She gave the marquess a quelling look, and he stepped back. Just behind him, Nicholas spotted Mr. and Mrs. Kentworth, Florentia, two more footmen, and a groom and the coachman. Nicholas would be damned if he wasn’t well and truly caught.
Miss Blackstock seemed to come to her senses first. She jumped to her feet, placing herself between her enormous pig and the onlookers. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, my lady.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “My lord. Mr. and Mrs. Kentworth—and er, my lady. And you, my lady.”
Nicholas wanted to put a hand to his face. The whole house had come to the stable.
“I just came to collect my pig. I’ll be on my way now.” And she actually tried to scoot around his mother and brother. The dowager held up a hand, and that was all it took to stall Miss Blackstock’s progress.
“Not so fast, Miss—?”
“Blackstock,” Mrs. Kentworth supplied.
The dowager’s fiery gaze narrowed then focused on Nicholas, who was trying to set his walking stick upright so he could grasp it and haul himself up. It would have been an awkward and painful process if his brother hadn’t stepped forward, offered his hand, and hauled Nicholas up, saving him the embarrassing struggle.
“Explain yourself,” his mother demanded.
Nicholas thought the explanation was rather obvious for anyone to see. They’d all seen him kissing Miss Blackstock. If he had been thinking about anything besides her lovely hair and her large eyes and her...other assets, this would never have happened. He would have known the party would come for him.
He had indeed been hiding in the stable. Mr. and Mrs. Kentworth had been so careful in their speech to him, apologizing once when they only mentioned the word battle in reference to their children. He’d withstood the pity in their eyes as long as he could, and then he’d fled to the one place in the world he felt he was not judged—among his horses.
When the pig had snuffled in, interrupting his solitude, Nicholas had known it was growing late and the Kentworths would want their carriage soon. The grooms and coachman knew better than to disturb him, so he would have to come out soon so the horses and carriage could be readied. But just as he was about to do so, Miss Blackstock had come in.
And then Nicholas had forgotten about everything but her. She’d been windswept from her brisk walk, her cheeks pink from the night air. Her hair was down about her shoulders in delicious waves of amber that gleamed in the lamplight. He couldn’t stop staring at that hair. He wondered how it would feel in his hands, and he could imagine it was as slick as silk.
If it was just her hair or her eyes that had entranced him, he might have been able to think clearly. But once again, he was drawn into conversation with her. It had been three years at least since he had flirted with a woman, and he would have sworn he had forgotten how. But with Miss Blackstock, it came so easily. She didn’t look at him with the pity that had weighed him down in the dining room. She looked at him as though he was a man—a man she desired.
Of course, she had mentioned his leg, but when she did so it was in a matter-of-fact manner. She didn’t feel sorry for him or treat him like an invalid. She treated him like he was whole and undamaged.
And then she’d tottered against him and they’d both lost their balance, and suddenly he was on the ground with a beautiful woman in his arms. She was soft and smelled of crisp green apples and enticing woman. And when he met her gaze and she teased him with the promise of forward behavior, he couldn’t resist. He knew he should resist. In the back of his mind a clock was ticking away the minutes and seconds until the Kentworth coach would be needed, but it had been so long since he’d had a woman in his arms that that incessant ticking was difficult to remember.
Most likely the grooms had started to come in and then noted he was not alone and slipped back out again. When the requested carriage did not appear at the house to take the Kentworths home, his mother, who was impatient and bad-tempered when her wishes were not quickly fulfilled, had led the whole party to the stable to see the task done herself.
Nicholas didn’t need to have been there to know exactly how it happened. And now he had ruined Miss Blackstock.
He would have to marry her.
“Mama,” Henry said, the head of the household as always. “The Kentworths must be tired and ready for their beds. Perhaps we could speak of this later.” What he really meant was privately. No need to discuss this personal matter in front of neighbors and staff.
“Of course, Averstow,” she said, using his brother’s title. “Lord Nicholas and you, come inside.” She pointed at Miss Blackstock who looked like she wanted nothing more than to escape along with the Kentworths.
Miss Blackstock followed behind the dowager, the marquess and marchioness, and Nicholas. His sister, Florentia, fell into step beside her. Nicholas heard her whisper. “Don’t look so worried. Everything will be fine.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Miss Blackstock muttered. Then more loudly, she said, “Come, Sweetie!” The grooms all made way, as did the Kentworths, as the pig and Miss Blackstock left the stable. Outside, the family bid farewell to the Kentworths, who were assured their coach would be ready momentarily. But as the rest of the party started back for the house, Miss Blackstock slowed. “I should take my leave. It’s late and—”
“Come inside,” the dowager said, and her tone made even Nicholas hesitant to disobey.
Obviously, Miss Blackstock did not realize the danger she was in because she shook her head. “Thank you, but my pig—”
“Can wait in the kitchen,” the dowager said, her tone brooking no argument. “Come inside or I will have you carried bodily.”
Miss Blackstock’s expression was mutinous, but she gave a stiff nod. “I suppose I could stop in for a moment.”
Florentia patted her shoulder, and the family went inside, the dowager leading the way to the drawing room. When they were inside, she moved in front of the footman, shooed him out, and looked back at the party. “Lady Averstow and Florentia, you may go to bed.”
“But Mama!” Florentia said, her tone pleading. She was two years Nicholas’s senior, but she had never married and was a woman, so their mother still treated her as though she were a child of ten.
“Good night, Florentia,” the dowager said, her face stony. Florentia gave Nicholas an apologetic look and left, Lady Averstow right behind her. Mary might have argued her right to stay more successfully, being that she was the marchioness, but no doubt she had little inclination to listen to the lecture her husband and mother-in-law were preparing.
As soon as the ladies were gone, the dowager closed the door with a final thud. Then she turned and glared at Nicholas. “What were you thinking!” she hissed. It wasn’t a question but an accusation.
“Clearly, he was not thinking, Mama,” Henry said.
Nicholas shot him a look of disdain for his lack of loyalty.
“Was this pre-arranged?” his mother asked. “Had you planned this rendezvous?” She looked from Nicholas to Miss Blackstock and back again. Nicholas opened his mouth, but Miss Blackstock spoke first.
“Of course not. I was at the assembly rooms this evening and when I arrived home, I couldn’t find Sweetie.”
“Sweetie is the pig,” Nicholas supplied. “A Gloucestershire Old Spots.”