Mary Moore - The Aristocrat's Lady

She underwent another mood change, but it did not appear to be a dark one as before. He leaned closer to hear her softly spoken words and quickly had the thought that he liked the physical closeness communicating with her required.

“My lord … I mean Devlin, if you are sincere in your wish, you may certainly call me Nicole.” With downcast eyes she continued, “Indeed, I think my father would have liked you very much, and would be glad to know that someone carries on the tradition. And thank you for the wonderful compliment.”

He thought she was trying to cover embarrassment by teasing him. “Had you ever seen me at home riding astride Solomon, you would have no trouble addressing me as Nick!”

He determined to keep her thoughts buoyed. “If that was a wonderful compliment, I believe you have been hanging around some very dull dogs. It appears I will not have to pull out all of the stops to impress you. And I think I should give a king’s ransom to see you riding astride!” Her smile satisfied him.

He teased as well, but he was acutely aware of times she faced an inner struggle and would gently nudge her back to the present with a common question or remark.

“Very well,” she laughed. “You must forgive my wandering mind. There is so much to enjoy that I hate to spoil it. I would much prefer to hear about the places you have traveled or people you have met.” Nicole paused, chewing on her lower lip. “To own the truth, I should even like to know about your clubs and … Tattersalls! Why do they think a woman should not purchase her own horses?” She seemed to shake herself mentally. “In any event, as those places are closed to women, I have no way to picture them.”

Devlin laughed wholeheartedly. He thought she might be expecting a set-down and was pleased to see the smile on her face.

“I hope, Nicole, we shall have many more such outings and I promise to tell you all of the secrets of a man’s world in London. Today, however, we are talking of you.”

She was embarrassed at first, but she did as he asked. “I am three and twenty years old, so you can see that I am quite on the shelf! I grew up on our estate in Cheltenham. Beaufort Hall is such a beautiful place, and my father was only really happy when he was there. The only time he went to Town was to do his duty as a Member of Parliament.”

Nicole averted her eyes, a habit he noticed she frequently employed. “He believed the love of God, sincerity and loyalty, friendship, caring for others, and honesty to be the Golden Rule of one’s life and not the exception.” She stopped for a moment, and then added, “I only wish it were possible for us to live up to those standards.” She reddened and finished, “I am afraid I often fall short.”

Devlin felt the need to reassure her. “I know some of the world do not concern themselves overmuch with honesty and loyalty. However, we cannot assume the guilt of others. You and I have already decided upon candidness, have we not?”

Nicole’s brows furrowed for an instant, but it was gone so quickly he was not entirely sure it was ever there.

“If only we could live with complete honesty, what a better world it would be.” She gave a pregnant pause, and then continued, he thought, in a sardonic way. “We would have to tell poor Lady Swathmore her turbans were monstrous and Sir Richard that his famous waistcoats were abominable.”

He chuckled at the picture she presented, though her words did not convey what she had actually been thinking. He wondered at the kind of problems this lovely woman faced that sometimes seemed to take her somewhere else, while all the time remaining in his presence.

“What else would you like to know, my lord?”

“When you spoke of your father, a distant memory came to me about your parents. I believe your mother is the daughter of a viscount, is she not? And she was his only child, I think?”

“Yes, she was. Her father had been somewhat displeased not to have a male heir, but he did not disdain the distant cousin who would inherit the title. As several of my grandfather’s estates were not entailed, he specifically willed property and a generous dowry to Mama. But when she married Papa, she gave up the glitter of Town life to live with him at Beaufort Hall.”

“But your father, he was one of … seven, if I remember correctly.”

“You are correct. Father knew he would inherit the title, but he often lamented being the oldest. Had he not been, I believe he would have been a member of the clergy. He was interested in education and spiritual matters from an early age.”

Nicole sighed in frustration. “Are you sure you wish me to go on with this?” she queried.

“By all means, I assure you I am riveted.” “My mother’s parents were not happy with the match. They did not like that she was ‘buried’ in the country away from all her friends and the diversity of Society. But Mama had been spoiled from birth, so she could not be gainsaid. She immersed herself with father’s people and, for the most part, has always been quite content there.”

She let out a breath, happy that he had his information. However, he was not quite finished.

“I assume their happiness increased tenfold with the birth of their baby daughter?”

“Your sarcasm leaves little to be desired, my lord.” She pretended hurt feelings, but he saw the amusement in the appearance of one lone dimple.

“I was not being sarcastic, and I thought we agreed on Devlin.”

She hurried on before he could speak again. “My parents had a heart for children.” They had already planned a school for the little ones of the local gentry and the tenants who could spare them.

“My father was the most giving of men—of his time, his money, even just his ear—and I loved helping him tend the estate. It was a wonderful childhood. Unfortunately my mother’s parents were killed in a carriage accident soon after I was born.” She did not go to her dark place at these words. He wondered at it. But her eyes crinkled with her smile and she said, “Ten years later we were surprised by the birth of Chelsea.”

Devlin felt the old questions coming to the surface as they sometimes did when he was with his grandmother.

How could she believe a loving God would take her grandparents in a carriage accident so suddenly when they had only just begun to enjoy being a family? He wanted to ask her because somehow he thought she could explain it to him in a way his own grandmother could not. They were almost back in Berkeley Square, and somehow he knew it would be an intense conversation; perhaps it would be better saved for a later date.

She had already been speaking again during his thoughts. “… yes, you may groan at the word. I am quite the bluestocking!”

How very different she was from anyone he had ever met! All the more because she had no way of knowing that being well-read was not disparaging in his eyes. And despite her horrified whisper, he knew she really did not care whether she had horrified him or not. He could not come up with the proper rejoinder before she started again.

“But the Bible has always been my favorite book. I love the idea that man could, with God’s help, achieve the wisdom of Solomon. Indeed, that is how my horse got his name!”

He somehow felt her every nuance, that she felt pleased when he understood when she was serious and when she was teasing.

“There is not much more to tell, to be honest. The rest is a little hard for me to talk about. My father got sick when I was seventeen, and he never recovered. I treasure the last few weeks I had with him.” She kept talking, but he noticed the lone tear that ran down her cheek. “Of course Mama was devastated, and though Chelsea could not quite grasp what was happening, she knew her world was changing. It was one of the darkest periods of my life.”