Once inside, she handed her cloak to Foley, and when he informed them that a meal was to be had in the small dining room, she went that way. It would be lovely to have a cup of hot tea.
Lord Nicholas was seated at the table reading a newspaper from Nottingham. He displayed astonishment at the sight of them. "Egad, Milburn, out and about at this hour of the day? Good morning, Miss Herbert. It does not surprise me in the least to see you with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. I've seen them often enough. But Milburn?"
She shot him an annoyed look, then busied herself with the offering of foods at the sideboard.
"Actually, I found it quite invigorating. Rare display of tulips, wouldn't you say, Miss Herbert?"
"That is certainly true." She glanced at the two men, then applied her attention to the assortment of food on her plate. What really captured her thoughts was the unusual amount of interest Mr. Milburn showed in the village murder. But then, since murder was not committed every day, perhaps it was not all that strange.
"What do you have planned for the day, Miss Herbert?"
"She will go with me to Mansfield to select some lace," Mrs. Coxmoor said from the doorway. "I fancy that is at the top of her list of things to do. Am I not right?"
Nympha gave her great-aunt an amazed look. She had not expected to see her relative so early in the day.
"I should like that very much. Lord Nicholas, do you intend to go into Mansfield as well? Perhaps you might find the person you seek?"
"By all means. Lord Nicholas, do join us." Her great-aunt turned her attention to Mr. Milburn. "Should you wish to ride while we are gone, there are mounts in the stables that might please you."
So ... Mr. Milburn was not invited to go with them. Nympha found this odd, but she wasn't about to say anything. Although she had believed she didn't care for Lord Nicholas, she found she far preferred him to Mr. Milburn.
"I should enjoy that very much, ma'am. The country hereabouts looks interesting, and I would learn something of my uncle. Perhaps he is at home and will receive me."
"There, then. I suspected that is what you would prefer." Mrs. Coxmoor accepted the cup of tea Foley poured for her, then sat next to Nympha. "We shall have a fine time hunting for lace. I am determined to send packets to the other ladies in your family."
For perhaps the hundredth time Nympha wondered why she had been selected to visit instead of one of the others, and this time she set the question forth to her great-aunt.
"You have my middle name. I am Letitia Elspeth and you are Nympha Elspeth. You did not know that?"
"No, indeed, I did not. How lovely," Nympha said truthfully. She was coming to like the sprightly lady more and more.
"Well, once you are all satisfied here, we will be off to the delights of the lace to be found. I trust you will occupy yourself, Mr. Milburn? If we are late to lunch, I have instructed Foley to see that something is served in the event you become hungry."
Mr. Milburn expressed his appreciation even as Lord Nicholas and Nympha left the table to prepare for the excursion to the town where such gorgeous lace might be seen and bought.
Thus it was that when Nympha entered the shiny landau to head for Mansfield, she caught sight of Mr. Milburn headed down the avenue ahead of them.
"He looks to be going the same direction as we shall," Great-Aunt Letitia murmured to Lord Nicholas. "I wonder why he did not say he intended to go to Mansfield? Not that it would have made any difference, mind you."
If Nympha was curious to know what her great-aunt meant by this observation, she wasn't to know. Nothing more was said on the matter as the carriage rolled down the avenue.
Chapter Five
After a bit of silence Mrs. Coxmoor asked, "Do you play tennis, my lord?"
"Tennis, ma'am?" Lord Nicholas looked as confused as Nympha felt.
"I have had a neat little court some distance from the house. I thought perhaps one or both of you might enjoy the game. Perhaps Mr. Milburn as well?" Mrs. Coxmoor folded her hands on her lap, looking for all the world as though she sat in her drawing room rather than bouncing along a country road in a closed landau.
The carriage rolled onto the main road leading to Mansfield.
"As to that, ma'am," Nick replied, "I have played some while in London. There is a tennis court just off Piccadilly. Several of us enjoy a hard game now and again. Scropes Davies is a splendid player and a good opponent—almost a professional. Have you learned the game. Miss Herbert?"
Nympha calmly returned his look. Did he assume she was so provincial she wouldn't have even heard of it? "My father does not consider it seemly for us to play tennis, although I have observed the game. My sisters and I have played battledore and shuttlecock, sir,"
"Similar games," Great-Aunt Letitia declared. If she observed Nympha's annoyance when Lord Nicholas addressed her, she gave no indication of it. "I would appreciate it if you would teach Nympha, my lord. Do you know if Mr. Milburn also plays?"
"I believe I have seen him at the London court, although he's not been my partner."
Nympha frowned while staring out of the window. She couldn't imagine why her great-aunt was the least interested in their playing tennis!
"And archery? I trust you both indulge in that sport?" her great-aunt persisted.
Nympha shook her head, definitely puzzled.
Lord Nicholas smiled. "You are trying to make me out the sportsman, I gather? I also enjoy archery, although I do not belong to the Toxophilic Society. Our Prince Regent used to be active there, I believe."
"But now he is too fat, I imagine." Great-Aunt Letitia sniffed. "I think were he to exercise more, and eat less, he would find himself in better health. I enjoy a number of outdoor activities. I was used to play tennis, but my health no longer permits it. However, archery is one of my enjoyments. We shall indulge in a few matches while you are here."
Nympha exchanged a guarded look with Lord Nicholas. She had observed his mother walking across the fields to paint a watercolor. It was quite something else to partake of a round of archery with a lady who was rising seventy!
The matter was set aside when they approached the town. A neat wooden sign proclaimed they were entering Mansfield Woodhouse.
"You merely call it Mansfield. It seems to have another name attached." Nympha gazed about with curious eyes as the carriage jounced on the cobbled street.
"Simpler to keep to the one. Now, we shall meet in the Mansfield Arms for a nuncheon. We shall be mostly in the marketplace, but I think we will also stop at a few of the shops on Stockwell Gate. I requested we be set down in front of Binch's. I want some silk thread, and I am persuaded that Nympha had best select a few ells of silk and muslin. Will you join us, Lord Nicholas?"
Nick immediately agreed, recalling the slip of paper he had found in the dead man's pocket that had the name of Binch on it and that his hostess had slipped into her reticule. He was not certain what Mrs. Coxmoor had in mind, but he would take advantage of so innocuous a visit.
Miss Herbert gave him an apprehensive stare that quite decided him. Did she think he might poke his nose into her selection of fabrics and color? Upon reflection, he might.
"I should be pleased to join you, ma'am." He exited the carriage first and assisted the women. Mrs. Coxmoor wore lemon kid gloves of the finest quality, and stepped from the carriage with smart confidence.
Miss Herbert placed her hand in his with obvious reluctance. He noted she wore exquisitely mended white cotton gloves. Her hand trembled slightly, and he wondered why. Surely she did not believe he would think ill of her for having mended gloves! He was too well aware of the circumstances of her family to censure her for that. He could only admire her poise in the face of something that must cause her chagrin.
Mrs. Coxmoor swanned into the shop with the assurance worthy of a duchess. Mr. Binch—Nick assumed that must be the chap—bowed to her with considerable deference. Well, that wasn't surprising. She could probably buy the entire town of Mansfield and not notice a loss.
"Good morning, Mr. Binch. I require some silk threads, blue, mostly. And my grandniece wants some of your finest silks and muslins. I intend to have Mrs. Rankin make up some dresses for her." She proceeded to a case where the packets of silk thread were to be found, but not before she had a chance to hand Nick the sketch of the dead man.
Nick waited until the array of silk and muslin fabrics had captivated Miss Herbert before he motioned to the shopkeeper. Offering the drawing to him, he asked if the face seemed familiar.
"Aye, it does somewhat, although I cannot recall why. I know I have seen someone who had those looks. Searching for a gentleman, are you?"
Nick ignored the curiosity in his voice and eyes. "That I am, or someone who recalls seeing him." He would give no particulars. How could he come out and say he hunted for relatives of a dead man killed with his own golf club? That might bring an interesting reaction, but hardly the one he desired.
"I will be staying in the area for a time with Mrs. Coxmoor. Should you think of anyone who looks similar to this drawing, I would appreciate it if you could get word to me."
"Now if you were to leave that drawing with me, I might be able to reflect a bit, have it come to me."
Nick wasn't about to let his original drawing out of his hands again. "Tell you what, I'll make a copy and leave it with you as soon as I can."
The fellow looked disappointed, but not for long.
The widow found the silk thread she wanted, then moved to where bolts of fabric were arranged.
Nick sauntered over to join the ladies.
Miss Herbert appeared on the verge of objecting to the purchase Mrs. Coxmoor had in mind. "I do not require so many gowns, ma'am. Half a dozen!"
"Lord Nicholas, indulge me with your opinion. I say this blue silk, that lilac India muslin, the cherry-striped percale, and I believe the blue-spotted muslin. Perhaps some of the fine white satin as well. What do you say, my lord?"
Nick glanced at the embarrassed Miss Herbert and barely suppressed a grin. "My sister-in-law favors white muslin for morning wear. Why not add a length of this . . . What do you call this?" he asked the proprietor, gesturing to a bolt of pale pinkish fabric.
"That is our finest blush-colored sarcenet, my lord," Mr. Binch replied in an obsequious manner.
"The very thing, sir." Mrs. Coxmoor gestured to the stack. "We shall have lengths of them all, Mr. Binch."
While she oversaw the cutting of each length, checking for any flaws in the fabrics. Miss Herbert motioned Nick to the other side of the large shop. Suspecting he was in for a scold, Nick suppressed a grin and followed her.
"Lord Nicholas, I do not approve of such extravagance. You did not have to abet her!" She sounded like his nanny.
"But, my fair one, she wanted me to do just that."
"I am not your fair one!" she insisted with a flash of her very fine blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with indignation.
He was tempted to tweak the curl that peeked out from under her chip bonnet. He enjoyed teasing her. She was such a responsive woman. He couldn't help but wonder what she would be like in his arms. He suspected the blushing that so often cursed fair-skinned blondes concealed a passionate nature.
"I am glad I suggested that sarcenet. It will natter you no end. The blue silk as well. Come now, you cannot deny you would like a few pretty gowns? If it gives your great-aunt pleasure, give in gracefully. Besides, it is my understanding she has no children. Pray, who else will she spend her money on?"
"I did not come here to spend her money," Miss Herbert said with the characteristic stubbornness Nick was coming to know. How could she in the past have listened to him without comment when he talked about his golf links? Or had she pretended her attentiveness? Had he been so absorbed in his own passion for golf that he totally missed her reaction?
"What are you thinking about?" she quietly demanded so as not to draw attention to them.
"I am wondering about you, Miss Herbert. The real you." He tilted his head to study her, realizing he did wish to know more about her, what pleased her.
"I fear there is nothing to know about me that you do not already know. After all, we have seen each other most of our lives." Her eyes held a wary note in them.
"Ah, there you are wrong, my dear. I am coming to believe there is a great deal to you that I wish to know."
He particularly wanted to know why Milburn had made such a dead set at her since their arrival at Coxmoor Hall. Nick watched her closely. She looked flustered, fidgeting with her reticule.
Nick smiled inwardly. He was about to rejoin Mrs. Coxmoor when Miss Herbert spoke. "It must be difficult for you to leave your home while it is so close to being completed," she blurted, surprising him with the change of topic. She did
not
want to talk about herself.
But it was her words that returned his gaze to her. "And how do you know the house is close to completion? I was unaware that the village knew what was going on in the interior."
"Rubbish, my lord. I have viewed the exterior from a distance, and know it is almost finished—save for a bit of trim. Word has it that the only lack inside is finishing—like the paneling in your library, and the color for the silk to be hung on your drawing-room walls."
Nick grinned. "How fortunate that Napoleon didn't have spies as good as our villagers. You forgot the wainscoting for the dining room, as well as the paper for the walls above it. How is it that you are able to see the exterior so well? You cannot see it from the road."
She looked uncomfortable, remarkably so. She shifted from one foot to the other. He'd be willing to bet that she would have escaped from him if she could see a way around him. As it was, slipping past him would require a touching of bodies, something he suspected would cause the pretty Miss Herbert to blush more than pink.
"Well, tell me. I must rectify the lack of privacy." He decided to tease her a bit, for she was so rewarding to torment.