“I see,” Maddy said cautiously. “You don’t think she might resent me?”
He looked at her in surprise. “Resent you? Why should she?”
“Perhaps because after all her work in searching for an eligible bride you went ahead and chose me.”
He shrugged it off. “Any coals of blame she’ll heap on me, not you. Aunt Maude never holds a grudge. She’s very fond of me—of all her nephews—and can never stay cross for long.”
Maddy gave him a doubtful look. She wasn’t so sure.
“Besides,” he added, “even if she were furious, she couldn’t resist the prospect of outfitting you and the children.”
“The children?” Well, of course he’d want the children to be properly dressed, too, she chided herself. It was all so sudden; she hadn’t quite taken in the magnitude of change in her life yet.
He misunderstood her. “Aunt Maude is very fond of children, so don’t worry about a thing—I’ll arrange everything. You just finish the packing and get ready. We leave this afternoon, as soon after luncheon as I can manage.”
“Leave this afternoon? Why? And where—”
At that moment someone knocked at the door. She hesitated.
“Get the door,” he told her. “I’ll explain after that.”
But it was Lizzie, big with news.
“Oh, Lizzie,” Maddy exclaimed. “Could you wait a mom—”
“Nonsense,” Nash interrupted. He nodded to Lizzie and gestured her to come in. “I’ll be off now. Don’t worry about the whys or wheres, just get ready.” He glanced at Lizzie and added in an undertone, “And not a word to anyone about leaving, not even Lizzie, understand?” He picked up his portmanteau and hat.
“But—”
“Trust me.” He left, closing the door behind him.
She turned to find Lizzie eyeing her quizzically. “What’s going on Miss Maddy?”
“Make us a cup of tea, will you Lizzie, and I’ll tell you all about it. It’s been an eventful morning.”
“You!” the vicar exclaimed with loathing when he opened the door to Nash. His thick eyebrows gnashed together, like angry gray caterpillars. “You dare to show your face here when you’ve caused that poor girl—”
“I’m here to arrange a wedding,” Nash said crisply.
“Ah. Indeed? Harrumph. I suppose you’d better come in then.” The vicar ushered Nash into a small, cozy study. Books and writing paper were spread over a small side table, and from somewhere outside, the sounds of children’s voices floated. Presumably they were taking a break from their studies.
“Is it true?” the vicar demanded.
“Is what true?”
“That you’re the brother of the Earl of Alverleigh. And the heir to Sir Jasper Brownrigg’s estate. Sit down, sit down,” the vicar added testily, waving Nash to a worn but comfortable-looking chair.
“It’s true.” Nash sat in the seat indicated and crossed his legs.
The vicar eyed Nash’s boot with the black ribbons tied around it and snorted. “I suppose that’s all the rage among London dandies.”
Nash smiled. “No, it’s a fashion all of my own.”
The vicar snorted again. “But you’re going to make an honest woman of that poor girl?”
“She was never anything else,” Nash said silkily. “Never.”
The vicar’s thick brows beetled upward. “I see.” He scrutinized Nash’s face for a long time. “She’s ruined as far as the village is concerned. Don’t take a fire to make smoke. Reputation is all in the imagination, never mind about facts.”
