“I did not,” she huffed. Nicholas’s thoughts instantly returned to impolite scenarios. She continued talking, which didn’t help. “I merely pointed out that you don’t know what is beneath them.”
Given that she was talking about all of his guests, Nicholas figured he should have images flashing through his mind of each woman, her skirts raised. Everyone his mother had invited was attractive in her own way (Miss Candile's being a purely physical beauty that wasn’t nearly enough to make up for her personality), yet he didn’t entertain thoughts of any of them for even a moment. Only the woman who stood in front of him. This woman who was exactly what he didn’t want—opinionated, outspoken, and unlikely to leave him in peace.
The last thing Nicholas needed was for his mother to catch on that he was attracted to any of her guests. She’d see that as a sign that she was right. But attraction was not what made for a comfortable marriage.
Nicholas could stand in the doorway, arguing until midnight, but every second he remained he risked his very observant mother catching him glancing at this woman’s lips, the slope of her neck, the lush swell of her bosom.
He knew full well he’d never win the argument, either. Not when he had to let the woman in, at least for the night. It was too late to actually send her home. And once she was in the door, she wouldn’t be leaving until the month was up.
So, he did the only thing he could. Turning on his heel without saying another word, Nicholas left the kitchen. He fled to his study, where he could barricade away the world with a ward and had a full decanter of brandy.
Tea wasn’t going to cut it. Not tonight.
Four
???
Sadie watched theBaron of Marstede storm away and tried to figure out what had just happened.
She hadn’t realized he was the baron at first—why would the lord of the manor be opening a side door?—and still didn’t know who he thoughtshewas. But that hardly mattered. She still hadn’t delivered the soap and had stepped into an argument between the shop’s two best customers.
The dowager smiled at her, unperturbed by the way Sadie had spoken to Lord Marstede. Or perhaps Lady Marstede was just that good at masking her emotions. “Come in, dear.”
Sadie took a step back. The sweet invitation worried her more than if she had been yelled at. “Um, thank you, but that’s not necessary.” She reached into her pocket and this time finished pulling the soap out. “I’m just here to deliver this. From Ferman’s Exotic Goods.”
The dowager accepted the soap. “That explains things. But truly, I insist. You walked all this way. The least we can do is offer you a drink. It sounds like the water is almost ready.”
Sadie heard the hiss of a kettle not quite at boiling. Why was there already water over the fire? She gave Lady Marstede a frank assessment. This was not a woman used to hearing no. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but I don’t think a drink is actually the reason you want me to come in.”
She laughed. “You are correct. I have an offer for you. Come in, and I’ll explain.”
Sadie stepped inside. She wasn’t sure she was making the right decision, but running away from the manor because she had been invited inside sounded worse. And she could use that drink. Pippa hadn’t included any beverages with her supper.
Once inside the manor, she realized she had knocked on the kitchen door, which made her wonder even more why the only two people she had seen so far were the baron and his mother. The space was lit with a few soft glow-glyphs, tall tapers of quartz engraved with multiple light runes, instead of candles, and there was not actually a fire going. Instead, the kettle sat atop its own heat-glyph, now whistling merrily. The expense of outfitting the kitchen with so many charms drove home how out of place Sadie was here. Having tea with a baroness.
A baroness who deactivated the heat-glyph and set the kettle on the counter next to a tin of tea with surprising familiarity. Lady Marstede gestured Sadie toward a stool in front of the counter. “What is your name, dear?”
“Sadie Winsel.”
The dowager placed two porcelain teacups and a matching pot next to the rest of her supplies and spooned tea inside. “Miss Winsel, I have a dilemma to which I believe you are the perfect solution. My son needs to marry. He’s lonely, but refuses to admit as much.” Her words were as smooth as her movements as she poured water into the pot and replaced the lid. “To help him realize the joys of companionship, I invited a handful of ladies to stay at the manor for the next month.”
“Is a handful more or less than half a dozen?” Sadie asked before she could think the better of it. That was the problem with speaking her mind. Once she did it a little bit, she forgot to censor herself entirely.
Luckily, the dowager’s eyes sparked with humor. “If you asked Nicholas, he’d tell you a single lady is already more than a handful.” The humor snuffed out, and she looked down at the teapot. “The introductions today did not go according to plan. I made a slight miscalculation in whom I invited and now fear Nicholas won’t give anyone a chance.”
In for a copper, in for a gold. Sadie hadn’t gotten in trouble for being blunt so far. “My lady, having met your son, I think the bigger issue will be any of the women wanting to marry him after spending time in his presence.”
She waved a hand through the air. “Piffle. He is a baron and is young.”That ninny, Abigail, would marry a toad if he had a title.
Sadie lifted a hand toward her amulet, then lowered it without tracing the familiar pattern on the underside. The power she had coaxed into on her walk had run out, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to block her power. The dowager wanted something, and she had the feeling that what Lady Marstede said would only be half the story at best. Lady Marstede was also a very controlled, contained person. Only the strongest surface thoughts drifted past her natural shields.
Sadie picked up the teapot and poured. “What is it you want from me, my lady?”
“I want you to continue to pretend to be one of the ladies I invited.”The perfect contrast to the rest.
“I’m not a lady,” Sadie pointed out, lifting her teacup. Having heard the dowager’s thoughts, she knew that was the point, but it was the logical thing to say.
Lady Marstede waved her hand through the air again, and Sadie made a note to try that gesture herself. Far more elegant than the snort she’d have indulged in. “We’ll say you are the youngest daughter of Charles Pentry. He’s the younger brother of the Viscount of Algimon. The family is minor enough that noone will wonder that you haven’t moved in society before. We will exaggerate your parentage, but you may still be you.”I’m counting on it.“As the niece of a viscount, you wouldn’t even technically be a lady yourself. Just Miss Sadie Pentry.”
