Page 28 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Chapter Twelve

Nash stayed at Blackwood Chase for a few weeks, in the end, having sent for Mr Silverton to arrange everything. He went to the Inn, paid Winterbourne’s owings, and collected the man’s luggage and valet. The valet, and the coachman, once informed that Lord Walter would be taking ship to the Americas, were happy to accept the offer of employment which Nash made – and exclaimed in delight at the wages offered, for it seemed that Lord Walter had not paid his staff well, if he had paid them at all.

Once every paper had been signed, and every deed obtained from the man of business that Lord Walter had used, Nash and James set off, accompanied by two very burly footmen to control Lord Walter, to Portsmouth. It was not until they had seen Lord Walter aboard a ship – a ship whose Captain had been paid handsomely to ensure that the man reached the Americas – and watched it sail, that Nash finally felt able to relax.

And to face the next task ahead of him.

The journey back to Blackwood Chase was far more relaxed – on the way to Portsmouth, they had travelled through the night, pressing on slowly, changing horses often, the coachman and the groom trading off driving. It had seemed far preferable to stopping at Inns, and having to explain why one passenger was bound. Now, they could stop, and sleep well, lighter of heart and mind, for knowing that Winterbourne was gone.

At Blackwood Chase, Bea had waited impatiently, and Nash pulled her into his arms for a kiss as soon as they arrived back.

“It is done, my darling Bea. He is on a ship – a ship which we watched sail away. Finally, we can put all of this behind us. Well, apart from the fact that I now have another five properties to maintain – properties which I have not even seen yet!”

She laughed, and he reluctantly released her – for he still had other things to deal with – one in particular. Bea led him to the parlour, where Honour was sitting, reading, and called for tea.

“So… what will happen next? Where shall we wed?”

Nash looked at her, at the delicate blush on her cheek, and his heart sang.

“Wherever you wish, my dear. At Wormsley Manor, so that your father can be there, perhaps? I feel no need for a large wedding celebration.”

“I had hoped that you would feel that way. And I confess that, whilst it is partly because I want both of my parents to be able to be there, there is more to it. Unkind as it is of me, I want all of those who have spent my lifetime spreading terrible gossip about me, about my parentage, to see that, despite their words, I have married well.”

Honour looked up from her book, her face a picture of shock, and Nash wondered what Bea had said to cause that. Then Honour spoke, her voice almost shaky.

“You… knew…? You knew what they said about you? But you never seemed to notice, you were always so bright and cheerful, and nice to everyone, even to the worst gossips!”

Nash watched, as Bea met Honour’s gaze, and nodded.

“Of course I knew. They delighted in making sure that I overheard them. By the time I was five, I understood what they said, all too well. And I decided that if mother could hold her head high and ignore it, so could I. Being nice to them was almost fun, for it infuriated them so, that no matter what they said, I was not upset. It taught me how to appear innocent, disingenuous, and happy, no matter what. And I rather think that was a useful thing to learn.”

Honour sat, open mouthed for a moment, then burst into laughter. Through it, she managed to speak.

“Oh dear, I completely underestimated you, dear sister, didn’t I? I can only attribute that to having been away from home, in my first marriage, for most of your growing up, or surely I would have realised what you did. I am proud of you, Bea!”

Bea laughed too, then turned back to Nash.

“So – the wedding at Wormsley Manor, then? That means that we can arrange for the banns to be read, starting this Sunday.”

“We may need to wait a little longer. For tomorrow, I must leave here, for some days at least.”

“Oh? But you have only just returned.”

“I need to go to Montford Abbey, now that all of this mess with Winterbourne has been dealt with – for I need to tell my brother of our betrothal. And discuss with him how best to do this, as, theoretically, I am in mourning for my great-uncle, the previous Duke. I think that, perhaps, we will need to wait another few months, until it is six months past his death. Shortened mourning is looked down upon by some, but is becoming more and more common. Can you bear to wait those extra weeks, my darling?”

“If I must, of course I can. And that will allow my mother longer to plan the wedding. I must write to her today, and tell her of our decision. She was delighted when she received our letter telling her of the betrothal – I am sure that this will complete her happiness. But… do not be away at Montford Abbey too long, for I would see you as often as possible, until the wedding.”

“And I you.”

~~~~~

“To your happiness.”

Chase lifted his brandy glass, and Nash echoed the gesture with his own.

“Thank you. I’m already happy, but more happiness is welcome. I hope you don’t mind that we want to cut my mourning off at six months, so that we can marry, where society will undoubtedly expect you to do the full year?”

“Not at all. I‘d join you in making it six months if I thought I could get away with it. Much though I’ve always shied away from the idea of marriage, I’m glad you’ve found someone you like enough to marry. I’ve done a lot of thinking, this last few weeks, while you’ve been gone. The thought of next year’s Season, even the latter part of it that falls after my mourning will end, quite horrifies me. Maybe I’ll just avoid it. That seems best. But I know that I must now find a wife. I need an heir, just like you do. So, laugh at this if you will, I’ll understand – but I’ve set myself a challenge. I intend to find a woman I’m willing to wed, before the Season after this coming one. And if I can find someone outside of the common high society circles, I think I’ll do it. That way, the girl’s expectations will be different – not so… painful…”