicholas looked at her, Amelia felt all warm and prickly inside. The prickly might have been slight annoyance. After all, she’d hoped he would want to make a morning walk with her part of his routine, but he had obviously taken it as a one-time event.
“I understand you are tending Lady Flame. She hasn’t been feeling well?”
“A bit of arthritis, I think,” he said, seeming to relax and beginning to brush her again. “She’s getting on in years and she’s been walking a bit stiffly. I just finished rubbing some ointment on her legs.”