Chapter 21
Twenty-One
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Nicholas really hoped he’d learn something interesting about Sadie in Lamsdel, because that might be the only thing that would keep him from running into the forest screaming after spending so much time with Abigail.
The woman alternated between flirting with no subtlety whatsoever and insulting him in the same breath.
She sat as close to him in his curricle as her crinoline allowed, then complained that he ought to have a larger barouche. He declined to explain that the barouche his mother preferred was the vehicle transporting Lenora home.
Nicholas liked his curricle. Though he wouldn’t mind being on the driver’s bench of the barouche right now, with Abigail in the back by herself.
He wondered just how much trouble he’d be in if he erected a ward between himself and the handsy woman at his side.
Abigail had gone beyond batting her eyelashes at him and kept touching him.
A press of her fingers to his arm soon became her entire side pasted against his. Then she rested her hand on his thigh.
There was a knowing, calculating look in her eyes. If it were Jane, he might have assumed she really was just trying to keep her balance, but Abigail’s actions were in no way innocent.
Nor were they in any way tempting.
He decided the best course was to pretend he didn’t even notice. Let her stew over how little she affected him.
He couldn’t thank the spirits enough when Lamsdel finally came into view.
Yes, he still had to escort Abigail to the limited shops, but there’d be other people around, and hopefully spending some of Nicholas’s money—he understood what was expected on this outing—would distract her from trying to seduce him.
“This is the bigger village?” Abigail scoffed as they made their way to the inn, where Nicholas would leave his curricle and horses.
“As you can see. It is at least half again the size of Valway.”
She huffed. “The shops aren’t going to be any better here, are they?”
“They won’t be up to Linzen standards, but they serve their purpose.
And there is a fine goods shop here. The lilac soap you are using comes from that shop.
” In fact, one of Nicholas’s footmen had needed to visit Ferman’s Exotic Goods no less than three times since Abigail had arrived to acquire some specialty item she “simply couldn’t live without. ”
“I suppose we’d better start there, then.”
Nicholas pulled his curricle to a halt and waited for a stable hand to come out. Handing over the reins and a half silver, he hopped down. Then he forced himself to turn back and help Abigail climb out.
“We’ll be back before supper,” he told the man taking charge of his horses, delaying the moment he had to accept the woman on his arm.
He nodded. “We’ll have them rested up and ready to go, my lord.”
“Thank you.” There were no more delays to be had. Nicholas winged out his arm, unsurprised when Abigail clung to him instead of just resting her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“Which way to this fine goods shop?”
“This way.” Nicholas turned them left out of the inn’s coach yard and led her down the main street.
It took less than a minute to reach the door of Ferman’s Exotic Goods.
He opened it, a bell tinkling above to announce their arrival, and managed to extract his arm as Abigail stepped inside and sneered.
She had enough time to give the entire space a disdainful once-over and approach the nearest display table before Mr. Ferman hustled out of a back room.
“Sorry, sorry, we’re short-staffed at the moment. I apologize for the wait.” The owner of the shop called out without even looking at them. Then he pulled up short when he recognized Nicholas. “Lord Marstede! You honor my shop with your presence. How may I help you and your lady?”
His lady? Nicholas shuddered internally at the notion of Abigail holding that title. “Abigail wanted to browse the fine products you have for sale. I’ll let her tell you what she is looking for.”
“Of course, of course.” Mr. Ferman turned to her. “What can Ferman’s Exotic Goods do for you today, Lady Abigail?”
Abigail and Mr. Ferman were a matched set of supercilious customer and obsequious shop owner. They went around the store completely engrossed in convincing each other that the goods were too low quality and only the best and most rare items to be found anywhere outside of Linzen, respectively.
Nicholas stood by the door, happy to be forgotten by both, until he heard Mr. Ferman mention Marstede.
“Oh yes,” the shopkeeper was saying, “I was horrified to think any of Lady Marstede’s guests would have to do without such a basic comfort.
I sent Miss Winsel to the manor as soon as I found the soap.
She’d be here to help you today, but Lady Marstede was so impressed she requested Miss Winsel stay on for the month to help the servants.
That’s why no one was out here to greet you when you came in. ”
Miss Winsel. A shop assistant from Lamsdel who had been sent to Marstede to deliver soap the night Abigail had arrived. Well, that explained Sadie’s appearance at his kitchen door. And her annoyance when he told her to leave.
His mother’s motives were a little harder to pierce.
Nicholas almost walked over and interrupted, needing to be sure.
Wanting to ask if Miss Winsel’s given name was Sadie.
Then he realized what that would reveal to Abigail.
She had no idea the names or origins of any of the servants in his home and wouldn’t know one way or another if a Miss Winsel was among them, but she’d recognize the name Sadie.
Suddenly Nicholas was afraid what might be revealed in any random conversation now that he was in Lamsdel with Abigail. He didn’t care who Sadie’s family really was, but Abigail would. And if she learned of his mother and Sadie’s subterfuge, she would raise vengeful spirits in retaliation.
If the truth came out, then Sadie might leave Marstede early.
Oh, Nicholas had no intention of letting her disappear from his life, and Lamsdel wasn’t far, but he also had no intention of letting her put any extra distance between them if he could help it.
He held his tongue—the conversation was already veering back to the shop’s products rather than employees—and planned how to get Abigail out of Lamsdel without talking to any of the other villagers.
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An overcast sky did all the convincing Nicholas needed.
He knew the rain wouldn’t hit until later that evening at the earliest, but Abigail didn’t.
She trusted his urgency when they stepped out of the fine goods store, several parcels in tow, and looked up to gray skies rather than blue.
Thank the spirits for summer storms that darkened the skies hours before they hit.
He had them back in the curricle and on the road home without her exchanging a word with a single person other than Mr. Ferman.
Sadie’s secrets were safe.
Once back at Marstede, he dropped Abigail off at the front door and drove his curricle around to the stables himself. He didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for a second longer. At least tonight at supper she wouldn’t dare to put her hands on him.
Though tempted to linger and help curry the horses, a task he’d been known to take over from his stable hands on many an occasion, Nicholas risked heading back into the manor. He and his mother were overdue for a talk.
His mother apparently shared the same opinion, for her maid, Maisie, was waiting for him by the door closest to the stables with a summons to his mother’s sitting room.
“I’m so glad you made it back before supper.” She greeted him, accepting the kiss he placed on her cheek before gesturing for him to take a seat. “I was afraid that girl was going to try to trap you in Lamsdel for the meal.”
Nicholas sat. “I managed to convince her we risked getting stuck in a downpour.”
“A gamble. I wouldn’t put it past her to use that as an excuse to insist you both stay at the inn for the night.”
Nicholas raised a brow. “Because that would be so much worse than having her sleep in my room at the manor?”
“My presence as a chaperone does offer you a level of protection you wouldn’t have in Lamsdel.”
“Your protection is a double-edged sword, Mother. Couldn’t you have at least warned me that you’d be inviting the women to stay in my bed ahead of time?”
“Of course not. Then you’d have had time to clear out your room, which defeats the entire purpose.”
“There’s a purpose? I was beginning to suspect you were just getting bored and decided to amuse yourself at my expense.”
“That’s only a secondary benefit.” His mother pointed at a folded handkerchief on the table in front of him. “That is the real purpose of this step in the process.”
Nicholas leaned forward and flicked the kerchief open. In the center sat five dried peas. He studied their wrinkled forms.
“I don’t follow.”
“You need those.”
Not sure he wanted to know the answer, he still asked, “Why?”
“To hide in your room, of course.”
“Naturally. I should have realized immediately that I was supposed to hide vegetables in my room.”
“It’s the test.”
The more his mother explained, the more confused Nicholas became. “What test?”
“The test for the women. You’ll hide the peas, varying how hard you make each to find, and place a trip-wire ward around each. Then in the morning, you’ll know how much your guest snooped.”
“Mother, you essentially invited them to snoop when you set up this ridiculous thing.”
“Obviously. But it will be interesting to see who will find all the peas, and how carefully they hide their investigations, won’t it?”
Nicholas swiped the handkerchief from the table, peas and all.
He still thought the entire scheme was ridiculous, but his mother had a point.
He was curious how each woman would go about rummaging through his things.
Since he had to let them into his room now, he might as well hide the peas and ward them first.
“Fine, I’ll play your game, but I need you to do me a favor in return.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to schedule Jane for tomorrow’s date with a baron and convince her to do something outside of the brewing room.”
“Jane?”
It was rare that Nicholas surprised his mother, and he savored the feeling for a moment before replying. “Jane. No questions, and I’ll even tell you what I find out about the peas each morning.”
“Oh fine, but you’ll have to go back to Lamsdel.” His mother said after giving him a considering look. “Shopping for ingredients that we don’t grow on the estate is the only way we’ll get Jane out of the brewing room.”
“Then you might want to check with Miss Winsel if the herbalist is likely to mention her temporary employment at Marstede—especially if he is likely to use her first name.”
For the second time that afternoon, he surprised his mother. She pursed her lips together. “Oh spirits, I should have considered that. I suppose you would have mentioned it if Abigail had learned of Sadie’s origins?”
“Her secret is safe for now, but visiting Lamsdel is a risk.”
“If you aren’t going to Ferman’s or the tavern, it shouldn’t be too bad, but I will double-check with Sadie about the herbalist.”
He stood, walked around the table, and leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek once more. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll go hide the peas now.”