Chapter Seventeen
“Good morning, Sarah,” Nathaniel said, walking into the breakfast room.
“Good morning, my lord.”
Sarah cleared her throat, then did it a second time when Nathaniel took his seat without looking up.
“Miss P—Frances,” Nathaniel said, finding her already seated across from him.
“Good morning, my lord. Sarah was kind enough to show me the way this morning.”
“She is very thoughtful,” Nathaniel said, surprised.
Not that he’d expected Frances to spend the day in bed, but he hadn’t been able to sleep—hardly a new occurrence—and it was not fashionable to be up this early.
But it looked like Frances had already finished her first cup of tea.
“What do you normally have for breakfast?”
“An egg. And black tea. Though Mrs. Brown, our cook, often slipped a treat on my plate once Mama wasn’t looking.”
It wasn’t the first time he noticed her smile at the mention of their family cook, not just in reference to her food.
“She’s the one whose husband made you the greenhouse?” he asked, spreading jam onto his toast, careful not to get any on his sleeve. This was why he liked to take breakfast in his study, before getting fully dressed for the day. Stevens usually prepared it for him, knowing exactly what he wanted.
Instead of answering, Frances was looking at him, her brow furrowed.
“You mentioned it—”
“At the Sampson ball,” she remembered. “I didn’t realize you would—” She cut herself off and answered his first statement as if the rest hadn’t happened. “Yes, her husband built it, and taught me how to grow things. Vegetables, mostly, but it was perfect for flowers as well.”
“That’s an odd hobby for a young lady,” Nathaniel remarked.
“I…yes, of course.” Her face dropped. “My mother has already made it quite clear that muddy fingernails are not suitable for a woman of any station. Rest assured I won’t be doing any more of it.”
“Perhaps not at a dinner party.” Nathaniel grinned until he caught her eye and got her to do the same. “But I see no reason to deprive yourself of something that makes you happy. Assuming you wash occasionally, of course.”
“My mother—”
“Has no power over you here. You are the lady of Sutton House. Everyone here is yours to direct.” He would never make that offer to someone like her older sister, Iris, or even to Grace without some caveats, but he doubted Frances would abuse such power.
“Everyone?” she asked.
He had to look up and confirm she was teasing him, her tone light and playful, though he could see the nervous flush spreading as she bit her bottom lip. He caught himself staring and imitating her, so he forced himself to look away.
“On some matters, I doubt even I would be able to argue,” he assured her.
Frances’ heart was in her throat as they left the breakfast room for her tour of Sutton House.
She’d teased Nathaniel, as she would only dare with Mrs. Brown, or maybe Daisy.
The rest of her life would go by more pleasantly if the two of them were friends, would it not?
But then he’d smiled at her, and she’d wanted to keep teasing him forever, if only he’d always look at her like that.
It was dangerous though, for her heart. She was almost grateful he’d turned away and ended the moment.
Better to stay amicable than to keep stroking those feelings.
“And this is the ballroom, though it hasn’t been used in some time,” Nathaniel said.
The room was the size of the Plimptons’ house, and although the staff would never allow it to get dusty, surfaces were covered in sheets, the curtains were drawn, and the best word to describe the once magnificent ballroom was gloomy.
If Nathaniel noticed, he didn’t mention it as they moved on to explore the library, the sitting room, the parlour, the conservatory, and the many bedrooms upstairs.
“The ones down that hallway are for guests, but these are used by the family. We can go inside if you wish, but—”
“I wouldn’t want to invade their privacy,” she assured him.
“I doubt they’d mind much. James stays occasionally, but we’re so rarely in the city, and when we are, everyone usually stays at Wiltshire Manor.”
“Except for you?” Frances asked, his sisters having mentioned as much.
“I used to have bachelor lodgings, like James, but it felt wasteful when the house was here, empty, and rightfully mine, with a staff bored out of their minds. This was easier.”
“Is it your primary residence?” Frances tried to remove the judgement or accusation from her tone, but she was struck, repeatedly, by how dark and empty the house felt.
She hadn’t noticed last night, as her chambers had been prepared for her and it was nighttime, but other than his study and the areas to receive guests in, everything was depressing.
“During the season, when I must attend the House of Lords, yes. Though even then, I try to get back to the country as often as I can.”
“Your siblings live there with you?” She was careful not to sound too eager for their company.
“Teddy is at sea most of the time, Harry is at Eton, and Elizabeth has her own properties, but I believe we all still consider it home.”
He looked at her in an odd way, unfitting with the happy nostalgia of his words, until she realized he was waiting for her to say something, to see if she would accept such an arrangement.
Part of him even looked afraid, and probably regretted not discussing it sooner.
No one would ever be able to force him to kick them out, she was sure of it, but a jealous, cold-hearted, overly ambitious wife could easily make his and their lives hell.
Did marrying a guardian also make her a guardian?
“I’m anxious to see it. And you all together there. Judging by the few meals we’ve shared at Wiltshire Manor, your country estate must be the happiest place on Earth. Suttons in their natural habitat, without restrictions or unwanted guests.”
Except me, of course, she thought to herself.
“Most of high society prefer the bustle of the city, but my heart yearns for the peace and quiet of the country.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Peace and quiet from bothersome strangers, politics, and gossip,” he specified. “Though you’re right, my family is a boisterous handful of the best kind.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” He smiled. “I assume your sister will want to stay in London for the season, but your fam—she is always welcome at Lark Estate.”
“Are my parents not?” Frances was more surprised that he would own up to it than upset, as Nathaniel was nothing if not a gentleman. Denying his in-laws an invitation certainly went against that.
“You may invite whomever you please, and they shall be welcomed to the best of my abilities. But you once begged me not to lie.”
“And you’re honoring that.”
“The Lark Estate holds happy memories and the innocence of childhood. It was a safe and happy place for me growing up, which is how I hope it will always be. Your father, specifically, interferes with those happy feelings,” he admitted. “Unless you’d prefer—”
“No, I very much appreciate it. And my parents hate nature, so unless you invite prominent figures they want to rub elbows with, you should be safe from their visits.” She smiled brightly.
“Well, that’s the house. The yard can wait for less inclement weather, if you’re amenable.”
“Of course.”
“I have business to attend to in the study, but feel free to explore or read or whatever ladies do.”
“Have we any engagements?”
“Not for the next few days.”
She could have sworn she saw him blush, because he knew as well as she did what they were supposed to be using these days for.
He excused himself then, so she set off to find Stevens.
Nathaniel shut the door with more force than he’d intended, basically slamming it, then went to pour himself a generous glass of brandy.
He would give anything to have his parents back, but he had friends who ignored and complained about theirs.
He severely judged them for it, because mediocre parents were better than dead ones, but seeing the number Mr. and Mrs. Plimpton did on Frances…
She should be enough to warrant visits. She should have damn well been trusted to find herself a husband on her own merits instead of tricking her into trapping one. His blood boiled at the thought of his in-laws and the realization that in some cases, no parents would have been better.
Nathaniel made the decision then and there to never invite anyone remotely interesting—society-wise—to Lark Estate, so he would never be forced to let the Plimptons into the place that represented love and family to him.