nonplussed.
Tying her bonnet’s ribbons, she grinned. “Never feel you cannot be completely candid with me, Nic. Chafed your pride isn’t at all the same as chafed your arse. The duke was a selfish, inconsiderate blackguard for what he did to you, her grace, and his other offspring. You’ve been remarkably civilized and shown great restraint in a deucedly awkward circumstance. I’m not at all sure I could have been as gracious.”
“Has anyone ever told you how refreshingly honest you are, Miss Needham?” Nic chuckled and tucked the curl teasing her cheek beneath her bonnet’s rim. “I quite like it.” He touched her nose and winked. “I quite like you.”
Best to ignore that last bit, though her woman’s pride puffed proudly. Gathering her wits, which had scattered about the entry like minute dust particles floating in the sun, Katrina pulled a face. “Yes, it is an unfortunate habit. I’ve been known to say the most shocking and improper things. Mama tells me it will land me in a scrape one day.”
“Well, promise you’ll always be entirely straightforward with me.” Nic opened the door, but didn’t step through. “When are you to wed?”
Katrina eyed the driver patiently standing beside Papa’s carriage. “No date has been set. Actually, Major Domont hasn’t asked Papa for my hand yet. He’s promised to as soon as he returns from Cambridge.” He’s taking his dratted sweet time. “I expect we’ll announce our official betrothal at the Wimpletons’ winter ball.”
Why had she confessed that drivel? Nic didn’t need to hear her personal business. Perhaps he’d decided his request to help him find a duchess had imposed since she was about to marry. The notion distressed her more than it ought to.
“A major in His Majesty’s Army. An honorable profession.” Nic opened the door. “I greatly admire men committed to serving the crown and protecting Britain.”
“Don’t you do much the same? I’d vow your vocation is as worthy and certainly at least as dangerous. Probably more so.” It astounded her that she meant every word when, an hour ago, she’d considered him and his chosen profession improper. A cool breeze ruffled her hem, and she grinned again. “And I dare say, you’ve had grand adventures. I should love to hear of them sometime.”
Instead of taking her arm, Nic tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and escorted her down the short flight of stairs. Her hand nestled against his side felt so right, so comfortable, she couldn’t object.
Frost dotted the ground where the feeble sunlight failed to penetrate, and she shivered. Beastly hot inside and monstrously cold without. How could a person accommodate such extremes?
“Have you known the major long, Miss Needham?” Nic bent his neck to ask the question, and his breath tickled her ear.
“Since September.” Katrina tipped her chin, her face but inches from his. He did have amber and gold shards in his eyes. That was what gave them the yellowish tint.
He scrutinized his aunt’s overgrown yard, the sagging fence, and the tilting chimney before lowering his gaze. “A love match, I presume? And of course, he’s tall, dark, and ever-so-handsome in his scarlet uniform.”
Katrina gave one partial nod, not at all certain the conversation should continue. She didn’t want to speak of Richard with Nic. To do so marred the natural affinity that had sprung up between them. Her reluctance to disturb their kinship ought to have her darting straight for the carriage without a backward glance.
Instead, she murmured, “Couples should marry for love, should they not?”
“Aye, whenever possible.” Nic smiled, a cordial arcing of his handsome mouth, exposing a dimple in his right cheek. “I’m glad for you. I hope, with your assistance, I might find a portion of your joy.” He lifted a shoulder an inch. “Still, I’d be content with a kind, patient, and faithful woman. Even if she doesn’t love me.”
Katrina
Brenda Clark, Paulette Bourgeois