Lady Anne dominated the scene with her energetic chatter, drawing everyone into her conversation, skillfully luring Lord Nicholas to her side.
There was utterly nothing Nympha could do to combat her charm. She wasn't nasty, just determined. Never had Nympha felt so helpless, so lacking in social skills. This was not the sort of situation she had encountered at the rectory!
In a blessedly brief time Foley summoned them to the dining room where an abundant array of food graced the sideboard. Footmen stood ready to serve, and one would have thought the luncheon was a long-planned affair.
Mrs. Coxmoor took over the direction from the purposeful hands of Lady Anne. First of all, she seated Lord Nicholas between Lady Jane and Nympha. She sweetly placed the others to either side of her and opposite. There wasn't a word Lady Anne could say to the arrangements.
The conversation centered on what game might be enjoyed by all after they finished eating.
"What about bowls?" Lord Henry suggested. "I noticed you have a neatly clipped alley not far from the quoits pegs."
"My husband was very fond of bowls. You have enough people to set up triplets." Great-Aunt Letitia gave them all a benign smile, and the matter appeared settled.
Nympha wondered if her elderly relative, so suave and knowing, would also settle who would be on each team.
Lady Anne took no notice of Mrs. Coxmoor's intention. She ate lightly, then commenced an across-the-table dialogue with Lord Nicholas, inquiring whether he knew this one or that person in London. Had he been to this rout or that ball, and surely he had attended the balloon ascension in Green Park?
Nick studied the pretty face across the table from him. He knew her sort, had encountered them often in his time while in London. Usually they focused on his older brother. But he had not escaped the matrimonial bazaar either—being deemed a fine catch. Wary covered his mood at the moment, but it would accelerate to watchful and cautious within minutes if she kept up in her attack.
Perhaps she was too aggressive, and that was why in her early twenties she was still unwed. He'd noticed that women tended to become a trifle desperate at that age, especially if they longed to leave home. And he was positive she craved freedom from her overpowering father. From all Nick had heard, the duke was a despot, ruling his entire family with an iron hand.
Mrs. Coxmoor rose from the table to escort them into the hall before they realized they were being led. Once again she marshaled the maid and Foley to assist the guests.
There was no particular order when they left the house after donning their outdoor apparel. Nympha briefly found herself next to Lord Nicholas. Lord Henry ambled along at her other side, offering suggestions on who ought to make up the teams.
Lady Anne fetched up before the neatly positioned bowling green, beaming a smile of goodwill at everyone, organizing with determination. "Lord Nicholas and Jane will be with me. Miss Herbert can champion Henry and Mr. Milburn. If things get too lopsided, we can always make a change later on."
Nympha had played with Adam any number of times, and she well recalled his strictures on rolling the bowl toward the little white jack at the far end, making allowances for the odd bias of the bowl. It took skill and cunning. Nympha noted Lord Nicholas was good, but Lord Henry and Mr. Milburn were equally good, and she was a dab hand as well.
Lady Anne was so-so, but Lady Jane was wretched. She spent more time admiring Mr. Milburn than perfecting her own game. Lady Anne flirted with Lord Nicholas, her delightful charm odiously evident to Nympha. She apparently did not care to concentrate on her game either. It was impossible for Lord Nicholas to compensate for both of them. He bore the disparity with good-natured humor that earned him respect from Nympha and Lord Henry as well, oddly enough.
When the game was over—due more to the increasing clouds overhead than the scores—Lady Anne smiled as though she had won, and clung to Lord Nicholas on the way to the house.
Nympha's heart sank as she realized who had won the day. It wasn't her team, although they had the higher score. It was Lady Anne Nelthorpe, who had walked off with her prize. Lord Nicholas Stanhope. The sight of him laughing down at that pretty face, framed with dark curls and possessing hazel eyes that fastened on his lordship with particular intensity, was chilling.
Nympha felt distinctly ill.
Chapter Eleven
Lord Nicholas had driven Lady Anne home to Nelthorpe Castle, leaving Lord Henry to tool Lady Jane in their carriage, with his horse trotting amiably behind.
Mr. Milburn escorted a suddenly frozen Nympha into the Hall with comforting sympathy. His consideration was a balm to her wounded self.
"Perhaps we could enjoy a cup of strong tea? The weather is becoming decidedly nasty out there." He spoke a few words to the ever-hovering Foley before guiding Nympha into the drawing room with the tenderest regard.
Foley brought a tray to the drawing room in short order. It held everything one could want. For tea, that is.
As she began to thaw she slipped off her pelisse and dropped her bonnet beside her on the sofa. Mr. Milburn poured her a cup of tea, nudging it into her fingers. He murmured soothing words designed to make her feel better.
Nympha wrapped her icy hands around the cup and took a sip. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Thank you. That was very kind of you to do. I had not realized how chilled I had become."
She said nothing about the slight from Lady Anne, for she felt that was what had happened. What a fool she was to think she might mix in this elevated company.
"I am not such a bad sort, you know."
At that bit of nonsense Nympha had to smile, and searched for something to say. "How is your uncle, sir?" Since Mr. Milburn appeared to spend much of his days at his uncle's home, he ought to know.
"I fear he will not live long. I try to rouse him, even brought his favorite liqueur for him to sip. There seems little the doctor can do for him."
"Has any sign of his heir been found? I should think it would be imperative for him to present himself at this time." Nympha shook off the hollow feeling in her chest, trying to offer intelligent conversation and sympathy.
"As to that, it is feared he met with an accident. He was last seen in London some weeks ago, but not since. He has apparently disappeared." He drained his cup, set it on the tray, then rose to pace back and forth before the fireplace. The fire offered warmth, but Nympha shivered just the same.
"What a pity. Do you know who is next in line?" She inquired more from politeness than real curiosity. She felt numb, if truth be told. She couldn't have imagined such pain she had felt as when she saw Lord Nicholas disappear down the drive with Lady Anne smiling so coquettishly up at him. It had stabbed her right in her heart.
"I am. Our family has always been a bit short of male heirs. So, that leaves me as the heir presumptive." His narrowed gaze was intent as he studied her where she sat huddled on the sofa.
"I forgot you mentioned that before." Something niggled at the back of Nympha's mind. She impatiently shook it off to offer felicitations of a sort. "I am very sorry your uncle has been so ill, but it will be good for you, I daresay. You will be Sir Jared Milburn, if I make no mistake."
"What a nice memory you have, dear Miss Herbert. This is quite remarkable, that you should remember my first name. Dare I hope that you made a point of fixing my name in your mind?" He paused in his pacing to study her, standing closer than she deemed necessary.
Nympha clasped her teacup before her mouth as though it would offer protection from the predatory gleam in his eyes. But was it predatory? Or was he simply admiring, perhaps flirting a little? What a poor honey she was, not to recognize flirting!
"My memory is likely no better than any other woman's ability to recall names and places." She glanced to the open door, pleased to note that Foley had taken up a position just outside it. Mr. Milburn might be the next baronet, but it didn't mean she wanted to be Lady Milburn! And that meant being chaperoned at all times when with Mr. Milburn.
"I cannot deny I will like a title, minor though it is. The estate is a lucrative one. I'll welcome the administration of it. I have always enjoyed a challenge."
And the income,
Nympha thought privately. Money again. No one ever seemed to have sufficient. She made no reply to his remark, not feeling equal to the topic.
"You will face a challenge as well, unless I miss my guess. Since you are heiress to your aunt, you will certainly wish to learn something of administration. It is a vast responsibility for so young a woman." His voice held warm sympathy and something else Nympha couldn't identify. However, it served to raise misgivings.
"I trust that will be years away, sir. I would like to know my great-aunt much better. She is such a delightful lady." The thought of that dear person brought forth a smile.
"Indeed, she is all of that. But I fancy you will marry, and your husband will assist you in all that must be done. It will require a man who is willing to study management of an enterprise." He took another perambulation before the fireplace before pausing again to ask, "Your costume is ready? The ball is soon."
"Yes, although I wonder just how many Maid Marians there will be in attendance." She stretched out her hand to set the teacup on the saucer, making a loud clink in the stillness of the room. His comment on marriage as solving all her problems rankled. Did he imply that she was not intelligent enough to administer the estate?
Likely with the help of the excellent managers her aunt had told her all about, it should be possible.
If she couldn't wed the man she loved, she would simply remain a spinster and devote her life to worthy projects and the running of her enterprises. Could there be anything more dreadful than to marry a man you could not love, and having him assume total control of your life? She had no illusions on this score. She had observed too many tyrannized wives to be unaware of the pitfalls in marriage. Her mother had offered comfort to many such women in the rectory drawing room while Nympha had tiptoed about doing her tasks.
"And Robin Hoods as well. I doubt there will be many King Johns in attendance." He placed his hands behind his back, standing before the fire, and in so doing blocking its warmth from reaching Nympha. She shivered again, wishing she might feel warm once more.
"Lord Henry said something about coming as the sheriff of Nottingham. I imagine that costume will be totally imaginary?" She debated whether to pour another cup of tea and decided against it.
"Well, as to that, it is a legend, you know. No proof exists that Robin Hood and his men, Maid Marian and Friar Tuck really lived."
"That is like so many things—an illusion."
"There you are, my dear." Great-Aunt Letitia walked into the room her gaze darting from Mr. Milburn to Nympha. "I thought you might have gone with the others to Nelthorpe Castle. You decided to remain at home?"
"I was cold. Mr. Milburn suggested a cup of hot tea would be beneficial." Although it had become brisk, Nympha knew her chill came from her heart, not the weather.
"That fire wants stirring up. Would you be so kind, Mr. Milburn? I shall ask Foley to have more coal brought immediately." She returned to the hall for a moment, coming back to settle on her favorite sofa.
While Mr. Milburn stirred the fire, Nympha had a chance to gather her pelisse and bonnet to bring to her room and thus escape the interrogation she sensed coming.
"I shall take these up and refresh myself at the same time." She waved gaily on her way from the room, not giving anyone time to offer comment.
The front door opened just as she crossed to the stairway that wound up to the first floor. She paused to see who it was, and was trapped in the cool stare of the man framed there.
"Lord Nicholas! I trust you had a pleasant drive. Is the castle as impressive as I have heard?" Her voice sounded strained to her ears.
"Why did you not join us and see for yourself? Lord Henry could have ridden his horse. You are more than capable of handling the gig from the castle." He stalked across to where she stood frozen in place.
"If you must know, I was not invited to join you. I make it a practice never to go where I am not wanted."
"What gave you the cork-brained notion you were not wanted?" He closed the gap between them, and she eased toward the stairs a few steps.
"I thought it quite clear, as a matter of fact. But then when one is wrapped up in another, it is sometimes difficult to see what is under one's nose." She flashed him a false smile, intent upon making her escape up the stairs.
She did not get very far. They were alone in the entry, Foley seeing to the matter of more coal for the drawing room fireplace. For some odd reason, he had not returned as yet.
Lord Nicholas grabbed her arms, looking absolutely furious. His hand clamped tightly, not allowing her to flee from him again. He had brought the freshness of the outdoors with him, and his hair was tousled from the wind, creating a style many a dandy would spend hours to achieve. His voice was rough, however, and his eyes threatened punishment, she thought.
"Never again, do you hear? If a situation like this arises again, you
will
join us."
"I am unaware that you have so much power over me, my lord. If I choose to remain at home with congenial company, I will do so." She peered behind him to the drawing room doorway. "Mr. Milburn was most kind, seeing to my comfort. Tea is an excellent restorative when one is chilled."
"Tea? That is all Milburn offered you?"
"I should think it quite enough, my lord."
He checked the drawing room doorway, taking note no doubt, of what she had observed. They were unseen by those close to the fire.
With her hands full of pelisse and bonnet, there was little Nympha could do to fend off anything—even if she had wanted to ward way this seething man. He was angry, but not truly frightening.