Page 23 of Love Denied

*

Nicholas entered thekitchen, feeling like the wayward boy of his youth. It had been years since he’d avoided the main entrance, hoping to evade confrontation with his father. Of course, it was not solely his father he wished to avoid this night, although both his sire and Catherine must have long gone to bed. He shook the rain from his overcoat before shrugging it off his shoulders.

“Let me, child.” Nan’s face appeared out of the shadows.

“I thought you too young for senility.”

She slapped him lightly on the arm as she drew off his coat. “I am not the one who has lost their mind.” She clucked, grabbed his gloves, and set them side by side on a small stool before standing on tiptoe and hanging the coat on a peg. “I’ve not been out in this weather till the wee hours of the morning.”

Reaching over her head, he hung his hat on the remaining free dowel. He rolled his shoulders and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s not yet midnight, Nan. The night is young.” He wished he meant it. In truth, he was weary to the bone.

Nan merely muttered something incomprehensible and moved to the large fireplace. She poked at the logs, and the flames jumped to life. A few more jabs, and she nodded her satisfaction, then turned to him, hands on hips.

“You may be lord of the manor now, lad, but don’t expect no special treatment from me. Sit down and warm your hide.” She gestured to a wooden-back chair by the fire.

Under his breath, Nicholas chuckled mirthlessly at her insolence. Nan had never minced her words. His mother had refused to hire a governess yet had seldom found the time herself to be with him and Daniel. So as young boys, they’d spent much of their time around Nan’s skirt. Even in their adolescent years, they’d hung out in the kitchens when home. The old cook had always ensured there was food ready to fill their endlessly hungry, growing bodies. She’d also accepted the both of them, no matter what their state, unconditionally and with no questions asked.

He obediently sat, grateful for the warmth and the gruff caring. He rubbed his hands together, the tingling burn familiar from his days on campaign. Lord of the manor. He almost laughed. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Should a lord not feel some power? Some control?

“I am guessing you’ve not had a bit of food since this morn.” She shoved a plate into his hand. He stared at the cold meat and cheese. A large slab of bread sat on the edge. His stomach growled in appreciation.

He took a bite of the bread while Nan sat down on the chair opposite him, picked up a skein of wool, and began knitting. She said not a word, the needles clicking softly as he wolfed down the food. When he was done, he set the plate on the floor and reached up his arms in a stretch. Lord, but his body ached. It was time to head upstairs to bed. He began to rise.

“I love that lass too.” Nan’s voice was low, quiet, the needles clacking loudly in comparison.

He lowered back onto the chair, the chains of guilt holding him captive.

“I remember the little sprite lighting up our halls. A wee angel running alongside you three devils.” Nan stared at the fire, chuckling in remembrance. Then, setting her knitting on her lap, she stared at him, her eyes narrowing, her forehead wrinkling. “Tonight she wandered this house like it was a mausoleum. And it might just as well have been.”

He did not like the image, but he would not tell Nan that. Instead, he held her gaze, refusing the shame she was serving up along with the meal. She shook her head and picked up the needles, pulling at the skein to release some yarn.

“Catherine looked beautiful this evening. She has always been a lovely girl, but she made a special effort.” Nan yanked fiercely at the wool, then heaving a sigh, rested the wool on her lap again, her angry gaze softening to sad. “The lass sat alone in the drawing room before dinner. She sat alone in that great dining roomfordinner. Heavens knows she ate like a bird. Your father didn’t leave his rooms at all, now did he? Although, perhaps that was a mercy for the poor child.”

He rose.

Nan reached out and grabbed his hand. “There has been too much loss in this family. So much to mourn. Catherine has shared all of it with us. She was family long before you fell for her beautiful soul. She has earned more respect than she has received from either of the two lords of this manor.”

Remorse rose like bile. He’d not thought what this day might be like for Catherine, had only thought of his own pain. He patted Nan’s hand, then slipped his from it.

“Thank you for the meal. It’s good to see you again.” He headed toward the hall, pausing at Nan’s voice, her disappointment in him clear in the tone.

“Lad, she has gone to bed lonely on her wedding night. Go to her. Sort out your anger in the light of day. Give her the love she needs, the love she deserves, in the night.”

*

Nicholas walked thelong corridor from the kitchen and paused at Daniel’s study. His study now. His sire kept a suite of rooms beyond the library, rarely venturing to this side of the house, and would not lay claim to this lair. It was definitely Nicholas’s now. He reached for the doorknob, then dropped his hand. He was not yet ready to face it.

He turned left, into the hallway, wider now that he was in the main house, and glanced at the breakfast room. Would he share it in the morning with Catherine? Make idle conversation as though nothing was amiss? No, such ostensible behavior was beyond them both.

After moving further down the hall, he stopped at the dining room. He stared at the long mahogany table, a lengthy shadow in the dark room. Catherine had sat alone eating her wedding dinner. Nan said she’d not eaten much. Was that what he wanted? For her to suffer as he was suffering? He leaned back against the doorway, staring into the darkness. The worst kind of loneliness was the one felt when surrounded by others. He knew it well and did not wish that upon Catherine.

He pushed from the door and entered the atrium. Fredericks stood ready. Did the man ever sleep?

“I have left my things with Nan,” Nicholas said.

Fredericks nodded, but his face expressed his feelings clearly. “You’ll not be wanting a brandy at this hour, I’m sure, my lord. Your wife has gone to bed these many hours past.”

Fredericks’s word choice and emphasis were not lost on Nicholas. While Fredericks kept his tone neutral, his censure was unmistakable. He would not accept such belligerence from others, but Fredericks had been with him since birth, encouraging him to be the best man he could be despite his father’s censure. Like Nan, the old man had known Catherine through the years. He could not fault either’s loyalty to her.

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