Page 10 of Pursued Beyond Treachery
Nate sobered. “How are the Wayland children doing?”
“Michael is still causing havoc with their nurse, but that is to be expected of one so young. Andrew, on the other hand…”
“Yes?” Nate said when he took too long to continue.
“He has never recovered from Mrs. Wayland’s death. I do not believe we will ever see the carefree boy that once played in the fields roundabout Wayland Lodge again.”
Nate shook his head. “Such a shame.”
“It is. Fortunately Terrance is doing well under his father’s tutelage and may be able to help take on some of the estate management.” He did not add so Mr. Wayland might have only one estate to keep in line, not having ever shared how much the older man had cared for the Newhurst properties.
“And Miss Amanda?”
“She does not cry as much as she used to, but she is distraught about her sister leaving for so long.”
Nate hung his head. “I feared that would be the case, but you must see how much of a help this will be for Miss Wayland. She has taken on the burden of a large family since long before her mother’s death. That is a heavy load for a woman not yet twenty years old.”
“I-I do understand, and I am not o-opposed, but that does not mean it will not be a stress on the entire family. Mr. Wayland has already begun looking for more help to compensate.”
“As he should have months ago.”
Johnathan stiffened. “He has done the best he could under the circumstances. How would you feel if you had lost Melior?”
His friend’s shoulders slumped. “Terrible.”
“Now imagine spending two decades growing close to one another, expecting to spend many more, only for them to be stolen from you.”
“I get your point, John; you do not need to belabor me with it.”
“Then you will understand if he has not been up to obtaining new staff.”
“But the housekeeper—”
“Has had enough on her hands what with Mrs. Wayland’s lady’s maid retiring and no governess to speak of for Miss Amanda.”
Nate must have sensed how much the topic upset him, for he suddenly stood and pulled a book from the shelf. “I forgot to return your book on the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct. Fascinating invention, that.”
Johnathan took the book, running a hand over the leather-bound cover. It was not the reason he had come. He had a very important question to ask, but when he tried to form the words in his mouth they faltered.
“Is it—” He stopped, wondering if Nate was the right person to ask. He had, after all, been required to intervene in Nate’s own marriage at its very beginning. If he, a veritable novice at interacting with women, had seen what his friend could not, would Nate have the answers he sought?
Then again, seven months had elapsed since he’d tricked Melior and Nate into posing together for a painting at the beginning of their rocky, scandal-riddled marriage. Perhaps his friend had learned a few things since then.
“Nate, what do women like?” he blurted out before he lost his nerve.
“Are you speaking in general or is there a particular female that you wish to impress?”
Heat crept up Johnathan’s neck at the insinuation. “In g-general,” he choked out. Speaking of his particular interest had never been easy, not even to friends. Nate had shared openly of his attraction to Melior when they were at Harrow, but Johnathan had never found the same amount of comfort in any of his childhood friends.
Feelings crowded his thoughts and jumbled them so much his tongue stopped obeying his will. Stuttering was embarrassing enough, but to do so through a confession of love would be humiliating.
Nate tapped his chin. “Pretty compliments seem to work well, but considering your difficulties…”
Johnathan rubbed the back of his neck. It was no secret among his closest friends that he struggled with his impediment far more when conversing with women. In his early days at Harrow, Nate, Al, and Eddie had been his only defenders, speaking for him and coaching him through simple conversations. But now they were grown men; he could not hide behind their words forever. He needed to take action, but how?
The fire crackled in the hearth and the clock ticked on the mantel. Suddenly Nate snapped his fingers.
“I have got it. Flowers. A lady always likes a bouquet of her favorite flowers. What does she like?”
