Chapter Seven
Seven
???
Nicholas led Jane down a path in one of the rare manicured sections of Marstede’s grounds.
The manor sat right on the edge of the Gloaming Forest, and he preferred the wilderness to tame garden beds, so there wasn’t much to explore.
They made it halfway through the gardens in silence, and he realized he would have to be the one to break it.
His mother wanted him to take the month seriously and test whether he could see himself living with any of these women for the rest of his life. He hardly wanted all his marital conversations to suffer from banality, so he eschewed the polite observance about the weather that first occurred to him.
“You make potions?”
Jane blushed. “Nothing extraordinary, my lord. I dabble.”
“Nicholas,” he reminded her. “And, it is what you chose to share about yourself; you must enjoy the activity.”
“I do,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes. “I know ladies who are witches aren’t supposed to admit as much, but I do like magic. My inborn talent is limited to understanding birds—and they don’t say much of interest—but brewing potions is so… limitless.”
“You’ll hear no censure from me. It would be rather hypocritical to say the least.” Nicholas had never hidden that he was a witch, but he also didn’t socialize enough for it to be common knowledge. “I have an earth affinity, myself.”
Jane gasped. “You do?”
“I do. I spend a considerable amount of time in my engraving workshop, too. The manor also has a brewing room, if you’d like to make use of it during your stay.
I’m not sure what state it is in; the last witch with a water affinity in the family was my great-aunt.
Still, it should at least have the basic supplies. ”
“You engrave charms?”
Hadn’t he just said that? “Yes. My power is warding, but I mostly rely on my affinity, too. Marstede produces a great deal of the wood and stone used for charms throughout Sidrea.” Nicholas crafted a great number of charms sold throughout the kingdom, too, but he didn’t mention that.
Jane didn’t look like she could handle hearing just how much he ignored the gentry’s disdain for honest work.
She’d either faint or throw herself at him, and neither was an outcome he wanted to deal with.
Yes, she remained a possibility for a wife, but he highly doubted the coming month would convince him he actually wanted to marry her.
She was pleasant enough, he supposed, but he wasn’t looking for pleasant.
That thought had him frowning. Wasn’t pleasant exactly what he had wanted?
Not now, of course, he still planned to enjoy his two years of solitude, but when the time came.
Except his imagination no longer focused on a vague, bland woman who would fit into his life without disrupting it.
Instead, he saw Sadie across from him at the breakfast table, slowly eating a slice of peach as she argued with him.
It was a disturbingly appealing picture.
“I’m sorry.” Jane bit her lip. “I shouldn’t be asking you such personal questions.”
She thought Nicholas’s frown was for her and not his own wayward thoughts. He tried to smooth over his expression. “I believe getting to know each other is actually the point of this walk. The entire month, in fact. Please don’t feel afraid to ask me questions.”
He meant that, too.
Jane pressed her lips together, not quite looking at him.
“Go ahead and ask.”
“How old are you?” Her cheeks turned scarlet.
Ah yes, the highly embarrassing question of age. “Thirty-two.”
If anything, Jane flushed even brighter. “I am one-and-twenty.”
Jane, Lenora, and Abigail were all young, within a few years of each other.
Sadie, Helen, and Beatrice were a few years older, probably in their mid-to-late twenties.
Nicholas knew plenty of gentlemen who had married women more than a decade younger than themselves, but the thought didn’t particularly appeal to him.
Not when women like Jane felt so painfully young and inexperienced.
In a few years, the differences between them wouldn’t be so pronounced, but he couldn’t see himself marrying a woman who hadn’t even had the opportunity to figure out who she was.
Society didn’t encourage women to develop much of a personality or hobbies beyond the few deemed acceptable. But Nicholas wasn’t society. “Would you like to gather a few ingredients for your potions from the forest?”
She looked over at the darkness between the trees and licked her lips. Then her shoulders rolled back as she nodded. “I’d like that.”
Nicholas smiled. “Then let’s see what we can find.”
He led her into the woods, though he kept them near the edge as they explored the local flora.
Jane recognized very few of the plants and knew less about their magical properties, but she was determined to learn.
It made him reassess his first impression of her.
She’d clearly never been allowed to indulge in her interest in potions.
It must have taken considerable courage to share that love as her one fact about herself.
An hour later, Nicholas led Jane back to the manor, but not the door closest to the lavender sitting room.
“This is supposed to be an herb garden.” He pointed at the collection of weeds.
“But no one has taken charge of it in years. Still, you might find a few more of the most common ingredients growing here.”
He opened the door to the manor, completely unsurprised to find his mother standing just inside, directing servants as they finished tidying the brewing room.
She’d never tell Jane that brewing wasn’t ladylike.
That was one aspect of being a proper lady Madeleine Huxley had swiftly given up after marrying Nicholas’s father.
She wasn’t a witch herself, but she saw nothing wrong with ladies having—and using—magic.
“And here is the brewing room.” As the servants filed out, Nicholas led Jane into the room and set down the fistful of ivy he held on the workbench. “Feel free to make use of anything in here, and ask any of the staff if there is something you require and can’t find.”
“Thank you, Nicholas!”
It had taken most of the hour for her to say his name without stammering, but all in all, he rather thought their walk had gone well. Jane would enjoy her month in Marstede, and he didn’t have to feel guilty that she had come all this way when he had no intention of ever marrying her.
He left her to explore the brewing room and joined his mother in the hall. She kissed his cheek, tucked her arm through his and towed him down the hall. “You did well, Nicholas. That girl’s family is determined she is their ticket to a title and allows her no freedom to be herself.”
“I am happy to provide her with freedom for the month, but don’t expect me to give her a title, Mother.”
“No making a decision until the end of the month, Nicky.”
“I am keeping an open mind, but that doesn’t mean my opinions will change.”
“Helen is waiting for you in the sitting room.”
Nicholas scowled. “Unless she suddenly opens her mind on the topic of magic, she will never be my wife.”
His mother patted his arm. “Yes, her reaction took me by surprise. I’ll have a word with her. I’m sure she’ll see reason.”
Nicholas didn’t doubt his mother’s ability to change Helen’s attitude toward magic, but he didn’t think that would alter his opinion of the woman. She was simply too bland. Too willing to be exactly what others expected of her.
“Oh,” Madeleine said, as if a thought had just occurred to her—though she’d likely planned out this entire conversation. “No locking yourself in your study this evening. I want us all to gather in the parlor. We can play cards. Perhaps you can play a game of chess with one of the ladies.”
He raised a brow. “Perhaps?”
“Well, I didn’t ask if any of them know how to play, but I’m sure you can explain the rules. Your father always said playing chess against someone was more informative than an entire day’s worth of conversation.”
“Indeed. Does that mean I am excused for a day for every game of chess I play?”
His mother didn’t bother to answer, unhooking her arm from his at the next corridor. “I’ll see you at supper, Nicky.”
She turned left, and he went right, toward the lavender sitting room.
But as he passed the back staircase, he saw someone that had him detouring.
She wasn’t one of the guests, nor any of his servants.
She could have been one of the maids that accompanied the ladies, except Nicholas recognized her.
At least, in that brief second that she was in view, he thought he had recognized her.
He took the steps two at a time, hoping to catch another glimpse, and reached the second floor just in time to see her enter one of the guest rooms. He hadn’t been mistaken.
That had been Pippa Leander, the daughter of the tavern-keepers in Lamsdel.
Nicholas had visited the establishment enough over the years to recognize her.
And he’d bet his entire estate the room she’d just entered was the one assigned to Miss Sadie Pentry.
???
“Explain.” Pippa waited in the center of the sitting room of Sadie’s assigned guest suite, her arms crossed and her toe tapping.
Sadie closed the door and moved to the nearest chair. “What were you told?”
“That the dowager baroness was hosting many visitors and had invited both of us to help at the manor for the next month. Then I got here and Maisie informed me that I would be helping as a lady’s maid. And that the lady I’m serving is you. She neglected to explain how you ended up as a guest.”