"I still don't understand how you came to be outside my brother's chambers," Blanche was saying the next day as they waited in the hall for Jason to make his appearance and accompany them to the village, courtesy of Nicola's poor attempt at a lie.

"I got lost," she said flatly. "And I had to say something believable."

Blanche rolled her eyes. Like Nicola, a pretty white frock covered her form, adorned with little pink flowers while Nicki's were blue. A light shawl covered their shoulders and they both were holding a parasol. "Jason would never believe I would want him to accompany me anywhere," she said tartly.

"True, yet here I am," the man in question drawled, appearing at the top of the stairs and promptly making his descent. Suave, his face decorated with a sinful smile, Jason cut a devastating figure as he advanced with predatory grace.

Nicola cursed the burn of her cheeks and studiously concentrated on the lacey edge of her gloved hands.

"You took your sweet time," Blanche griped, crossing her arms petulantly.

"I am five minutes late."

"Exactly."

Joining them, Jason considered his sister warily. "Did you miss a meal? A snack?" he asked with an edge.

"No, why?"

"I do not wish to be subjected to your presence for an extended period of time if you have not been fed in, say, thirty minutes at least."

"Oh, you are a scoundrel, Jason Blackwood," Blanche hissed, her voice teasingly scathing and flounced for the door, throwing it wide.

"And you can be a cantankerous beast if you haven't eaten recently," Jason returned unrepentantly, grinning broadly, before turning to Nicola, who has blushing furiously and feeling awkward and so very uncomfortable in his presence. Utterly tormented. "Nicki, you are looking well. Shall we?" He gestured to the door with a quirk of his brow and she scrutinised that movement as if it were likely to fly off his face and launch itself for her throat, mauling her jugular.

But if Jason was acting any different, if he had stumbled across some profound pieces of knowledge that he shouldn't have, Nicola couldn't determine. For his wry tone, that humorous drawl and quirk of his brow- that was all simply Jason being Jason. Deciding that for now, at least, she may actually be safe until she determined otherwise, she nodded once and followed Blanche out the door, Jason in her wake.

The village was only a short walk along the gravel road from Northwick Manor, a journey Blanche and Nicki had completed many a time alone. The drive leading out of Northwick estate was flanked by pines, dappling the ground with welcome shade as they walked during the middle of a blazingly sunny day, nary a cloud in sight.

Blanche had taken the lead and was flouncing ahead when Jason came into step beside Nicola. His presence, as usual, never failed to unnerve her. Dressed in a fine blue coat and fawn trousers, his strides were long and sure as he walked amiably beside her, arms behind his back. Nicola was always astounded by the fluid ease in which he was able to adopt an air of casual nonchalance. There was almost a boyish quality to it, the way his hair hung unfashionably long over his forehead, the endless good-humour that lightened his deep-set eyes.

"You are aware you were under no obligation to attend us," Nicola told him.

"I wanted to." A smile was directed at her and she felt her skin grow warm by it. "I am being honest, Nicki. No need to look at me as if I am daft."

She schooled her features into some semblance of neutrality. Somehow, she would need to at least attempt to behave normally in front of him, for if he had read those letters and somehow not concluded she to be the author, then she shouldn't draw attention to herself and derive probable cause that it could be her. "Well," she started, rather stupidly, "it is a pleasant enough day."

Nicola dragged her eyes away from that smile and focused on Blanche up ahead. She had slowed and was allowing for them to join her. "And I suppose," she added when his silence continued to stretch on indefinitely, "it is good for the Lord of Northwick to inspect his grounds and visit his people every so often."

"Indeed." The husky tenor of his voice licked up her spine. "What do you think I should be looking out for, if anything?"

"Are you asking me seriously, my lord?"

"Are you ever going to call me Jason, Nicki?"

"It is improper," she told him, coming to step beside Blanch who was now curiously listening to their conversation. "We should address each other as propriety dictates unless we are friends."

"Are we not friends, then?" he demanded, playfully hurt, placing his hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

"Your friends are louts," Blanche said archly.

"A friend is someone who you hold in high esteem," Nicola explained over her female companion's interjection, "someone you confide all your secrets to, someone you take advice from and provide guidance to. A friend knows you almost as well as you know yourself, perhaps even better. Blanche and I, are friends, my lord."

Blanche stuck her tongue out at her brother and linked her arm through Nicola's with an emphasis that wouldn't go unnoticed. "The very best," she agreed with a smile now.

"I would very much like to be considered your friend," Jason said, looking pointedly at Nicola.

"Don't believe him, he will steal all your matching stockings and leave you with only one leg, then sit back and laugh while you search the household up and down because you don't have any complete sets of stockings for Lady Weatherley's soiree," Blanche's tone was exceedingly sarcastic.

"That was one time," Jason chuckled. "I didn't do it again, did I?"

"No, the devil never appears twice in one day," Blanche scoffed.

"Regardless," Nicola interrupted, "if you would like to be considered a friend, Lord Blackwood, then you should divulge something private about yourself, or confide something that not many people would know, and then perhaps I- or we- could serve as your counsel and grow together from it."

His smile was crooked, a deep indent appearing against his tan skin of his cheek, and those grey eyes sparked with amusement as he considered her. "This is your entry requirement, then?" he clarified, a wind parting a lock of his hair and settling across one side of his brow. "A confession for a friendship? And then you shall refer to me by my given first name?"

"Well, not exactly, but it's a start." She grinned up at him. "We shall use it as a basis to work from. We need to establish first if we are compatible as friends."

She thought, for an imperceptible second, something dark and heated flared over his countenance, but it was gone before she could confirm it. Instead, Jason shrugged a shoulder upwards in another gesture of nonchalance and focused his gaze on the road that was now winding through a grassy meadow. "Very well," he mused slowly, "the both of you won't know this much about me, so I suppose you'll have to take it as a part of friendship pact, too, Bee." He paused and glanced at his sister, who merely tilted her head to the side and regarded him with wide-eyed curiosity, intrigued by the turn of the conversation. "So here it is, my confession to you both. I do not think I am, or ever going to be, a very good marquis."

"Well, obviously."

Nicola gave Blanche's arm a pinch. "That is rude, Blanche." She turned back to Jason and felt her cheek crease as she pursed her lips in thought. "Perhaps that is not entirely true, and you are simply having doubts about yourself, my lord."

Jason laughed. "Blanche is right," he said amicably, "I do not have knack for this. Thomas was... so good at it, at managing his family, at making decisions, acting his part when the time came for it. If it wasn't for my valet, I wouldn't be able to decide what to wear each day. And I worry that I could never do right or take care of you all well enough." A breath left him, a reflectively plaintive sound. "Thomas shouldn't have died. He should still be with us and taking care of the lot of us. Mother knows it, but she wouldn't dare say as much. She knows I am making a mess of things."

Nicola shared a glance with Blanche and she knew the other woman was mirroring her feelings. Jason was indeed exposing a truth that he had been safely guarding behind an air of wry humour and confidence. She supposed the burden of becoming a lord so soon in his life was something he had not expected. Even three years to adjust to his new role could be construed as not enough time, given how close the Blackwood's had been as a tight-knit family. But, as far as she could tell- and Nicola was at the manor often enough to witness events and management at play- Jason was doing a fine job of it all.

"In my professional opinion," Nicola said earnestly, "and from mere observation alone, I believe that you are making a fine marquis. So far."

Blanche gave her sibling a rare, sincere smile. "Nicki is right," she agreed. "Well, other than being annoying and taking up too much space, you are holding our family together, brother."

The roguish wink was directed at Nicola then. "Have I earned first name basis now?"

"We'll see," she replied, but a smile was pulling at her lips as they rounded a bend and the small village came into view.

They strolled amiably through the quiet streets, occasionally greeted by people as they continued on their way to some errand. Throughout his dealings with the villagers, his tenants, Jason was warm and friendly, openly curious about the day to day minutiae of their lives, considering voiced grievances and appeals for improvements if there were any, but sensing this was a leisure outing it was mostly treated as such.

The bakery was a small double-story face brick structure with a square window that displayed the fresh confectionaries that Blanche began to salivate for at the sight of them. Delicious smells wafted through the open door from down the street and the youngest Blackwood almost tripped over her own feet, hastening towards the source as if physically yanked by an invisible lead.

Jason and Nicola lingered outside, waiting patiently on the side of the road, while she raided the baker's stocks and cried out in pure delight. "Nicola! You must try the custard tarts! They are to die for, oh!"

They shared a smile at Blanche's antics, and Nicola eyed the pasture the bakery was adjacent to. Across the road, the field was wide and covered in fine, long grass. A few sheep were grazing peacefully in the sun, surrounded by low hedges that ran around the perimeter.

"As I have provided you with a confession," Jason said, breaking her revery and drawing her gaze, "it is only fair that you provide me one." His gaze, Nicola noted, was steady and warm, and she wondered briefly at the possibility that perhaps he was fishing, angling for a confession about her presence outside his room, or the ownership of the box of letters currently in his possession. When she didn't respond, he pressed, "Tell me something I don't know about you."

"There's probably a lot you don't know about me, my lord."

"Then you have a lot to choose from."

She gave him a sideways grin and walked slowly across the road to stand on the edge of the pasture, the shawl that sat on her shoulders slipping down and hooking in the crook of her elbows. He joined her wordlessly, waiting and expectant.

"I like to run," she said simply, thinking of the simplest thing about her that nobody except Blanche knew.

"Run?" Jason repeated, a confused frown lining his brow.

"Correct." She fidgeted with the edges of her shawl. "I know it's not customary for a lady to show any interest in physical exercise really, aside from horse riding- which I am not very good at, by the way so now you have two confessions- but I do. I love... just running, really, and I am quite fast."

"Really. And if I were to ask you to prove it?"

"I could, and I would beat you."

"Ha!" Suddenly, he was removing his coat and shucking out of it completely, depositing it on the hedgerow they were standing by. "Go on, then, Miss Eversley. Let's have ourselves a little race."

"I beg your pardon?" If the tantalising sight of him disrobing didn't give her an apoplexy, then his words certainly would. It was not... normal... for ladies to exhibit interest in exercise amidst a wide belief that it wasn't beneficial to her health, something Nicola found extraordinarily odd. She had come across several papers in her father's study, once, of men and several doctors, who had speculated otherwise, but this opinion was largely unpopular. It appeared, much to her astonishment, that Jason favoured the latter observations and the revelation was... warming.

"You claim you could beat me, then prove it." He raised a brow in challenge and Nicola felt herself coming alive with the challenge. "To the other end of the pasture."

She considered it, she honestly did. The grass was long and would hinder their progress, but where he was strong, she was agile and years of running through the Northwick woodlands had prepared her for obstacles in any flora variation. Nicola bit her lip, knowing that she wanted to, and then she came to a decision. What harm could it do? Blanche was inside and their companion, the village was quiet. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time she had been found sprinting through a field by a servant, footman, groundskeeper and whoever else had taken a turn about her familiar routes that day.

It was only a race. When was the last time she had raced somebody? She couldn't recall, the activity largely left behind in her childhood. Now, whenever she could afford to, she merely ran alone.

Decision made, she dropped her shawl and parasol beside his coat. Jason had also removed his waistcoat and cravat, and the sight of him in his starched cotton shirt almost took her breath away.

"Alright," Nicola began as they moved through the small opening in the hedge, "we should have a countdo-"

"Onyourmarksgetsetgo!" Jason blasted off without even looking back at her.

Bastard! She bolted into action immediately after him, but his headway was substantial since he had caught her by surprise. Even though her shoes were sturdy little boots designed for walking, Nicola encountered another problem entirely- her skirts that were pulling tight at her ankles, ensuring she couldn't get a proper bound in. At this rate, the conniving man was sure to beat her.

Grunting, without breaking stride, she yanked the material up and fisted it high on her thighs. Free now, her legs were able to move as they should and she soared forward.

The grass whipped at her legs and hands as she moved, darting the larger tufts and the occasional bleating sheep, surprised by the sight of two finely clad individuals careening through their pasture. Her legs were pumping fiercely and soon she had gained the ground she had lost because of his deceptive ways. Her bonnet fell loose of its confines and skittered behind her, lost in the grass, and her hair was coming undone, streaming like wild coppery ribbons in her wake as they caught the wind and sunshine.

Hearing her approach, Jason glanced over his shoulder and the look of surprise on his face would be one she would take to her grave. She didn't, however, allow the sight of his powerful body moving with the fierce pace of a predatory cat to distract her, not even the sight of his buttocks, so firmly amplified by the most delicious fit of his trousers that she was sorely pressed to write to his tailor and thank him personally after this, could dispel her concentration, lest she lose footing and trip, costing her precious time.

However, Jason had slipped up when he had looked back at her, unconsciously slowing his gait, and allowing her to take over.

"Cheat!" she panted as she passed him, his astounded laugh meeting her ears. Her lungs were burning, her heart a wild, frantic thing in her chest, and her legs were beginning to protest, but she did not pass up the opportunity to turn her head and stick her tongue out at him, clearly in the lead now, and that was her mistake.

It was probably a rabbit's warren that caught the tip of her toes as they landed awkwardly, expecting to meet compact ground instead of air, and she stumbled forward, the rest of her foot jarring against the other edge and sending her sprawling in the grass. A cloud of dirt and grassy debris plumed into the air, a result of her unceremoniously crash against the earth.

Jason's momentum didn't serve him much better and he was propelled into her, his legs tangling with her own before he managed to twist to the side and narrowly avoid sprawling over her entirely. A grunt left him, as well as all the air in his lungs, and he groaned, curling inwards on a flinch before tossing himself onto his back, gasping and panting.

"Are you alright?" he managed to rasp, giving her a concerned look quickly to confirm for himself.

Other that a sore hip from where she landed and out of breath, Nicola was fine. She flopped on her back beside him, laughing. The sky was achingly blue above them, the edges of the long grass framing them where they lay. She smelt the earth, felt the sweat sheen her skin, and it felt amazing.

"I'll take that as a yes," Jason said, amused.

"You're a disgraceful cheat," Nicola accused, turning her eyes away from the sky and pinning him with a playful glare. His dark hair hung haphazardly over his brows and temples, his face darkly flushed, and there was a molten flame in his eyes as he regarded her that made her stomach flip.

"I wasn't about to take any chances with such a boast from you." His chest was still heaving with his pants, his breathing a bit ragged. "God, you are fast. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this wild-haired angel almost upon me.... And even hindered by your skirts." He glanced down pointedly at the fabric that was still bunched riotously around her legs. She thought that perhaps she should feel compelling to compose the dishevelled state of her dress, but right now it felt too good, too perfect, lying in this field on her back with Jason Blackwood beside her, as sheep bleated in the distance and the grass whispered secrets above them, moved by a soft breeze.

"I told you I was fast," she chuckled. His eyes shifted, studying her face, and she felt his gaze as if it were a caress, her body stilling and becoming alert to the subtle change in him. He eyed the line of her nose and the blush on her cheeks, then the focus he lavished on her lips made her breath hitch altogether.