“I agree, and I hope you don’t think I do fault her.”
“Many men would.”
Nicholas didn’t say the obvious—that he was not like many men. He simply met the doctor’s eyes with his own steady gaze.
“I’ll leave Mrs. Blackstock to your care then,” Evans said. “And take my leave.”
“Good day, sir.”
He walked away, his movements agile and easy even for his age. When he had gone down the stairs and left Nicholas alone outside the bed chamber, Nicholas drew in a breath. He knew what must be done, little as he wanted to do it.
Ten
Amelia didn’t hear the door open or Lord Nicholas return to the bedchamber, but she knew the precise moment he entered. He was remarkably graceful in his movements for a man who walked with a limp and a cane, so it wasn’t clumsiness that alerted her but a shivering sense of awareness she was coming to realize was present whenever he was near. Her spine tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in a sort of ticklish way. But instead of turning to acknowledge him, she kept her focus on her mother, who had eaten a little and now had her eyes closed and was resting. Amelia watched the slow rise and fall of her chest and knew she could not leave her. Amelia might be a new bride, but she was also a daughter. Her mother needed her.
Nicholas had made it quite clear he did not.
The timing was bad, she told herself as she stroked her mother’s brow. She had just begun to make some headway with Nicholas and if she spent time away now, she would certainly lose ground.
But it couldn’t be helped. She had to do what was right, even if it meant a blow to her fledgling marriage and losing the potential of happiness. It was harder to do this time—to give up her own happiness and the chance of a future with a husband—but that didn’t make it any less right.
Lord Nicholas moved behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. The gesture surprised her. She wanted to lean her cheek against his hand, but she resisted.
“Is she asleep?” he asked quietly.
“For the moment, yes.”
“We should speak privately.”
Amelia did turn her head to look at him then. She hadn’t expected him to suggest they speak. She’d thought he would say they should return to Battle’s Peak—or at least, he would say he wanted to return. Perhaps he would say it now.
She rose and followed him, closing the door softly behind her. Once outside, she gestured to the nearby chamber, which happened to be her own. She hadn’t been inside since the morning of her wedding. It had only been a few days, but it seemed so much longer. The room, which had once been as familiar as her mother’s face, now seemed like it had belonged to someone else. The pale blue walls and white curtains looked so childish and unsophisticated. On the window ledge lay a doll she had played with as a child and tacked on the wall was a drawing of Sweetie she had made. She was no great artist, but she’d been proud of it.
“We should go somewhere else,” she said, trying to turn back, but Nicholas did not move away from the door.
“This is adequate.” He looked about. “Was this your chamber?”
“It was.”
She hated to see his eyes skim over the room, no doubt taking in the doll and the awful drawing. He must think her so silly and green. “It’s charming,” he said. “Is that a horse?” He nodded to the picture of Sweetie.
She glanced at the drawing again. It was bad but not that bad.
“It’s a pig,” she said. “Can you not see that?”
“Of course. My eyes aren’t what they were.”
But there was nothing the matter with his eyes. She had made the legs too long and the snout a bit narrow. She wanted to rip it down, but instead, she folded her hands in front of her. “What is it you wanted to speak about?”
“Your mother,” he said without preamble. “The doctor told me she requires more care than she has been receiving.”
Amelia took a deep breath. “I was thinking the same. I need to spend more time with her.”
He nodded. “I agree. It would also be helpful to take some of the burden of the estate off her shoulders.”
“Yes. She’s in no state to deal with tenant requests or oversee the harvest in a couple of months.”
“Then we are in agreement.”
“I should stay here,” she said.
“What?” He looked completely taken aback. “No.”
“But you just said—”
“You cannot stay here. I mean, you could. I’d rather...” He trailed off and she raised a brow. “I think it would be best if you returned to Battle’s Peak. Florentia will miss you if you are not there.”
“Florentia.” Not exactly what she wanted to hear.
“Your mother should remove to Battle’s Peak as well. She will have the best care, and you will be close by.”
Amelia was genuinely stunned. She had not expected him to suggest her mother move into Battle’s Peak. Not that the house didn’t have room. She hadn’t even seen the whole of it yet, but she thought it boasted at least eight bed chambers, possibly more. “You don’t mind?” she asked.
“Of course not. I would have suggested it sooner had I known. As to the estate, I would send for one of the assistant land managers from one of my brother’s larger estates. The manager can review the situation at Catmint Cottage and put affairs in order as well as oversee things as long as necessary.”
Amelia hadn’t considered this idea, hadn’t considered there was any way to manage the estate without taking it upon herself. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
He gave her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“The estate is entailed. You won’t make any profit. Your family will not profit.”
He shrugged. “Not everything is about profit. You need help. Your mother needs help. If I can provide that, why wouldn’t I?”
She didn’t have an answer to that question. She just knew that many men would not have even considered making such an offer, much less actually seeing it through. Amelia supposed she should have some pride and refuse the offer, but she couldn’t see how pride would serve anything but itself in this instance. “Your offer is generous,” she said, “and I accept.”
“Good. Then I will return to Battle’s Peak and make the arrangements. You pack what your mother needs. I’ll send the coach back in a few hours.”
Amelia felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude. She doubted Nicholas would quite know what to make of her if she started crying and blubbering her thanks. Instead, she flung her arms around him. He caught her, wrapping his arms about her. His body was stiff with surprise.
“Thank you!” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping back. He seemed awkward, which made her feel awkward as well.
She brushed her hands on her skirts. “Should I see you out?”
“No, I can manage. Should I send Florentia or O’Malley to help you pack?”
“Rose will help.” She didn’t look at him. Things hadn’t been awkward between them before, but she should have comprehended he wouldn’t know what to make of her profuse thanks. It was just so rare that anyone ever offered to help. Years ago, when her grandmother had fallen ill, her mother said that neighbors had come and given their help and support. But after a few years, their generosity had waned. Since Amelia could remember, the family had no one to rely upon. She hadn’t realized what a weight that was. Now it was as though Nicholas had lifted it from her shoulders and she was so much lighter she could almost fly away.