“No but thank you for asking. My problem is not that sort.”
She was definitely educated. She spoke well and if she knew who he was, she must be local. “I’ve been told I am a good listener. If you want to talk,” he added.
She shook her head. “No. Not about this.”
“Then would you like to come inside? I could have the cook prepare some tea. We have several comfortable chairs where you could cry.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. But I have almost wrung myself dry. I should probably go home.”
He found that he didn’t want her to leave quite yet. He hadn’t had a conversation with anyone but a family member in some time. Not only that, but for once the conversation didn’t involve his injury or marriage. This woman—whoever she was—hadn’t seemed to care that he was a cripple. She couldn’t have failed to note the stick and the way he favored his right leg, but she didn’t immediately offer him a seat or behave as though he was an invalid.
“I would escort you home,” he said, “but—” And he gestured to his leg.
She glanced at his leg impassively. “I don’t live very far, but thank you. You have a lovely stable. I will recommend it to anyone else who needs a good cry.”
“Please don’t,” he said. “The horses and grooms rather prefer tearful humans to go to the house. I believe I mentioned we have several comfortable chairs. Perfect for long or even short bouts of weeping.”
“I shall keep that in mind.” She rose and he noted she was of medium height, slender, with a hint of curves below the waist and more than a hint at her neckline. He might never plan to marry, but he was still a man, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking. “And I am sorry to have troubled you.”
“It was no trouble,” he assured her. She gave him a dubious look and then whistled as loudly and shrilly as any man might do. “Come, Sweetie!”
The pig trotted to her side. She gave a quick bob. “Good day, my lord.” Lifting the hem of her skirt, she started away, the pig at her side as though it were a dog. Nicholas noted the lady’s rear view was as pleasing at the front. If he was not mistaken, she had a nicely rounded bottom.
Right before she reached the door, Nicholas pulled his gaze from her backside. “Wait,” he called. “I didn’t ask your name.”
She glanced over her shoulder, all that amber hair whipping around. “Amelia Blackstock,” she said. “No doubt you’ve been warned about me.” And then she disappeared through the door, taking her Gloucestershire Old Spots with her.
Two
Amelia had walked for about ten minutes before she realized she was heading in the wrong direction. Actually, Sweetie realized it and nudged her legs then stopped walking, plopped down, and gave a stubborn grunt. Amelia glanced back in bewilderment then looked around and realized she had gone south when she should have gone north. Leave it to Sweetie, whose first priority was always her stomach, to alert Amelia to her mistake. Sweetie didn’t like to stray too far from her feeding trough this close to mealtime.
“Oh, no,” Amelia said, feeling silly. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”
As always, Sweetie listened with interest and then rose to her feet as soon as Amelia changed directions for home. Now Sweetie trotted in front of her, leading the way. She was surprisingly fast for such a large animal. Amelia kept her gaze on Sweetie and tried to keep her thoughts from wandering again. That was rather difficult when she was still flustered by her meeting with Lord Nicholas. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. He had golden hair that fell in a perfect wave over his forehead. His eyes were a pale blue that reminded her of the summer sky. She looked up. Yes, exactly the color of a sun-washed summer sky. He’d been tall and dressed in clothes that certainly accentuated his broad shoulders and slim hips.
She’d heard he had been injured in the war and not paid much attention as she’d been consumed by her own worries at that time. Now she realized he must have injured his legs somehow as he used a cane to walk. Why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned how beautiful he was?
And why was she thinking so much about his looks? Wasn’t she in trouble right now for admiring another man overly much?
She had to walk quickly to keep up with Sweetie, and it was less than a quarter hour before she’d reached her family’s small estate, which bordered Battle’s Peak for about a half mile on the northern edge. Catmint Cottage, the name her great-grandfather had given to the house he’d had built on the land he’d inherited, had been named for the profusion of purple-blue flowers that bordered the area around the gray stone house. The estate had been larger a century ago, but her father had had to sell a portion to pay for his mother’s long illness and then an even larger portion to pay the taxes when, a few years later, he was injured. Now they had only two tenets and enough money for a maid and a cook two days a week. Most of the rooms at Catnip Cottage were closed and the furnishings covered. Amelia and her mother were the only family members who lived here now. No need for all the extra bed chambers and sitting rooms.
Sweetie gave a little squeal of delight and began to run. Amelia looked up and spotted Rose, the maid, hanging clothes to dry on a line. “Now what do you want?” Rose asked sternly when the pig stopped before her and looked up hopefully. “So sure I have something for you?”
The pig made a snuffling sound and sniffed the ground then looked back up hopefully.
“Very well,” Rose said, reaching her red, work-roughened hands into her apron and pulling out a dried apple. “Here you are then.”
Sweetie took it and crunched loudly as Rose wiped her hand on her apron.
“You spoil her,” Amelia said as she came closer.
The lines around Rose’s mouth deepened as she smiled. “And you are one to talk, Miss Blackstock.”
Amelia managed a smile that she didn’t really feel. “Guilty as charged.”
Rose reached for a shift and pinned it up, her white hair glinting in the sun. “It’s good to see you out and about. You were locked up in that house for too many years. I’ve always said a long walk does wonders for a body.”
She had said that often, and it was one of the reasons Amelia had gone for the walk that had ended at Battle’s Peak. But though she felt more energetic than she had before, her worries still lay heavy on her shoulders.
“Next time see if you can convince your mother to go with you.”
That was a Herculean task if ever she had heard one, but Amelia nodded. Sweetie nosed about her boots, sniffing hopefully for scraps to eat. Amelia went to the bucket with scraps that hung near the house, Sweetie right on her heels, and dumped the food in the trough. She checked the pig had fresh water and walked back to Rose. She would have helped hang the clothes, but her hands were dirty from her walk.
“How is she today?” Amelia asked. “Is she awake yet?”
“She is,” Rose said. “I made her some tea and toast.”
Amelia didn’t ask if her mother had eaten it. She would see that for herself in a few moments. “How did she seem?” Amelia asked.
“About the same,” Rose said, not looking at Amelia. That meant she was still not doing well. She had gotten out of bed today, which was something. Amelia tried to take solace in that small victory.