charge of all the formalities. I was alone, disgraced, deflowered, and not even afforded the status of widow or access to such funds as a widow enjoys. Then too, my mother’s health had failed, and I foresaw the rest of my life, alone in that house, with Wilton’s criticisms and castigations my daily fare.”
Nick’s hands slid to either side of her neck, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. He showed her a few birdhouses, and she trusted him with her darkest memories.
“Promise me”—he gripped her gently but quite firmly—“promise me no matter what happens between us, Leah, you won’t let this marriage make you so miserable you think of taking your own life.”
She laid her hands on his and peeled his fingers away. “I was young, feeling sorry for myself, and grieving. I promise you, I will not contemplate such measures, not as a function of being married to you.”
“Not as a function of anything,” Nick shot back. “You are too… You just… It wouldn’t be right.”
“I agree,” Leah said, resuming their progress. “I saw that, when my son died. Life can be difficult, but death is difficult too. Had I taken my life, all of my brothers’ sacrifices and risks would have been for nothing. My mother’s heart would have been broken, my sister disgraced by my suicide. I had no right to hurt the people who loved me like that. Worse, at least at the time, taking my life would have proved Wilton’s assessment of my flawed nature all too true, and that, more than anything, dissuaded me.”
“And who raised this most convincing argument to you?” Nick asked, letting her draw him along beside her.
“Darius. Sometimes his ruthless streak is really a strength.”
“May I ask you something?” And, please God, change the subject?
“Of course.”
“Has your brother ever given you the impression that he has unusual personal tastes?”
A moment of considering silence followed, in which Nick congratulated himself for at least shifting the topic.
“Not exactly,” Leah said, “but it’s as if Darius associates with a fast set despite his own preferences.”
“A very fast set,” Nick concurred. “The question is, why?”
“To disgrace my father? Or because that’s all Darius feels he merits in this life? Because it’s a way to be different from Trent, who can be a dull boy indeed? I don’t know, and it’s not something a sister should know about her brother.”
“Maybe not in your family,” Nick said as they gained the back steps. “My sisters seem to know every lady to whom I’ve given a handkerchief.”
Leah fell silent, and just like that, they were surrounded once again by a marital bog, one enshrouded in a fog of hurt feelings and miscommunication.
And yet, Nick had to try. “I didn’t mean that I’d… I meant, literally, a clean handkerchief. I always carry at least two, you see, and… you don’t believe me.”
“I believe I have enjoyed spending time with you this morning, but it’s past noon. Luncheon probably awaits us as we speak.”
“Excellent point,” Nick said, wanting to kick himself. “Shall we go in?”
They ate companionably enough, the conversation turning to which neighbors lived where in proximity to Clover Down.
“What will you find to occupy you this afternoon?” Nick asked as he topped off Leah’s teacup.
“The rest of my things have arrived,” Leah said. “I’ll see them situated and start exploring the house.”
“Sounds productive. I’m going for a ride. The trusty steeds in yonder stable are getting fat on spring grass, and this I cannot allow. I’ll be back by teatime, and look forward to seeing you then.” He rose, brushed his lips across her forehead, then took his leave.
Leah would notice that her new husband hadn’t invited her to join him on his ride. Nick knew that, hated it, and headed off to the stables at the most decorous pace he could manage. Once there, only a gentleman’s unwillingness to spook the horses stopped him from slamming both fists into the wall, repeatedly.
***
So that’s her.
Leah had taken herself out walking in the afternoon sunshine as soon as her meager wardrobe had been set to rights. The weather was lovely, and Leah had had little opportunity to move around the previous few days, so she’d struck off through the gardens and aimed for the hill behind the estate.
The acclivity was crowned with trees at the top, a pretty copse that was leafing out nicely, the occasional patch of lavender-blue wildflowers dancing at the foot of the trees, as if laughing in the dappled sunlight.