Tired of Peter wriggling in her arms, she wandered back out into the sunlight and put him down.
A woman strode into view from around the corner. Tall, and a little too thin, she was dressed in a severe habit of rifle-green cloth. She walked over to Nellie and offered her hand. “You must be Lady Cornelia. Lady Dickenson, Charles’s Aunt Frances.”
Nellie shook it. “How do you do?”
Lady Dickenson raised her eyebrows at Peter. The dog backed away behind Nellie, twisting the lead around her leg. “Charles told me you were pretty. Has he deserted you already?”
Nellie looked up from untangling Peter’s lead, and smiled, very pleased Charles had described her thus. “He is inside speaking to a groom.”
Lady Dickenson’s observed Nellie closely. “Staying only a few days, Charles tells me. Pity. You’ll miss the foxhunt at the Brathwaite’s. Never mind. There will be more soon enough.”
“I don’t hunt,” Nellie said, determined to make it clear from the outset.
Her ladyship stared at her. “You don’t ride?”
“Yes, but I prefer not to hunt.”
She raised her dark eyebrows. “But you must. Especially when Charles is the host, and the meet come to ride to hounds over your lands,” she said brusquely. “The Duchess of Shewsbury not joining the hunt? Charles’s mother only stopped riding last year. By the way, have you met Her Grace?”
“No, not yet.” Nellie eased her tight shoulders.
Lady Dickenson shrugged. “No doubt, my sister is caught up in some cause or other.”
Having no opinion to offer, Nellie was relieved to see Charles emerge from the stables. He frowned at her strained face and strode over to them. “I see you two have met.”
“Nellie has informed me she won’t take part in a foxhunt,” his aunt said, her mouth forming a disapproving shape. “We shall have to convince her, eh, Charles? We can’t have the duchess failing to attend.”
“You should hurry if you plan to ride, Aunt,” Charles said smoothly. He glanced at the sky and the threatening clouds rolling toward them. The breeze blew eddies of last year’s fallen leaves over the cobbles. “You might manage an hour before the storm is upon us.”
“A bit of rain doesn’t bother me.” She nodded at Nellie. “We shall talk again at dinner.”
“My aunt can be a little forceful, but she has a good heart,” Charles said when Frances disappeared into the stables. Nellie struggled to believe him, but she should not rush to judgment on first acquaintance. “Aunt Frances’s home is in Kent, but she visits for the foxhunting.”
“She seems determined to change my mind.”
“This is Quorn country, Nellie,” he said. “You will meet many enthusiasts of the sport.”
As he was. Would he support her decision? She had no idea as to which position he would take. “I imagine I shall.” She bit her lip.
“But that doesn’t mean I want you to take part in it,” he said, turning to her. “If you don’t wish to hunt, then you will not.”
Nellie turned to stare at him. “Oh! That is good of you, Charles.”
“I don’t want you to do anything just because it’s expected, Nellie,” he said. “I want you to be happy here.”
They strolled back toward the house with Peter trotting beside them. “As you and your parents must return to London in a day or so, I want to show you over the estate tomorrow. We’ll ride out in the morning. Take a picnic basket.”
Still reeling from his surprising statement, she smiled up at him. “I do love eating alfresco. Shall Jason and Beverly join us?”
“No.”
Nearby, a rabbit darted from the bushes, crossed the drive, and scampered out of sight. Peter, barking madly, pulled at the lead, catching Nellie by surprise. Charles’s arm caught her as she stumbled. He took the lead from her. “Your dog thinks he’s a wolf.” He picked the wriggling dog up and tucked him under one arm.
Her mind was still busy dealing with the knowledge that they would spend time alone tomorrow. “He isn’t aware he’s so small.”
Peter quieted. Perhaps, like Thor, he knew he’d met his match. Charles held out his free arm to Nellie. She put her hand on it, and they continued down the path.
“Unfortunately, I will have to spend the rest of the afternoon with my steward and bailiff,” he said. “A tenant farmer has a boundary issue.”
“What does that entail?”
“A difference of opinion with a neighbor about water rights,” he explained. “But I won’t bore you with the details.”
“I would not be bored,” Nellie said. She resented the implication. Some men didn’t believe women capable of solving problems. She’d hoped he wasn’t one of them.
“No?” Charles turned to face her. “Then another time, perhaps.”
At the front door, Charles addressed the footman. “Where is the duchess, Henry?”
Henry cleared his throat. “Your mother is at the dower house, consulting the architect concerning the alterations, Your Grace.”
Charles sighed. “Where might Lord and Lady Dountry be?”
“They are taking tea in the blue salon, Your Grace.”
He handed Henry the lead. “See that Lady Cornelia’s dog is taken to her bedchamber, and escort my lady to her parents.”
“At once, Your Grace,”
Charles turned to face her. “I look forward to spending time with you tomorrow.” His eyes spoke of some half-promise. “Our neighbors are to dine with us this evening.”
“I shall see you then at dinner,” Nellie said, rattled by the look he’d cast her. Did he have seduction in mind? Some men believed it quite acceptable to anticipate their vows, a cousin had told her.
“Until this evening.” With a slight bow, Charles left her.
She followed the footman up the stairs. She was a little exasperated with herself. One look from Charles could make her heart beat wildly. The prospect of facing his aunt again at dinner had a dampening effect. Nellie expected another attempt to be made to persuade her to embrace foxhunting, but warmed by Charles’s support, she was confident she could handle the woman. Although she must not expect Charles to stand up for her against his relative.
In the salon, her
