Page 58 of Soul of Discretion

EPILOGUE

“So what do you think of the UK, then, Nicholas?” Lady Stoneham raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Nick as he struggled to swallow the dry scone he’d been eating. He had to say, he wasn’t a fan of them.

Simon sighed in exasperation. “Mother, how many times do I have to tell you, his name is Nick, not Nicholas?”

They were seated in the drawing room of the Bridgeworth family home in Gidleigh, Devon. Set in beautiful verdant countryside overlooking the picturesque scenery of Dartmoor, Nick had been stunned when they’d pulled up outside the typically English Victorian coach house with its winding drive. He’d never seen anything like it up close and personal. Simon lived here as a kid? My God, what a childhood he must have had.

In a bit of a daze as he walked up the stone stairs to the front doors, Nick had barely heard Simon promise to take him to see the famous Dartmoor ponies later after their visit. Lady Stoneham, aka Sarah Elaine Patricia Bridgeworth, gave a delicate snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nicholas is a perfectly proper name and I understand it’s on his birth certificate, so why should I not use it? It has such a lovely ring to it. Nicholas.” She rolled the words off her tongue, but Nick saw the teasing sparkle in her pale blue eyes.

In her late sixties, she was still a beautiful woman, rosy cheeked with silver grey hair artfully styled. She was tiny in comparison to her son, dressed in a pale cream lace frock with a yellow cashmere shawl.

He swallowed the final dry crumb that had threatened to choke him and gestured “no” hastily when offered another one. “No thank you, ma’am. I’ve had enough.” Too late he realised guiltily he hadn’t used her proper form of address, being Countess or Lady Stoneham. English titles were doing his head in, even though Simon had spent several patient hours trying to teach him. He glanced at Simon, who winked at him.

Around the room, Lady Stoneham’s laughter tinkled like the keys of a piano. “Oh my, how quaint. I haven’t been called ma’am in years. I like it.” Then, to Nick’s complete stupefaction, she winked at him. “I’d suggest you call me Sarah if you and my son are going to be getting married.” It was Simon’s turn now to spit out his coffee and, with it, the last few crumbs of scone he’d been nibbling. Nick stared at both of them in astonishment.

Married? While the thought wasn’t unwelcome, he felt perhaps it might be a bit soon for that.

Simon’s mother stared down at the mess on her table with amusement. “Oh, sorry, am I jumping the gun here? I’m anxious to plan a wedding, dying to do a summer event, so I thought perhaps I’d mention it.”

Simon got himself under control and glared at his mother. “Nick’s only been here three months. Do you want to scare him away? And you know if you want to plan a wedding, you have only to ask the Hampton-Wrights if they need help with Erica’s. You know they’d welcome you with open arms.”

His mother huffed. “Possibly. I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

Simon placed a hand on Nick’s arm and squeezed. “Ignore her. I promise I’ve no intentions of asking for your hand in marriage.”

Nick’s spirits plummeted. Oh, okay. It might be too soon now but…later?

Simon grinned at him. “Yet.”

The chuckle bubbled up unchecked. “Gee, thanks. Good to know, babe.” Nick placed his hand on Simon’s. “I’m still getting used to everything. It’s been a bit of a fairy tale, to be honest. Moving in here with you, getting a new job, being exposed to all this grandeur…” He waved a hand around the room. “You must admit it’s a bit of a game change for me.”

He’d met George Placket, taken a tour of his operation, and decided right then and there he wanted to be part of it. Damn Simon had been right once again.

Simon’s brow furrowed. “You’re good with it though? I mean, I know things aren’t moving too fast that you’re having second thoughts about being here?”

Nick’s heart warmed at the worry in Simon’s tone. His aristocrat was concerned he would leave? Didn’t he know Nick was exactly where he wanted to be? He squeezed Simon’s hand. “Don’t be silly. I’m going nowhere. You’re stuck with me.”

They smiled sappily at each other as a genteel clearing of the throat made them look over at Lady Stoneham, who sat in her chair dreamy eyed. They’d half forgotten she was there. “How adorable the two of you are together. I’ve never seen Simon like this with anyone. He’s always been a bit of a hound dog when it comes to relationships, and that app he designed didn’t help him settle down.” She made a moue of disapproval.

Simon shook his head and stood up, pulling Nick with him. “That ‘app,’ as you call it so disparagingly, brought the two of us together.” He moved over to his mother, taking Nick with him, and kissed the top of his mother’s head. “Thank you for the afternoon tea, although tell Moira I think those scones were a little too dry. She might like to review her recipe. I thought Nick was going to choke.”

Nick flushed. “They weren’t that bad, honestly.”

Simon stared at him fondly. “Liar,” he murmured.

Lady Stoneham snorted loudly. “You tell her. You know how proud she is of that family recipe. It’s not worth my life if I mention anything. She’ll be adding extra spices to my food to give me heartburn for weeks.”

“Are you mad?” Simon demanded. “Last time I mentioned to her that her mashed potato would be even better with more butter, she cooked me tripe and onions for dinner. Yuck.” He shuddered.

Nick bit back a laugh at the obvious fear his boyfriend and mother had for the family cook. “Well, Peter is a cordon bleu cook. Perhaps she’d take it better coming from him.”

Simon’s eyes brightened. “She does love Peter. Thinks the sun shines out of his backside. That’s a good idea, Mum. Invite him and Collette down one weekend and make sure those scones are served. He’ll soon put her right.”

He let go of Nick’s hand and leaned down to hug his mother tightly. “It was lovely seeing you, and we’ll come back as soon as we can. I’m taking Nick to see the ponies now. Once a Mountie, always a Mountie.”

She stood up, the top of her head under his chin, and hugged him back fiercely. “You know you’re both welcome here anytime.” She turned to Nick and held out her arms imperiously. “You too, Nicholas.”

He went in for the hug and closed his eyes as the fragrant scent she wore, something warm and vanilla, invaded his senses. The last person to give him hugs like this had been Aunt Rose.