“He only became a duke recently. Before that he fought with Nicholas during the war.”
“If he’s a friend of Lord Nicholas, then perhaps Nicholas invited him.” Florentia raised a brow, and Amelia nodded. “I know. I know. Nicholas is not the sort to organize a house party.”
“Which is why I came to you.”
“But I had nothing to do with it,” Amelia insisted. “I’ve never hosted a house party in my life, and I would never invite a duke and duchess to one without consulting you.”
“Even if you wanted the event to be a surprise for Lord Nicholas?”
Amelia straightened. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
“Of course not,” Florentia said, taking the card back. “I’m sure you had every good intention, but knowing my brother as I do, I would advise against this sort of function. He is a solitary man. You think it will draw him out, but he will just retreat. You’ll be forced to explain his absence day after day. I speak from experience.” She took hold of Amelia’s wrist and squeezed it in what was most likely meant to be a show of sympathy, but Amelia shook her off.
“That’s all very well, but I did not organize a house party.” She gestured to her mother’s closed door. “I have enough on my hands at the moment.”
“Then who did?”
“Ask your brother.” Amelia turned away. “I’m sure you speak to him more than I.”
She returned to her mother’s chamber and closed the door, taking just a moment to lean against it and draw in a calming breath. Why did it feel as though everything were falling apart? First her mother had fallen ill. Then Nicholas rejected her. Now his sister thought she was a liar. She didn’t see how things could get worse.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked.
Amelia blinked and stared at her. It was the first time in days her mother had spoken of her own volition. Usually, Amelia had to ask her a question and then coax an answer.
“Everything is fine.” Amelia pushed away from the door. “Just a misunderstanding.”
Mrs. Blackstock nodded. “Marriage is difficult the first few years.”
Amelia froze midstep on her way to the bedside. She could not remember her mother ever speaking to her about the first years of her marriage to her father.
“I remember how your father and I struggled,” her mother said.
Amelia could only stare. Gradually, she forced her feet forward and made herself sit on the bedside. “That’s difficult to believe.” She tried to think of something else to say, anything to keep her mother talking. “You two always seemed so happy together.”
“Did we?” Mrs. Blackstock gave her a faint smile. Amelia might have fallen over if she hadn’t quickly steadied herself. She hadn’t seen her mother smile in days. Perhaps speaking about Papa was good for her mother.
“You did. Even after his injury, you were always the one who could make him laugh.”
Her mother smiled again and ducked her head. Amelia imagined she was remembering the times her father had smiled. “Yes, well, it wasn’t always like that. We had our share of squabbles. Some were even screaming matches.”
Amelia laughed. “I don’t believe that.”
“Oh, believe it! It’s bound to happen when two people who are different try to make a life together. That first year of marriage, we seemed to quarrel about everything. He didn’t like the way I cooked potatoes. I didn’t like how he left his boots in the middle of the floor.”
“I was always tripping over his boots,” Amelia said. “He just left them wherever he removed them.”
“Bad habit of his, but I learned to love him despite it. No man or woman is perfect, and flaws can be as endearing as those perfections we fancy.”
If Nicholas had a flaw, it was only that he didn’t want her. And perhaps that was more her flaw than his. “I’m afraid Lord Nicholas and I have more to overcome than boots in the middle of the floor.”
“I was afraid of that. You knew so little of each other before you wed. I think that makes it even harder, especially when difficulties come.”
Amelia watched her mother’s gaze shift to the window. She thought Marianne would go silent again. She often had that faraway look on her face when she was about to fall silent and pensive for hours, but instead she reached over and took Amelia’s hand. “Do you know what we argued about?”
Amelia shook her head, but as her mother was still looking out the rain-streaked window, she spoke too, “No.”
“I don’t mean a small argument, either. I mean an explosion of tempers.” Her mother’s gaze left the window and landed on Amelia. “It was over you.”
“Me?”
“Not you, specifically, but over a baby. We both wanted one so very badly, and it took several years for us to conceive. It was a trying time for both of us. We both blamed ourselves and we didn’t speak about it to each other and started to turn inward. Then we blamed each other.”
“Oh, Mama. I’m so sorry.” Amelia had known her parents had difficulty conceiving. She had asked many times as a child why she had no siblings. Her father always said that they had the perfect child on the first try and there was no need to have another. When she’d gotten older, her mother had told her they’d tried for more and the Lord had not blessed them.
“So was I and so was your father. We apologized to each other and decided that if we weren’t meant to have children, then so be it. Imagine our surprise a year or so later when I found out I would have you.”
Amelia squeezed her mother’s hand. “Thank you for telling me that.” She leaned forward and hugged her mother. “I’m so glad you are here with me, Mama. I have missed you.”
“Oh, you don’t need me.” Her mother patted her back. “What you need is to speak to your husband. Talk to him. Don’t let those miscommunications stand. Don’t let hurt feelings linger.”
“I will, Mama.” She lowered her cheek to her mother’s shoulder and breathed in the familiar scent of lavender and moth balls.
“Amelia,” her mother said softly. “What are you waiting for?”
Amelia pulled back. “You mean you want me to speak to him now?”
“Why put it off? Besides, I’m tired and want a nap.”
Amelia bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that her mother had only been awake a few hours. She was taking steps in the right direction. Small steps, but steps nonetheless. “Will you tell me more stories about you and Papa when I come back later?”
“Do you like them?”
“I do.” And she liked to see her mother’s smile and her eyes light up.
“Then we’ll speak later.”
Amelia tucked the covers around her and left the room quietly. She hadn’t thought to go seek out Nicholas this morning, but her mother was right. Why put it off? She had only made it halfway down the stairs, though, when a groom came running into the foyer. “My lady!”
Amelia grasped the banister hard. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s your pig, my lady! She’s gone.”
NICHOLAS HEARD THE commotion all the way from his library. He’d been reviewing ledgers and attending to correspondence, something he did almost daily in order to keep the estate running and ensure his brother was apprised of what was needed at Battle’s Peak. But he could hardly concentrate with all the shouting. By the time he stood up, had a grip on his walking stick, and had made it around the desk, the shouting had ceased.