Blackwood's Lady. Gail Whitiker
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importantly, I will honour, respect and revere you, Lady Nicola,’ David said softly. ‘That much I can promise you, from this day forward.’
David wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his admission—Lady Nicola, or himself. He couldn’t remember ever having spoken so openly to anyone before. But she wasn’t to know that he had been suffering pangs of conscience ever since she had asked him if he liked children, and his answer had made him sound like an insensitive boor. Of course he liked children; he always had. Why, then, had he made it sound as if it was only duty that made him consider having them?
David studied the lovely face beside him, and offered her a game smile. ‘Well, I think that is all I have to say. Perhaps you would like some time to think it over? A few more days before I call again for your answer? Unless…you are sure of your answer now.’
Nicola lifted her head to look at him, and marvelled at how fickle the human heart could be. She had just received a proposal of marriage from one of the most eligible gentlemen in London—one whom most would have accepted before his final words were out—and now he was offering her time to consider an answer which, until a few short moments ago, would have been the same in a week’s time as it would have been today.
Until a few short moments ago…
‘No, I do not need more time, Lord Blackwood,’ Nicola replied. ‘What more could a lady ask than to be given the assurance that she will be well taken care of, and blessed with a family to love and to care for? Yes, I will marry you.’
David stared at her. ‘You will?’
‘Yes. And I thank you for asking.’
It was not until that moment that David realized how much he had been hoping that Nicola would agree to his proposal. So much so that, when he smiled, Nicola caught her breath at the change it wrought in his appearance. It made him appear younger, and so much more…approachable. She was hardly to know that it was a smile which only a few close friends and family members were ever privileged enough to see.
‘I think it is I who should be thanking you… Nicola,’ David whispered. He leaned forward to brush a kiss against her cheek, and noticed, for the first time, how very sweet was the fragrance that surrounded her. ‘You have made me a very happy man. And now shall we call your father back in and give him the news?’
‘Wait…before you do, there is…something I should like to ask you.’
‘You may ask of me anything you wish, my dear.’
The endearment caused the strangest flutter in the pit of Nicola’s stomach, but she forced herself to concentrate on what she had to say. ‘My lord, I was wondering…how do you feel about…animals?’
Chapter Two
Animals? David glanced at Nicola sharply as a memory of her father’s earlier words about the mighty buck suddenly sprang to mind. ‘I take it you are referring to…pets.’
Nicola paused for a moment. Was she? In truth, Alistair was as endearing as the two black puppies, so she was not telling him a complete falsehood. And Guinevere was extremely well behaved…for a falcon.
She smiled with what she hoped was conviction. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘Then rest assured I have no objection to your keeping pets,’ David said as the vision of the mighty buck was replaced by that of a small, fluffy lap-dog. ‘In fact, I have several dogs of my own.’
Nicola’s smile faded. ‘Foxhounds?’
‘Sheepdogs, actually. Big, lumbering brutes, but as gentle as kittens. Have you a dog of your own, perhaps, that you would like to bring to Ridley Hall?’
‘I recently acquired two puppies,’ Nicola told him, avoiding, for a moment, any reference to the other members of the menagerie, ‘which I believe to be about six weeks old.’
‘And you would prefer not to leave them here.’
‘I confess, I have grown rather attached to them.’
‘Then by all means bring them along. They will make admirable company for my own. What breed are they?’
‘Spaniels.’
David began to smile. ‘Didn’t get them from old Lord Hartley by chance, did you?’
Nicola shook her head sadly. ‘I found them down by the river. I was…too late to save the rest of the litter.’
‘Too late to—’ Abruptly, David broke off as he realized what she was saying. ‘Oh, I see. Not purebred, then.’
Nicola raised wide green eyes to his face. ‘No, they are not, but surely that is no reason for doing away with them in such a cruel and heartless manner.’
‘It would be to a man like Hartley.’
Nicola flinched at Blackwood’s offhand reply. ‘Would it be reason enough for you, my lord?’
David hesitated, sensing the need to tread carefully with his new fiancée on what was obviously a very delicate subject. ‘I have never been one for the indiscriminate taking of life, Nicola, but I can understand the rationale behind a man taking certain precautions to ensure the purity of the line.’
‘Then I suggest he should have taken more care in the breeding of the dog in the first place,’ Nicola said heatedly, well aware that animal husbandry was an inappropriate subject for a gently reared lady to be discussing.
It seemed that Lord Blackwood was in complete agreement. ‘Well, I think that is enough said about the subject. You are welcome to bring the dogs along, Nicola, whatever their…parentage. Now, shall we call your father in and give him the good news?’
There was a slight reserve to his tone and, realizing that it would serve no useful purpose to protest further, Nicola graciously acquiesced. She did not wish to anger David over someone else’s shortcomings, nor did she see that there was anything to be gained by doing so. It was enough that he was agreeable to her bringing her puppies along. And so, with a smile upon her face, Nicola rose with David to greet her father and to share their happy news with him.
It was not until some time later, as Nicola watched her fiancé disappear down the drive in his gleaming black and gold carriage, that she had time to think back over the events of the past hour and to marvel at how significantly her life had changed. She was now the fiancée of the Marquis of Blackwood. Quite an achievement in a society where matches were made solely for the betterment of financial or social standing.
But what kind of life had she committed herself to? Nicola wondered silently. She was not in love with David, nor he with her. But her father approved of the match, and she respected Lord Blackwood for the man she knew him to be. Was that not reason enough to accept his offer?
Not really, Nicola admitted to herself on a sigh. And she wouldn’t have, had it not been for that brief and totally unexpected moment of softening, when David had spoken to her with humility in his voice and just a trace of wistfulness in his eye. Almost as though he regretted that theirs would not be a marriage of two hearts.
That was what had changed her mind about Lord Blackwood, and made her look at him differently. Maybe he did care about the importance of feelings between two people, Nicola decided charitably. Maybe he wasn’t the staid, reserved aristocrat that most people accused him of being. Maybe it was simply that no one had ever taught the very upright Lord Blackwood how to laugh.
The announcement of the engagement of the Marquis of Blackwood to the Lady Nicola Wyndham duly appeared in The Times the following week, and, as Sir Giles had predicted, there arose from the marriageable ladies of the ton—or, rather, from their mamas—a sigh of disappointment that could be heard from one end of London to the other. From one drawing room in the country, however, there was only the sound of delighted laughter as the good news was received and celebrated.
‘Well, my dear, you have certainly achieved the match of the season!’ Glynnis, Lady Dorchester,