Nicholas swore, decided not to go into the foyer and ask questions, and had just settled back into his chair when he happened to glance through his window. The view was of the stables and barn, and a dark green dress came into view, the skirts whipping in the wind and rain.
“What the devil?”
He looked again and swore. Why was Amelia out in the rain? She hadn’t even donned a coat or taken an umbrella. He doubted she’d changed her slippers for boots, and she must be sinking to her ankles in mud. He’d sink to his ankles in mud as well if he went out there. He wouldn’t really be any use, but he stood again and made his slow trek out of the library and into the elements. Of course, he’d paused long enough to grab a coat and umbrella. He already wore boots as he’d been in the stables earlier that morning.
He made his way toward the barns, making sure to stay away from the mud puddles. He was almost there when Bowen noticed him and rushed over. “My lord, I am glad to see you,” the stablemaster said. “Would you please talk some sense into Lady Nicholas? No disrespect to her, but we have everything in hand.”
“What seems to be the problem? Why is she out in this weather?”
“One of the grooms, my lord. He’s new and young, and I think he has a slight infatuation for Lady Nicholas. He ran in to tell her that her pig was missing.”
Nicholas swore.
“Exactly, my lord. You know how much she loves that pig.”
“I suppose she wants to help look for her.”
“She does, but I told her I already sent a few men out. They’ll find her and bring her back. If nothing else, she’s a pig. She’ll be fine on her own for a few hours and will come back when she’s hungry.”
“Where is Lady Nicholas now?” Nicholas asked.
“In the stable trying to convince the grooms to saddle a horse.”
Nicholas nodded and started that way. “My lord, it’s a bit muddy,” Bowen said, stating the obvious.
“I’ll make it.” He had to. With determination, he fought his way to the stable, almost losing his balance several times. He was glad to step inside, even if it was only to hear his wife barking orders at his grooms.
“—saddle a horse immediately, I shall do it myself. Then when I fall and break my neck, my death will be on you.”
“No, it won’t,” Nicholas said.
She spun around, and the sight of her was worse than he’d feared. She was pale and her lips tinged blue. She was soaked through and shivering in her thin dress. “Lord Nicholas, Sweetie—”
“I heard,” he said. “Bowen tells me we have men out looking for her.”
“But they don’t know where she likes to roam. I do. I must go and look for her.”
“Not in this weather, you won’t.”
He saw her jaw tighten and though he didn’t know her well, any man or woman would recognize the look of determination that came over her face then. He knew exactly what she would do next. She’d forego the horse and go on foot. Unless he could stop her.
And there was only one way he could think of to stop her.
Damn it.
Nicholas released the walking stick and made a show of falling. He fell on his good side, of course, so he could control it, but the jolt still hurt when he landed on the wooden slats of the stable.
“My lord!” As predicted, she ran to him, kneeling at his side and grabbing hold of his arm. “Are you hurt?”
Pretending to be annoyed, Nicholas pushed her arm away. Damn and bloody damn. She was even colder than he’d anticipated. The bare skin of her forearm was like ice. “I’m fine.” He didn’t have to pretend to struggle to rise, but for once he did want her assistance.
“Should I fetch the doctor, my lord?” the groom asked.
“No. Get back to your work. I’m perfectly fine.”
“May I help you to your feet?” Amelia asked.
He grunted and grudgingly accepted her help to stand. He could do it on his own, just needed something stable to help him regain his balance. Amelia had her arm about his waist and felt remarkably stable at his side. She tried to move away, to reach for his walking stick, but he held her tightly to his side. She was definitely shivering, and he needed to get her inside and in front of a fire as soon as possible. “My stick,” he said, pointing to the groom. The lad swept it up.
Amelia didn’t try to disengage from him, but she looked up and said, “If you are steadier now, I will go look for Sweetie.”
He’d thought she would at least see him into the house before he had to play his next card. No such luck. “Do you—would you—” He did not have to pretend to stumble over his words. Even when it was a calculated move, he hated asking for assistance. “Walk inside with me.” He thought he’d better soften the order. “Would you?”
“I—” She looked through the open door of the stable, probably toward the direction she thought Sweetie might have taken, but she must have also seen how muddy the ground had become and how hard the rain was still falling. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you settled then go out.”
They started back toward the house, Nicholas using his walking stick, but also keeping Amelia right at his side. He wanted to warm her, but he also liked the feel of her tucked against him. “You should put on boots before you go back out,” he said. “And a coat.”
“You’re right. I forget how these summer storms bring a blast of cold air with them. My grandmama always said they blow down from Scotland.”
“The weather will warm once the sun comes back out, but my father always cautioned that we’d catch our death of cold if we traipsed about in wet clothes.” The marquess had never said any such thing, but he’d heard it somewhere. Might as well throw more ammunition Amelia’s way.
“A coat will have to be enough,” she said. “I have to find Sweetie.”
“Surely she is adapted to this sort of weather. And with all the mud puddles, she’ll probably be enjoying one right now.”
“It’s a myth that pigs are dirty,” she said as they neared the house. Nicholas had never been so glad to be close to home. “They only wallow in mud on hot days to cool off. It’s chilly today, and she’d have no reason to seek out mud.”
Nicholas supposed he had known this, being that he’d spent much of his life at Battle’s Peak. But he’d really only ever cared about the horses. Other animals were always about, of course, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them.
“The mud certainly does give them a dirty appearance,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but they are actually quite clean. Did you know that pigs prefer to eliminate away from their eating and sleeping area? It was far easier to train Sweetie to go outside for her needs than any dog we ever had. Pigs are as smart as dogs, you know,” she said, seeming to warm to her subject. “You can teach them tricks and commands, but their intelligence also has a downside.”
“Does it?” he asked as they entered the foyer.
“Yes. Sweetie has always been very good at managing latches and gates. That’s the reason we gave up keeping her in the barn at night. As soon as she was big enough, she managed to open the door to Catmint Cottage, and we’d find her curled up in my room every morning. Of course, she never learned to close the door, so if we didn’t want our door standing open all night, we thought it would be easier just to bring her inside from the start.”