Page 48 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Wetting his lips, he forced himself to ask, “And what are people saying about me? Should I be concerned?”
The three men exchanged glances, and finally shook their heads in unison.
Ashwood scoffed. “You’re being hailed a hero.”
“Charlotte has said no less than a half dozen ladies have inquired into becoming a patroness of the Little Windmill,” Firthwell shared.
Niall cleared his throat, and allowed himself a moment to take a sip of water. A second to recover from his embarrassment. “I’m certainly no hero. If anyone deserves praise for keeping the disease from spreading and nursing the afflicted children back to health, it’s my wife. I had not even informed her of what was happening, and she strolled through the door like an archangel, ready to do battle with death.”
The corner of Ashwood’s mouth curved up ever so slightly, softening the edges of his normally reserved mien. “It’s not like you, Niall, to wax poetically.”
No, he supposed not. But then he had a reason for his lyrical thoughts.
Not that he told his friends such.
“Although Lady Inverray encouraged Mrs. Simpson to tell the patronesses that you were responsible for stopping the spread of the disease, our wives knew the truth,” Darington shared.
“So itwasAlicia who spread the rumor about—”
“Perhaps,” Ashwood said, “but if your lady wife wishes the credit to be attributed to you, we’ll heed her wishes.”
Niall was at a loss for what to say. What to think. What to feel. His opponent had suffered a setback to his campaign, and now Niall’s bid had been given new life thanks to Alicia’s quick thinking and a surprisingly positive new treatise. Even more, her clever rumor also ensured he had the time needed to fully recuperate.
And perhaps it also granted him the opportunity to start anew with his marchioness. He’d allowed injured pride and resentment to interfere with what could be a happy marriage, but an apology…or two, could change the course of this ship.
The door opened at that moment, revealing the woman at the center of his thoughts. Alicia smiled warmly at his guests, offering each gentleman a greeting, before her gaze landed on him. Niall was perturbed to find her expression as unreadable as it used to be before they married.
But then he hadn’t given her reasons to be open with him.
“Gentlemen, Niall and I were going to sit down for luncheon. Would you care to join us?”
“Only if there are hazelnut tarts. The cook here at Campbell House makes Juliana’s favorite dessert, and I will delight in telling her I enjoyed one or two when I see her this evening,” Ashwood said.
“You would tease my sister so?” Niall asked, shaking his head slowly.
“Of course not. I would save her at least one.” Ashwood laughed when Niall glared at him. “But unfortunately for my sweet tooth, I have another meeting I must attend.”
Darington and Firthwell also made their excuses.
A few minutes later, Niall was walking with his wife on his arm to the dining room. But when they neared the entry to the room, Alicia pulled him in the opposite direction.
“I asked to take our meal on the terrace.” She patted his arm. “I thought the fresh air and sunshine would do you some good.”
Niall agreed, although he did not voice as much. In truth, he was certain that if she wished to dine in the mews, he would consent readily.
Stepping through the double doors that led onto the terrace overlooking the gardens, Niall paused. The servants had laid a table with linens and a spread of cold meats, cheeses, and cobs. A pitcher with lemonade promised refreshment, and his mouth went dry as he watched drops of condensation slide down the glass.
They ate in silence for a time, and Niall allowed the food and peaceful atmosphere to reinvigorate his bones.
At this time of the afternoon, the garden was bathed in golden sunlight, a symphony of birds and bees lending their melodies to the music of the bubbling fountain, and lulling Niall into a relaxation he had not felt in…longer than he could remember.
A gentle breeze ruffled the curls that had slipped from Alicia’s coiffure, brushing against her cheeks as she raised her chin to inhale deeply of floral scents wafting about them. He studied her, still flabbergasted that a woman he treated with such indifference had given him so much.
“They told you, didn’t they?” she murmured, her gaze averted.
“Told me what?” he hedged, curious to learn what she would share.
“That Medlinger and Grey have had a falling-out.”
