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“You can sit where you want once we obtain the brazier and some warm stones,” he said as if explaining the movement of clouds to a child. “But I won’t allow you to catch a chill because you’re miffed that I won’t deflower you in a coach.”
“I didn’t—”
“I expect thoughts in that pretty head, Amy. Not just fashions and fripperies.”
She nodded slowly but otherwise kept very still. “Of course. I p—promise, I’m not miffed. Perhaps ... disappointed. Not about the coach or ... um, I won’t let it happen again.”
He sighed, and his grip on her arm lightened. “Let me be exceedingly clear: I don’t care to be an overbearing husband. But I expect you to consider your health somewhat above the gratifying pleasure of a sulk. Though I suppose if you’re only in this carriage to escape your father, a fatal case of pneumonia works as well as a wedding.”
Amelia scowled. “I refuse to let that man outlive me. And it was not to sulk.” She shifted against him again to better look up into his handsome face. “I already admitted I was disappointed. But that’s not why—”
“Feeling too warm?” The acerbic edge to his voice bit harder than the cold.
“Among other things.” Amy exhaled, hoping the tightness in her chest might dissipate. “I thought it’d be easier to resist temptation given some space.”
His grin flashed in the uncertain light. “If I feel unable to resist, I’ll tell you. And I suspect I can fend you off, even if you plan on going mad.” His hand moved along her shoulder, and a single leather-gloved fingertip traced her neck, just above her pelisse’s high collar, below her bonnet. “As it happens, I rather enjoy the suspense. Wondering if you’ll lose your nerve by morning—”
“You seem sure that I’ll run.” She took hold of his hand despite knowing she had little control over what he did with it. “Did you forget whose idea this was in the first place?”
Something she would’ve called pity in a less capricious character shone in his eyes. “It’s easy to be brave in the world that you know. It becomes much more difficult out in the wild.”
“I suspect I prefer the wild.”
“Let us hope.”
The carriage rocked harder, finding yet another of the road’s endless ruts. Nicholas sighed, bracing himself on the wall and tightening his arm around Amy, still more like a companionable kinsman than a groom, but she found herself enjoying his closeness.
“I’ve seen plenty of privates marching blithely off to war until the anchors lift and the sails swell, and the truth sinks in that their way home is lost forever. You may find yourself considering the faces of servants, friends, and dearest cousins, and discover in the cold morning light that never speaking with them again hurts far more than you expect.”
Amy let his words sink in. “And if, in the morning, you find I’ve quit your company, would you be relieved?”
“Not precisely.” Nicholas’ shoulder lifted in a shrug. “My accounts are running thin, and your inheritances will be deeply appreciated. But I appreciate that you are a lovely girl with quick wits and a pleasant disposition, Amy Sunderland. I’m not so callous as to destroy a fragile young woman’s reputation without regret.”
She couldn’t argue. The rumors about his spent fortune were why she’d chosen him. And yet the bitter sting in her chest remained. “I appreciate your consideration, but I’ve made peace with my decision. I look forward to conversing with you once you have no more reason to doubt my resolve.”
“Very well. But while you mull things over tonight and no doubt speak with Juliet on the topic of matrimony, consider that I’m thirty years of age. And half that spent on campaigns from India to Spain. You’re all of ... what? Nineteen, isn’t it?”
“I’ll be twenty in a few months.”
“Yes.” His eyes rolled. “And all you’ve known so far is home and Town and perhaps a house or two besides. Becoming my wife puts you very much in my power.” Nicholas held her shoulder through the next jostling, bone-rattling bounces, and his gloved hand once more found the chink of skin in her endless wraps, sending shivers of a different sort from her exposed skin. “You and your inheritance.”
“I’m aware,” Amy said, huddling closer to him.
“And I am trying to conduct this escapade in a manner that will not condemn us to comfortable accounts and mutual misery. That requires your assistance. If you’re here in the morning, I wish you to be clear about what you want as Lady Clarendel.”
Thrown awkwardly against his broad chest, Amy mulled over his words, repeating them silently. Do I tell him the full tale? But he was not yet bound to her by law. If she explained things, what if he called her mad and abandoned her?
“I understand.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “In the morning, I promise to give you that clarity.” But tonight, she needed to figure out what words to use. How to say it without being abandoned in Scotland.
“Good.” Nicholas groaned at the sudden, deafening clatter of hooves on wood—they’d reached a bridge. “I wish the roads were in better condition. We might pass the time easier with cards. But the first inn isn’t far. We’ll get the brazier and hot stones. With some warmth, it’ll be easier to rest until we stop for the night.”
Amy doubted she’d care about anything in the inn beyond a warm hearth and the chance to question Lady Mornington about Clarendel. “I wouldn’t mind hearing a story if you’ve a mind to tell one.” She suspected he could read a ship manifest, and she’d hang on his every word.
“Do you object to battles and soldiers? There’s probably a brothel or two in it.”
“I’m already fascinated.”
“I may or may not have been in escorting the beautiful young wife of a much older officer—”
