The four of them were being highly uncooperative.
Soon, the entire group was ready to go out for the day. Her Grace of Aylesbury, Lady Pratley, and Lady Coulter also decided to come along, with Aurora’s father offering to escort them. Sir Augustus and Lord Rotheby preferred to keep court at the abbey. Once all the ladies had fetched their gloves and traded soft caps for bonnets, and the gentlemen had donned their beaver hats and gloves and fetched parasols to carry for the ladies, they made their way outside to the four awaiting carriages.
“Miss Coulter,” Aurora said, attempting to direct the members of the shopping party to the appropriate conveyances to achieve the pairings she preferred, “why do you and Sir Jonas not ride with Quin and me? Then perhaps Lord Tucker and Lord Merrick would be so kind as to escort Lady Rebecca and Lady Emily in the second carriage…”
Her voice trailed off as Lord Tucker placed Miss Vivian Osbourne’s hand upon the crook of his arm and guided her into the third carriage with Mr. Bentley and the elder Miss Osbourne, leaving Rebecca to (once again) be paired with Lord Norcutt. Blast them all. They were ruining her fun.
“Come along, love.” Quin placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the first carriage, where Nia and Sir Jonas were already firmly seated—on opposite benches, pressed back against the squabs as if their lives depended upon it—leaving her no choice but to take up the seat next to the girl.
She let out a huff of air as she sat, crossing her arms over her chest and thoroughly resisting the urge to hide her sulk.
“Are you unhappy?” Nia asked in her soft, sweet voice. “I thought you wanted to go shopping today. We could stay behind”
“We most certainly will
not
stay behind,” Aurora responded a mite more sharply than she intended. But she would not give Nia an opportunity to avoid being in Sir Jonas’s company. Not if she could thrust them together at every turn. And clearly, they needed some encouragement. “I do wish to go into town. And I wish for you to have a lovely time today. I’m sure Sir Jonas will be certain you see everything you wish to see, so please do not fret on my account.”
The carriages rolled to a stop almost before they had started, it seemed, and the coachmen stepped down to let out the steps and hand them out on High Street. The shops here certainly did not hold the appeal of the finest in London, but they would have to do for an afternoon excursion in the country.
Indeed, Aurora had not yet visited town to discover the wares for herself. But Forster and Mrs. Marshall had assured her that the goods they sold were of excellent quality, and that the young ladies would certainly find something upon which to spend their pin money.
It seemed they were right. The milliner boasted any number of lovely straw bonnets lined with ribbons and flowers. At the haberdashery, a broad assortment of ribbons and bows were found that the ladies could then use to make their gowns for the upcoming ball a bit more special than they already were. The linen draper even had a number of lengths of fine muslins and silks available. Down at the end of the street near where their carriages waited for their return sat a small sweet shop.
The various pairs set off, the ladies to make their purchases, and the gentlemen to carry them. Except Nia did not seem to want to leave Aurora’s side. In fact, she latched on to Aurora’s free arm (the other one being occupied with holding Quin’s) instead of allowing Sir Jonas to escort her. It was almost infuriating how shy she was.
“Oh, look over there, Nia,” she said after several minutes of walking about High Street in a group of four, instead of the intended groups of two. “Do you see that lovely bonnet in the window? The one with the bluebells upon it. I think that would look lovely with your coloring, don’t you agree?” Before the chit could respond in the negative, Aurora slipped Nia’s hand free and placed it upon Sir Jonas’s waiting arm, then practically shoved them across the street. “Sir Jonas, would you be so kind as to take Miss Coulter to visit the milliner?”
Nia turned her head with her mouth open, as though to protest.
“Oh, dear. Perhaps your father has not given you enough pin money,” Aurora continued, fishing around in her reticule to pull free some coins. She shoved them into Sir Jonas’s free hand. “This should certainly be enough. We shall meet up with you later! I daresay I cannot wait to see how stunning you look in that shade, Nia.”
And with that, she walked away, nearly dragging Quin along behind her when he did not come as soon as she would have liked.
“What was that about?” he asked when they were out of earshot of the other couple and finally slowed their pace.
Aurora frowned at him. “What was what about?” Really, it wasn’t as though she was making any secret of her intentions. The man would have to be daft not to realize that she was matchmaking.
“I don’t like that you’re perpetually putting my sister together with Jonas. He’s nearly old enough to be her father.”
“But he’s
not
her father,” Aurora said with a roll of her eyes. “And you can hardly say anything about it with how you have avoided the girl her entire life. Besides, Sir Jonas is almost like a brother to her, she tells me. That’s all.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you believe she thinks of him as a brother,” Quin retorted. “I’ve seen how she watches him. He isn’t good for her, Aurora.”
Oh, dear good Lord, the man had picked a rather inopportune moment to suddenly recognize his brotherly duty. “Her mother and father don’t seem to agree with your assessment. Nor do I. In fact, I think Sir Jonas is rather perfect for Nia. Far more important than any of that, however, is what Nia thinks. You said yourself that you see how she”
Aurora stopped short when a sharp pain stabbed her midsection. She placed a hand to her abdomen and bent over slightly. It felt similar to those pains she would often get with her courses. But she couldn’t…
“What is it?” Quin asked, bending over her. “What’s wrong? The baby?” He looked at her with his blue eyes awash with fear.
But just as soon as it came, it was gone. It was almost as though she had imagined it, as though it weren’t real. Perhaps it had only been her imagination. “Nothing. I’m all right.”
Aurora straightened herself and started to walk again, but Quin placed a hand on her arm, his grip like a vise. He implored her with his eyes.
“Truthfully, it was nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. The baby will be fine.”
She hoped.
~ * ~
Quin didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe his wife was fine or that his baby would be fine. She hadn’t looked fine when she had nearly collapsed on High Street, doubled over in pain and with her face as pale as a sheet.
He didn’t believe Nia or Jonas, either, when they climbed into the carriage for the return to the abbey, claiming that nothing had happened between them, despite the fact that they returned to the carriage with guilty expressions upon both their faces. Nia was looking up at Jonas far more often than she was normally wont to do, and now Jonas had started to peek across at her as well.
Neither of which sat well with Quin. He may not have been the best brother for Nia all along, but he was still her older brother, by Jove. And the thought of Jonas, at thirty years of age, chasing after the seventeen-year-old girl’s skirts was enough to send Quin’s blood to boiling.
Blast his meddlesome wife. She ought to put her mind to her own matters. After all, they certainly had more than enough matters in need of minding, at the moment.
Or, perhaps more importantly even than those matters, she ought to rest. Was it not important for an expectant mother to rest? Wasn’t that why they had their confinement periods and the like? Quin really wanted to send the entire lot of their guests away, however inappropriate such an action might be. Aurora didn’t need the added worry of finding ways to entertain all of these people, let alone of planning a ball.
Needless to say, he was caught woolgathering later that evening, when Norcutt came over to him in the salon after supper.
“Might I beg a moment of your time, Quinton?” the man asked when he finally caught Quin’s attention. “There is a favor I must ask of you.”
Quin nodded his agreement and followed as Norcutt led him out to the veranda.
Once outside, the marquess clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly, shifting from one foot to the other. There were damned better uses for Quin’s time.
“Out with it,” he half-shouted to the nitwit standing before him, causing the other man to jump.
“Y-yes, of course,” Norcutt replied. “I do apologize for my nerves, Quinton. It is just that I intend to make an offer for Lady Rebecca tomorrow afternoon. I have already obtained His Grace’s approval, of course. We discussed matters long before I traveled. But I wondered, if she should accept, which I do hope with all that I am she does because I will feel quite the fool otherwise, but if she should accept, might we make the announcement to your guests at supper tomorrow evening? If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, of course. I would not want to impose upon either you or Lady Quinton, as you’ve been such agreeable hosts.”
Quin chuckled. “Stop rambling, man.” Gesturing to a bench, he made his way over and took a seat. “You are more than welcome to make your announcement at any time. Just give me a nod, and I’ll get everyone’s attention for you.”
A mass of air flew from the man’s lips as he took a seat beside Quin. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you”
“Slow down and breathe, to start,” Quin said jovially. Thank God he hadn’t had as much time to think about making his offer to Aurora. There’d been no time for nervous behavior at all. Not that he was the nervous sort. “Honestly, there is nothing to repay. Now, tell me. Have you decided how to go about it?”
Norcutt nodded vigorously. “I shall take her for a walk. Through the park over there,” he said, pointing toward a copse of trees alongside a path. “And once I have her alone, I’ll get down to my knees and ask the question.”
Hmm. The path Norcutt had chosen was not a particularly beautiful path—not something memorable, like Lady Rebecca would likely prefer. Ladies did tend to have rather grand ideas about how certain events should play out, after all. There were at least a
few
things Quin had learned in his marriage.
“Instead of the path you had chosen,” he said, “perhaps I might make a suggestion?” Quin pointed over the hill off to the side of the abbey. “If you follow the pea-gravel path over the hill, you’ll come to a lovely spot beside a small hermitage at the river. I’ll have Cook put together a picnic basket for you. Sit beneath the great oak and ask her there.”
That spot needed more pleasant memories. It needed more beauty. The time had arrived to move on.
~ * ~
Aurora sat in the shade of a beech tree just off the kitchen garden with the older and married ladies, watching as Nia and Lady Emily and the two Miss Osbournes all painted the landscape with their watercolors. She’d never had a taste for painting. Perhaps because she was a rather poor artist. She preferred to think her dearth of talent in that arena stemmed from her distaste for it rather than the other way around.
Quin and the other gentlemen (save Lord Rotheby, who had declared it high time he took a nap of an afternoon) had snuck off earlier to do a mite of game hunting, which didn’t particularly bother Aurora, since the weather was lovely and the ladies wished to be out of doors with their feminine pursuits.
What did bother Aurora, however, was that Lord Norcutt had not gone with the other gentlemen. Not only that, but Rebecca was not out with the other young ladies. Instead, the two of them were off by the river having a picnic. Alone.
Scandalous
. And Aurora couldn’t for the life of her understand why Rebecca would choose to do something scandalous with Norcutt, of all the gentlemen she could have chosen from. It made absolutely no sense. But Lady Aylesbury had seen no harm in it, and had even neglected to insist a maid go along to chaperone them. It was hardly Aurora’s place to contradict the duchess, despite the obvious flaw in her line of thinking.