Which meant he ultimately was losing, for if he couldn’t even enjoy toast and marmalade in peace, his home wasn’t much of a haven.
“Give me five years,” he begged. “Don’t mention marriage for five years, then you can marry me off well before I turn forty. I won’t make a fuss; I won’t object.”
Lady Huxley sighed once more. “If your objection is to bringing a stranger into Marstede Manor, that will hardly solve the problem, Nicholas. I don’t want you miserable. Quite the opposite. But you’ll never find a partner if you refuse to even meet women. Or men. Anyone, really.”
There were not enough spirits to pray to for salvation. Not if his mother had reached the point where she’d try to set Nicholas up with anyone breathing. He could avoid eligible ladies. Hecould not avoid every unmarried person within a fifty-mile radius.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in men that way, Mother.”
“The way you’ve been behaving these past few years, one might wonder if you are even interested in women that way. But I know better, Nicky.”
He lowered his hand and groaned. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
She, predictably, ignored him. “If you’d marry, I wouldn’t have to worry so much. How do you expect to meet anyone when you spend all your time on the estate?”
“I’m not going to court.” Nicholas visited the capital for two weeks every six months, and that was more than enough for him. Spending an entire season in the city, like his mother generally did, wouldn’t help him find a wife. It would only make him more determined than ever to avoid marrying.
Lady Marstede lifted her teacup, holding it close to her face and letting the hazel eyes that matched her son’s drift shut as she savored the aroma. “Of course not. No one of any importance is in Linzen at this time of year. What you need is to meet people here, where you are comfortable.”
That sounded nearly as bad as staying in the city. On the other hand, he had refuges around Marstede where he could hide. The forest that filled the vast majority of his estate, in particular, would allow him privacy. No marriage-minded lady was going to want to step foot inside its depths. They could barely handle the cultivated “wilderness” park near the royal palace. They’d faint at the dark, tangled mystery of the Gloaming Forest. Even locals often called it haunted.
Nicholas leaned back in his chair. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mother.”
She raised a single brow.
He wasn’t fooled. She’d been leading him toward this deal the entire conversation. Still, as long as she agreed to a few key terms, it would be worth it. “You may invite a handful of people—women—to the manor for me to meet. I, in turn, will keep an open mind about the possibility of matrimony. If, at the end of the visit, however, I am still decided against marrying, you won’t bring the topic up again for five years.”
“Make it only one year, and I won’t invite every unmarried lady I can think of.”
“Three years, and even then you will invite ten or fewer.” Honestly, he didn’t care much about the number of women. One would be as annoying as a score in his mind.
“Two years, and I will invite fewer than half a dozen.”
Nicholas studied the glint in his mother’s eyes. That was the best offer he’d get.
“Deal.”
Two
???
Lose our mostvaluable customer. All over soap. I know we had the lilac. Where is it? The baroness will be so mad…
Sadie wanted to scream as the repetitive thoughts swirled around her. Under normal circumstances, Mr. Ferman was too contained a person for much of the inner workings of his mind to make it beyond his natural barriers, but today, agitation lowered those barriers. Ever since Sadie had returned to the shop after her lunch break, his thoughts had been a muddle about soap, Marstede Manor, and dire predictions about the inevitable failure of his shop.
All because he couldn’t find a bar of lilac soap.
Another repeat of his unproductive thoughts was apt to send Sadie screaming. Mr. Ferman hadn’t said anything to her about the soap, though, so she couldn’t very well walk up to him and say the missing bar was in the trunk in the back corner because Mrs. Ferman had thought it might help eliminate the musty smell.
But she needed his mind to calm down.
Sadie also needed this shop to stay open, and while she didn’t think failing to produce a bar of soap for the local nobility would really force Ferman’s Exotic Goods to shutter its doors, it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, either.
Working in the fine goods store was a far cry from her dream of owning a potion shop, but it was the best job she’d managed to secure in years. Making potions for a living wasn’t actually an option, so she needed this store to succeed.
When Mr. Ferman was looking away, Sadie licked her thumb and traced the glyph hidden on the back side of the amulet she wore at her throat. Magic trickled through the smooth agate, and Mr. Ferman’s thoughts became a low hum she could more easily ignore. It wouldn’t last long.
Sadie’s magical affinity was for water, not earth, and she couldn’t coax magic into the stone at her neck in great enough amounts to actually cut off her power. Nor had she ever developed a potion that accomplished the same result as her amulet.
