“No woman who has been through so much would wish to form an attachment for someone like me.”
“An earl?”
“A rake, Henry, stop being so obtuse.”
“You cannot live by your past actions forever. Convince her. And by all means, if she is the reason for your happiness these last two weeks, do so quickly. I wish to see you settled if that is what you desire.”
“I do not know what I desire. I just cannot bear her thinking ill of me.”
Henry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I believe then, my dear Nicholas, that you know very well what it is you want.”
***
“I have never found anything particularly enjoyable about fishing,” Lord Crompton said as he belched under his breath, taking another glass of port.
Nicholas was nodding and listening politely but had Miss Crompton in his peripheral vision. She was sitting with Rosemary, looking stunning in the candlelight. The earlier clouds had left her face, and she was all jovial happiness in the company. Over the last few days, she had come out of her shell, and in this kind of situation, she was all affable grace and propriety.
“Have you a stream here?” Lord Crompton asked.
“No, but my estate in Hertfordshire has a trout stream, my Lord.”
“Do you enjoy it often?”
“I confess, I am not a good fisherman, but my cousin, Lord James Bolton, has often brought his family to stay with me. He has caught many trout from it.”
“How large is your estate?” asked Lord Crompton. It could have been a casual question if his wife’s eyes had not lit up at the potential answer.
“It is over fifteen thousand acres and a very beautiful aspect. It is one of my favourite places on earth.”
“My husband and I had a similar estate,” interjected Lady Wilde. “Alas, that particular location was given up following his death, but I still enjoy spending time at Leicester Hall whenever I am able.”
“Is that a sizable house, my lady?” Lord Crompton asked.
“Oh yes, very large. Also in Hertfordshire.”
Nicholas risked a glance at Lady Wilde, who was already watching him. Her red lips were parted into a smile, and he hastily took up his glass of wine to avoid her.
He looked across the table to find Miss Crompton watching him. As their eyes met, he had the pleasure of watching her cheeks turn red as she blushed. But then she looked away, and all the doubts flooded back. She was so difficult to read.
Could I be mistaken? Is this all one-sided?
As the party retired to the drawing room after an excellent repast, Nicholas managed to finally manoeuvre himself to Miss Crompton’s side beneath one of the kissing boughs.
“Have you had a chance to review the book of poetry from our prize?” he asked.
She smiled. “I have. It is most beautiful. Lady Eleanor has quite an eye for her activities. Every poem within the book had some reference to the clues that we found yesterday. I must commend her on her commitment to the task.”
Nicholas laughed. “My aunt has always been a stickler for detail, Miss Crompton. She will not be outdone.”
“Have you read any of the poems of Leigh Hunt?” she asked.
Nicholas felt a bolt of joy that she had heard of that particular artist. Very few of the people he had met knew much of the poet. He was the co-founder of a liberal newspaper called The Examiner, which would be highly derided amongst the upper classes. It was appallingly liberal, which would ruffle far too many feathers in his inner circle, but Nicholas did enjoy being rebellious.
“Do you know I met him once,” he said and saw her eyes light up excitedly.
“Did you? What is he like?”
“He is a passionate man, fiercely kind and very loyal to those about him. He spoke of his mother very fondly when we met, although it was for minutes only. I have not met many people who admire his poems. Are you one of them?”
