Otherwise Engaged

by Joanna Barker

  Nicholas gave a laugh. “That is quite the image. And how do you feel about it all?”

  I knelt beside him and handed him the pistol. “I have resigned myself to it. If Mama is to marry, she could certainly do worse than Mr. Hambley.” I paused. “He does seem to make her happy, though I cannot account for how.”

  “Love is not reasonable,” Nicholas said, “and rarely does it make any sense.”

  He spoke evenly, as if we were discussing the weather and not love, of all subjects. What did he know of love? Did he have some romantic past?

  “In any case, they seem to like each other a great deal,” I said. “But I do not know if love is part of the equation.” I stood and brushed my skirts. “Now, how can I help you?”

  He waved in the direction of the targets. “If you would gather the targets, I will tidy up here.”

  I strode to the tree where the targets hung, the ropes now empty after our lesson. I set to work untying the swaying ropes, bits of glass and scraps of fabric clinging to the ends.

  “How is Olivia enduring school?” I called back to Nicholas. Olivia had started two days before, and though Juliana had told me she was doing well, I wanted to hear it from Nicholas. I’d visited her a few times at Linwood during the past weeks, but now that she spent all day at school, I somehow missed her blunt honesty and pert, upturned nose.

  “I think she is rather enjoying it,” he said. “She hardly tells me as much, of course, but neither does she tell me she hates it.”

  “She must like it, then.” I tugged at a particularly stubborn knot. Nicholas seemed to have forgotten this was not a ship in the Royal Navy; this rope was secured by what appeared to be a Gordian knot, or one as equally complicated.

  “She likes your sister-in-law a great deal,” he said as he cleaned his pistol, supplies spread before him on the rock.

  “I am not surprised in the least,” I said, focused on prying loose the knot. Finally, it gave, and I tugged the rope free from the branch.

  A sharp pain sliced across my palm. I gave a yelp and clutched my injured hand in the other. Scarlet drops of blood leached out from between my fingers, dripping to the ground below.

  “Rebecca? What happened?”

  Footsteps sounded as Nicholas ran to me. I squeezed my eyes shut, the sight of blood on my white skin plastered against my eyelids.

  “Are you hurt?” Nicholas took my shoulders in his hands. I lifted my bloody hands still clutched together, and he cursed under his breath as he fished out his handkerchief. “Let me see it.”

  I shook my head. The pain was red-hot in my mind as it pulsed through my hand to my chest. Blood ran warm across my hands, the scent biting against the fresh air of the meadow.

  “I need to see it.” Nicholas left no room for argument. “Please.”

  My vision swam. And here I thought I’d completely recovered from my accident all those years ago. I had physically, at least. But there were much more lasting consequences than a broken leg.

  My legs felt like Mrs. Hale’s raspberry jelly. “I need to sit down, I think.”

  “Yes, of course.” Nicholas’s arm, warm and steady, came around my back as he guided me to a nearby stump. After sitting, I took a few deep breaths, trying to force back my pain. It was just a cut, I told myself. Nothing at all like what I’d suffered before.

  Nicholas knelt beside me and gently took my hands in his. “I’ll use my handkerchief to stop the bleeding,” he said. “But you must let go.”

  My hand clutched around my palm felt like the only thing that held me together, but I gritted my teeth and released my injured hand. Nicholas immediately pressed the handkerchief to it but not before I glimpsed the cut—jagged across my palm, with angry red edges and slippery with blood.

  “It was the glass,” I said faintly. “The shards on the end of the rope.” Beneath the pressure of Nicholas’s hand on mine, my pulse drummed like hoofbeats.

  Nicholas shook his head. “I should not have asked you to take them down.”

  I gave a shaky laugh. “I was a fool and cut myself, and somehow, you manage to make it your fault.”

  “You would not be hurt if I hadn’t been teaching you to shoot.”

  “And you would not have been teaching me to shoot if I had not asked you to.”

  He blew out a breath, adjusting his grip on my makeshift bandage. I winced, and his eyes found mine, just inches away. For the first time, I noticed streaks of brown in his green eyes and the hint of golden stubble on his jaw.

  “I am sorry.” His soft voice whispered against my skin. “I think you may need to call a doctor.”

  “We can’t,” I protested weakly. How could I explain this? And even if I could, William would never trust me again.

  Nicholas pressed his lips together, considering. “We’ll let the bleeding slow and then I will look at it again. Perhaps it is not so bad as it seems.”

  I could only hope so, as I was already imagining William’s face when he saw my bleeding and bandaged hand. The stinging pain in my palm had dulled to a throb, but my chest still felt too tight. I forced my breaths in and out.

  “May I ask if you are occupied in two days’ time?”

  I blinked at Nicholas. “Pardon?”

  “I am planning a dinner party,” he said. “Rather last minute, I know, but the idea just came to me this morning. I’ve been careful to stay apart from Millbury as a whole, since I did not know when I might have to leave, but now I think it worth my time to know the society better.”

  I gave a halfhearted attempt at a smile. He was trying to distract me from the shadow that grasped at me from my memories. “I do love a good dinner party.”

  “Your family is invited, of course.” He kept his eyes fixed on my hand between his. “I thought to also invite Mr. Hambley, if you are not opposed, and perhaps the Masons.”

  My chin bumped up. “The Masons?”

  “Miss Mason is a particular friend of yours, is she not?”

  “Indeed, but I hadn’t thought you knew her well enough to invite her.”

  He gave a wry grin. “What better purpose is there for a party?”

  I leaned back. He—he wanted to know Sarah better?

  “I imagine we will be able to attend,” I managed, “and I’m certain the Masons will as well. It is not as though Millbury is as busy as the London Season.”

  “Quite thankfully,” he said, but I barely heard him. Was he interested in Sarah? I did not think they’d met more than a handful of times. They had danced at the assembly, hadn’t they? And spoken together at church once or twice. But Sarah was pretty and clever and certainly did not need more opportunities than that to turn a gentleman’s head.

  Nicholas did not seem to notice my inattention, or if he did, he attributed it to my injury. He pulled back the handkerchief, now stained with a blotch of red, and inspected my hand. I eyed my cut as well, keeping my head turned slightly away as if that would help it not look so bad. I’d done the same thing when the doctor had tended to my broken leg, and it hadn’t done much good then.

  “The bleeding has slowed,” he said. “It is not as deep as I thought before. I think you may have avoided sutures.”

  “Good,” I managed. “Good.”

  “But please have someone bandage it for you. Your maid or housekeeper.” He took my fresh handkerchief and tied it firmly around my palm in a makeshift bandage, then gently cleaned my other hand of any trace of blood. He stood and held out his hand to me“Can you ride?”

  I took his hand with my uninjured one, and he pulled me up beside him. “Yes, of course.” Stella would bring me back, no matter that I could not use one hand.

  He did not look convinced. “Perhaps I ought to escort you.”

  “I can manage.” My voice was more curt than I’d meant. He squinted at me, clearly concerned. I softened my voice. “It only h
urts a little now. I will be fine, I promise.”

  He nodded. “All right. You start home, and I will finish here. Perhaps we ought to break from our meetings for a few days until you’ve recovered?”

  He did not sound particularly bereft at the idea. Would he not miss our time together?

  “I quite agree,” I said briskly. “And I will be sure to tell Mama about your dinner party.”

  “I am not so uncivilized as that,” he promised. “I’ll send your mother a proper invitation tomorrow.”

  Nicholas helped me saddle Stella again, but when I approached to mount, he shook his head. “Let me lift you up,” he said. “You cannot mount with one hand.”

  “It is hardly a dismemberment.”

  “Humor me, please.”

  I stiffened as he stepped to me, his broad hands finding the smallest part of my waist. He lifted me, and I barely remembered to slip my leg over Stella’s side.

  “All right?” he asked, one hand still hesitating on my waist as if I might topple over at any minute.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes. Thank you, Nicholas.”

  “Ride slowly,” he warned. “I’ll not have you unable to hold on if Stella were to spook.”

  If William had said those same words, I might have prickled with indignation. But I knew Nicholas spoke not because he doubted my abilities but because he was concerned over my injury.

  “I will,” I said softly. “I promise.”

  As I urged Stella forward, I told myself to keep my eyes focused ahead. Because I should not want so very much to have one last look at him, to have my heart beat so intensely at his nearness.

  I should not want that at all.

  What was wrong with me? I was happily engaged to a man I knew was perfect for me, and yet Nicholas set me off balance at every turn. Was it because I missed Edward? Or was there more to the heat that swam through my insides whenever I was around Nicholas? I’d never had a close friend of the opposite gender before. Perhaps it was always this confusing, especially as Nicholas was . . . well, he was blasted attractive, that was what he was. I could acknowledge that much. I simply could not allow my feelings to run deeper than that. And yet, how could I stop myself from spending time with him? We were friends, after all, and neighbors. It would hurt him if I were to cut him out. It would hurt me, if I were being honest.

  Stella and I left the meadow behind us, starting in the direction of Havenfield. I cradled my hand in my lap, though it twinged with every bump as I thought back over our conversation. What had Nicholas meant by his comment about Sarah Mason? I was not foolish enough to ignore my own reaction to it. I had been jealous, that much was clear, but the why was a little harder to pin down. Likely, it was because I did not want to share Nicholas. I had grown used to having him to myself, but if he’d decided to step into Millbury society, I could hardly hold him back.

  In fact . . .

  An idea dove into my mind. Nicholas had been the one to mention Sarah, proving he had at least a passing interest in her. And although she was a bit of a flirt, she was goodhearted and sweet when it mattered.

  Nicholas and Sarah. Would they suit each other? Could I convince them that they would? Perhaps if Nicholas had a sweetheart of his own, he would not affect me so very much. Surely, it would be easier to be around him if I knew his heart was taken by another. I could use his dinner party as an opportunity to test my strategy, to play matchmaker between the two of them.

  This would work, I told myself as Stella plodded along beneath me and my stomach swam uneasily. I could find love for Nicholas, and then he would be as happy as Edward and me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Linwood Hall shone in the darkness, the windows displaying the warm candlelight within as the darkening sky settled upon the house like a winter cloak. The air held a pronounced chill tonight; autumn had begun to show its face, the leaves touched with gold and red, the wind whipping against our coach as we came to a stop before the front door of Nicholas’s home.

  I took a steadying breath as William stepped down lightly and reached back to help Mama. My emotions had been something of a mess the past two days. I still had yet to hear from Edward, and even though I told myself a fortnight was not so terribly long, I could not dismiss the fear that something was wrong. Had he read my letter and, upon learning my suspicions about Papa, decided this was a union he no longer wished for? My stomach twisted at the thought. That could not be it. He was too honorable to abandon me so easily.

  Then, of course, there was tonight’s plan. I had debated the idea almost constantly since I’d thought of it in the meadow. Would Sarah and Nicholas be good together? They had their differences, certainly. Sarah was more lighthearted, while Nicholas tended toward thoughtfulness and quiet wit. But they were both good people, and in the end, was that not what mattered? Perhaps her carefree personality would be good for Nicholas, help him in his aim to settle into Millbury.

  “Rebecca?” William stood in the open coach door as he offered me his hand, having just helped Juliana down.

  “Sorry.” I made sure to give him my uninjured hand. Even though my cut was healing well, it hurt now and again, and I was still determined to keep it a secret. William helped me down to the pebbled drive. Mama and Juliana had already started up the front stairs, anxious to escape the wind that threw my curls into my eyes and whipped at my skirts.

  “And what were you woolgathering about?” William asked.

  What would he say if I told him the truth? That I worried over the lack of correspondence from my affianced? That I even now was plotting to matchmake my two friends because one of those friends made me feel things I should not feel?

  “Just anticipating the evening ahead,” I said instead. “It has been so long since we’ve had a party.”

  He seemed to accept that and offered me his arm. He rarely did that anymore since Juliana occupied his side most of the time. I took his arm, memories of my first Season stealing into my mind. William had accompanied me to a few events whenever he was in London, and I’d so loved the chance to be escorted by my older brother, lacking the father that most young ladies had.

  As we handed our things to the footman, I spotted Olivia on the stairs, her head peeking around the corner, curls about her shoulders. I gave her a secretive little wave, which she returned after a slight hesitation, then she scampered back up the stairs, no doubt to the relief of whatever nursemaid was searching for her.

  I followed my family into the drawing room, where a welcoming fire crackled along the far wall. Nicholas stood speaking with Mr. Hambley near the bank of windows that overlooked the lawn. Nicholas looked very handsome in his dark jacket and black waistcoat, his stance easy and confident. If Sarah didn’t already harbor a tendre for the man, she certainly would after tonight.

  The two men glanced up as we were announced, and Nicholas moved to greet us, a quick smile lighting his face. But as his gaze settled on me stepping though the door, his smile faltered. He stared at me, my upswept hair and evening gown—an ivory silk with gathered sleeves and low neckline—and swallowed, meeting my eyes for the briefest of moments before turning to greet Mama with a bow.

  What was that about? Did he not like my dress? I thought I’d put together a rather fetching appearance when I’d dressed earlier. But perhaps that was it. He hadn’t seen me in anything other than my habit for weeks. I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction that I could still surprise him.

  He welcomed Juliana and William, and they moved into the drawing room to speak with Mr. Hambley. Nicholas finally turned to me, his expression careful. “Good evening, Miss Rowley.”

  “Lieutenant Avery.” I gave a low, graceful curtsy, and he raised his brow.

  “After all our time together, I thought perhaps you’d forgotten how to curtsy,” he said.

  I tipped my head. “Like you have clearly forgotten how to bow?”


  The corner of his mouth twitched, then he bent into the slightest bow without looking away. “Not to mention I hardly recognized you without your hair in disarray and smelling of gunpowder.”

  I gave a huff. “I can present myself as well as the next lady.”

  His gaze traveled over me again. “I do not disagree.”

  Heaven help me. My plan tonight had been to avoid the heat that now swirled inside me like embers stirred from a banked fire. I tried to think of a reason to excuse myself and join Mama, but Nicholas stepped closer, and my breathing hitched.

  “How is your hand?” he asked softly.

  I rubbed my injured palm through my gloves. “Much improved. The cut was not so bad as it looked the other day, like you said.” Thankfully, too, or I’d never have been able to hide it from Mama and William. Fawcett had cared for my hand without inviting any suspicion.

  “Good,” he said. “I was worried you’d be frightened off from shooting.”

  “It is as if you do not know me at all.”

  He leaned in. “I should have known a mere scratch would never scare you away.”

  “Quite right.”

  The sounds of new arrivals in the entry interrupted us. I glanced back to see Sarah with her parents, handing their things to the footman.

  “I’ll let you greet the Masons,” I said quickly as I stepped back. I needed space from him right now, just for a minute. I could collect myself and reapply myself to the task at hand.

  Escaping to stand near the fireplace, I pretended to warm myself, though the heat inside me did the job quite thoroughly.

  “How are you this evening, Miss Rowley?” Mr. Hambley came to join me, Mama having gone to greet Mr. and Mrs. Mason.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, thank you, Mr. Hambley.”

  We stood in silence for a few moments as the chatter from the Masons’ arrival surrounded us. Mr. Hambley shifted his weight, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. The poor fellow seemed uneasy.

  It took me a moment to realize I made him uneasy. Which was silly. We’d spoken a few times in the past weeks, enough to claim something of an acquaintance. Although this was the first time Mama had not been there to ease our conversation.