He hadn’t wanted to talk, he’d wanted to press her against the wall and kiss her, then kiss his way down her throat, over her collarbone, across her shoulders. Nicholas couldn’t remember the last time he had reacted so strongly to a woman. It wasn’t just how she was dressed; he’d seen plenty of women in evening gowns over the years and been unmoved. It wasSadiein that dress that undid him.
Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time alone, holed up at his estate. Not that marriage was the solution. A few days in the nearest town—not one of the villages in Marstede lands—was all he needed. Though perhaps he should make it a point to visit Lamsdel more often as well.
It was entirely possible his mother had arranged for Pippa to come to the manor because Sadie was without a maid, but hiring someone from Valway would be more likely. And Sadie’s arrival without a carriage still made no sense.
A mystery she had very clearly tried to distract him from, and he’d allowed it, wanting to know how she’d react to learning he was a witch. But as they descended the stairs, he forced himself to return to the matter that had initially sent him to seek her out. “If your maid took sick only a day out from Marstede, wouldn’t it have made more sense to hurry here than to send her back to Algimon?”
Sadie didn’t stumble for an answer, despite the abruptness of the question. “She didn’t want to be an extra burden, especially when she was already leaving me without any help.”
“Of course.” It was as logical an explanation as any, but Nicholas didn’t believe it for a moment. There was too much challenge in Sadie’s tone as she answered. “How kind of you to let her take your carriage and continue on to Marstede yourself alone. On foot.”
“I was only on foot for the last bit of the journey.”
Her admission that she walked at all took Nicholas by surprise. He had expected another denial or deflection. “And why did you walk the final distance?”
“An axle broke. Rather than waiting in the village overnight when I was so close to my destination, I decided to walk.”
“By yourself.”
“I haven’t needed anyone to help me walk for many years now.”
They’d reached the dining room, but Nicholas stopped and turned to face her rather than opening the door. “You’re telling me it didn’t worry you at all to walk alone through the woods at night?”
“First of all, the road is next to the forest, not in it. Second, it was evening, not night. And third, why should I be afraid of the woods? Everyone always says they are haunted, but I’ve never heard a single story that proves that theory.”
Nicholas was fairly certain he’d had the same argument multiple times, but he was the one spouting Sadie’s objections. She said it with such exasperation he knew it wasn’t the first time she had made those points, either. But why would she regularly talk about the road next to his forest? “Do you hear about the Gloaming Forest often out in Algimon?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, closing her eyes barely longer than a blink, then spoke as if she hadn’t just betrayedherself. “There are traders in Baravant who refuse to travel south specifically because of the Gloaming Forest. They tell tales of its hauntedness. Well, what they claim is proof that malevolent spirits haunt the trees. I’m not convinced it is anything more than a few cases of bad luck.”
“More like a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Nicholas muttered. “Everyone is so jumpy when they enter the forest that they shy away from squirrels. Of course more accidents than normal happen at that point.”
“Exactly.”
Nicholas studied her. “What’s your name?”
“You already know my name.”
“You are not from Algimon.” He was certain of that much at this point. If she were the viscount’s niece, she wouldn’t need to hide behind so many lies. “Therefore, you are not a Pentry.”
She stepped closer to him, her skirts brushing over his shoes, her chin raised in challenge. “This month, I am.”
Then she pivoted and entered the dining room, and he… well, he watched her go.
“My lo— Nicholas?” Jane’s voice reminded him that he still stood in the doorway.
He turned to face her. She had changed into an evening gown, too, but the sight of her shoulders, the expanse of décolletage, didn’t affect him at all. He was both relieved and worried about that. It meant his libido wasn’t simply choosing the worst possible moment to declare he’d been celibate for too long. It also meant that his attraction to Sadie wasn’t merely circumstance, something he could shrug off and satisfy discreetly with an evening in town.
No, he wanted Sadie. Lying, challenging, invigorating Sadie.
Nine
???
Supper passed withoutincident. There were a few moments when Nicholas wanted to ask Sadie a pointed question, but he didn’t. Not in front of everyone else. He was convinced she wasn’t who she said she was, but he wouldn’t expose her to the other women. His attempts to learn her true identity would be saved for private conversations.
Besides, it was rare that anyone besides Abigail even had a chance to speak over the course of the meal.
Then his mother ushered everyone into the parlor, and he found himself sitting across a chess board from Helen before he knew how it had happened. Four of the other women, including Sadie, settled around a table with a deck of cards. Jane sat next to his mother in the farthest corner from him, speaking quietly.
