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 firstimpression 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.
