One
???
“What about LadyMariah?” Nicholas’s mother lowered her teacup gently, the porcelain not making even the slightest clink as it hit the saucer. Her voice was just as calm and collected as her movements, but that meant little. Lady Madeleine Huxley, Dowager Baroness of Marstede, wielded her poise as effectively as a dagger. Her skills were generally wasted on this estate in the wilds, but Nicholas appreciated that she spent the majority of her time at Marstede instead of the city.
Usually.
He stopped in the middle of spreading marmalade on his toast, praying to every spirit he could name that she was not bringing up the one topic he hated. Again. “Lady Mariah?”
“The Count of Kalesan’s youngest.”
His breath escaped in a relieved sigh, and he continued preparing his toast. Nicholas didn’t know what his mother was talking about, but it wasn’tthat. She had the habit of leaping into the middle of conversations and expecting everyone around her to catch up. But if Mariah was Kalesan’s youngest, then she was still a child. Therefore, they weren’t jumping into the same argument they’d had more than a dozen times before.
“What about her?” Nicholas took his first bite of breakfast, prepared to listen to whatever gossip his mother wanted toshare, though he couldn’t care less about the foibles of the ladies and gentlemen at court.
“She’d make a splendid wife, don’t you think?”
He spluttered, and only his hastily constructed ward prevented crumbs from flying clear across the table. He had celebrated too soon. Nicholas coughed, then gulped his tea, not caring that it scalded the roof of his mouth. His mother waited patiently, as if she didn’t see the crumbs piled at the base of the translucent ward he still held between them. As if she hadn’t said anything outrageous.
The barrier of magic, stretching up from the surface of the polished cedar table in a shimmering wave of blue, didn’t protect Nicholas from his mother’s words, but he was reluctant to lower it. Like a child convinced a certain blanket would keep him safe from demons at night, he wanted to believe the magic could stave off matchmaking.
He waited until he could breathe again, then dropped the ward and glared at his mother. “Isn’t she fifteen?”
“Sixteen, dear, and a lovely girl.”
“I’m sure she is. But not only have I told you that I am not ready to marry, I am certainly not marrying a child.”
Nicholas would have to secure an heir at some point. He had no siblings, or even first cousins, to leave his title to. But not yet. Not for several years, if he had his way. He had nothing against children, but a wife? No, thank you.
Lady Marstede took another sip of her tea and tilted her head, as if mulling over her son’s objection. The morning sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the breakfast room glinted on the strands of silver mixed in equally with her once golden hair. She’d probably done it on purpose, Nicholas thought in irritation. A reminder that she was getting older. What Nicholas didn’t understand was why she had brought upLady Mariah. His mother might be desperate for him to marry, but she couldn’t actually expect—or want—him to marry a child.
“Well then, what about Lady Angelica?”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. So, that was her game. Propose an outrageous match first in hopes that he’d cling to a better option. Not that Angelica was a better option. He shuddered. Lady Angelica was beautiful and knew how to charm, but she was also a spoiled brat who’d do nothing as his baroness but spend money and complain that she couldn’t spend more.
She’d take one look at the abundance of glow-glyphs in place of candles and the large heat-glyphs in every fireplace and assume Nicholas had money to waste. Marstede was hardly impoverished, but that was due to careful management. As for the glyph-inscribed luxuries, that was his passion. He didn’t buy them, but carved them himself.
“I’m not marrying Lady Angelica, either. We’ve been through this, Mother.”
“Nicholas Bennett Huxley.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown man. You aren’t going to bully me into getting married simply by using my full name.”
“You are right. You are a grown man. One who shouldn’t need to be bullied into doing his duty to his title to marry and secure an heir.”
“Technically, I don’t need to marry first,” Nicholas pointed out, just to be contrary. “I can adopt. Or figure out which of my second or third cousins ought to get the estate.”
She set her teacup down, and this time even the silver spoon on the table next to it rattled. If he tried that, the porcelain would shatter, or at the very least tea would splash everywhere. His mother truly was talented. “It isn’t just about securing an heir. The marriage itself is just as important.”
“I’m not that old, Mother. I have time.”
“If I don’t intervene, you will still be unwed by forty.” She sighed. “I don’t understand why you are so averse to marriage, Nicky.”
Ah, they were moving from the stern parent dealing with a recalcitrant child to the sad mother who just wanted her baby to be happy. She simply couldn’t understand that he was happier alone.
Nicholas took another bite of toast, taking his time chewing and swallowing before answering. He would not let his mother bully him into making a decision that would affect the rest of his life. “Because it is a duty and nothing more. I’m not looking forward to welcoming a stranger into my home, and I have no desire to do so any earlier than necessary.”
Marstede was his sanctuary—when his mother wasn’t pestering him to get married. Unfortunately, she’d brought up the topic more and more often in the two years since he’d turned thirty. Nicholas had yet to lose the argument with her, but he knew he’d never win it, either.
