Nicola was being subjected to a detailed and lengthy history lesson on Blackwood lineage, flourished with all the nasal acoustics Lady Wilhelmina could procure in her vast verbal accoutrements of drawn-out syllables.

Valiantly, she stifled the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head and beseech the Lord for patience, and instead clenched her fists so that her nails bit into the palms of her hands, even through the gloves she was wearing.

For the eleventh time, she checked the clock that hung above the mantel over the hearth, sure that a lifetime-

TWO minutes?

Only two minutes had passed since she had last dared to check. Wilhelmina's milky, hawkish grey gaze never once left her since she began her self-righteous diatribe on the pomposity of her family's lineage, though the reason why Nicola was being subjected to something as odious as this was beyond her. Although there was a very high probability that she had been informed why the dowager was regaling her with the substantial Blackwood family tree, but it was also very likely that Nicola had not been paying attention.

History, and the subject of it, was not her strongest academic association.

"-and that is how Thomas, the seventh Marquis of Blackwood, came into effect," Lady Wilhelmina intoned flatly and Nicola wondered if she had allowed her attention to wonder during a recount of the late marquis's conception. "Against my better wishes, Jason's father chose to marry his mother," she continued in a haughty tone, never once allowing her gaze to leave Nicola's face, "and then here we are. Jason being the eighth marquis sets certain expectations for the family, expectations that only a suitable wife could provide. I am sure you understand that perhaps there is a modicum of sense between your ears-"

If she let her, Nicola wondered, would the dowager continue to talk herself into her grave? Again, her thoughts drifted off and at the mention of a suitable wife, Nicola idly stroked the ring on her left finger, its weight a consistent reminder of the events of the last day. She had been convinced that she would have been in London at this time, nursing the wounds of a broken and embarrassed heart, but oh how wrong she had been. If she had thought she knew Jason after years of watching him across ballrooms, years pining after catching glimpses of him through the halls in Northwick, then she had been sorely mistaken by his carefully wrought out administrations over the last week.

And he had been the honourable one, trying to do right by her, whereas she had done everything in her power to act the ill-raised harlot, accosting him on several accounts. She would do it again, she realised, and a blush at the thought of how she would proposition him the next time flamed across her skin.

What was the matter with her?

"I say, are you even paying attention, girl?"

Nicola sharpened her gaze, refocusing it until the Dowager Marchioness of Northwick stopped blurring around the edges. Plumes of lace blossomed from the woman's neck like an explosion of feathers on a strutting cockerel. It hardly helped that there appeared to be some sort of stuffed pheasant attached to Jason's grandmother's temple.

"Maybe," Nicola said slowly, then snapped her lips together before something even more inappropriately rude slipped out. "I mean to say, yes, of course."

Wilhelmina's eyes narrowed and an expression that was remarkably condescending came over her wrinkled visage, as if she were suddenly in agreement of the idiocy before her. "Well, then, you should understand why it is entirely inappropriate that my grandson continues to favour the likes of you," she said icily. "It shan't go on any longer, I insist it. You cannot be that simple to entertain his attentions any longer without fully understanding the repercussions I am referring to. I have clout, child, and judging by your inability to snag a husband after three seasons, I am positive you need as much luck as you can get."

Nicola's back stiffened sharply, understanding dawning and raging threw her with the force of a punch in the gut. "Are you propositioning me?" she demanded, eyes wide.

"Propositioning," Wilhelmina spat the word, as if it offended her. "Hardly. I am merely encouraging you to set your cap elsewhere. Should you do so, I am sure you will find more doors open for you socially, at least. In fact, you will find that my generosity will extend-"

"I beg your pardon," Nicola said softly, firmly, her teeth grinding at the thought of Jason's grandmother attempting to bribe her to steer clear of her grandson. How these two people were cut of the same cloth, Nicola could not fathom it, for in comparison to this insufferable twit Jason simply glowed with progress, growth and humility.

"Of course," Wilhelmina sniffed, flipping her gloved hand in a gesture of perceived indifference, "should you not accept my generous offer to help and support you, and you indeed continue to seduce my grandson with your... wiles... then I should assure you that my means will be less forgiving, as will my influence in your circles."

At that moment, Nicola weighed the worth of arguing her piece with the dowager. She was set to marry Jason, there would be no disputing that, as he had made it clear that if the banns were objected, he would endure no small amount of inconvenience to make her his bride- even if that meant hauling her to Scotland. It wasn't in Nicola's nature to endure discontent, especially if she were the cause of it, and even if Wilhelmina condemned them all to hell for it, she would have to at least try to set things amiably between them.

She allowed herself a moment to rub her eyes, dry from staring blandly at the dowager as the rattled on for what felt like hours about the family's history, before she lowered her hands and set them primly atop each other in her lap. Nicola knew that she was dressed flawlessly today in a modest light blue gown. The only part of her that was in disarray may have been her hair, but even that had been tamed into the lace hood of a bonnet to assure less riotous strands from escaping. She knew she was proper and reticent, everything that a lady should be (well, alright, at least when Jason wasn't around) and she levered those qualities to all their worth this afternoon.

To little or no effect.

"I have my own proposition for you, my lady," Nicola began softly, her voice a neutral statement. She had schooled herself for hours prior to this meeting, readying her words that she would utter, how she would approach the matter with this woman, but she had not anticipated Wilhelmina to bribe her into not marrying Jason.

"Oh, indeed," this was said with a snide tilt to the other woman's mouth and Nicola knew she would hardly be entertained for a moment longer. She would be lucky if the dowager even registered what she said next.

But for Jason's sake, for the family that she adored, she had to at least try. "We are engaged to be married," she began, perhaps not smartly.

"What?"

"And though you have made your opinions on the matter very clear, I would not like it if anything untoward were to happen to this family, especially not because of me."

"Well, at least we can both agree on that," Wilhelmina scoffed.

"You see, my lady, my fiancé is not against opposing you should you take offense publicly to our match," Nicola explained calmly, though her hands were trembling in her lap. She clamped them tightly together. "I do not wish that. I would prefer us to remain amicable and your relations with the family the same."

"Clearly you have a high opinion of yourself indeed if-"

"My proposition," Nicola interrupted, levelling her with steady gaze while her heart almost beat right out her chest in fear, "is that in lieu of Jason sending you to live in another part of the country-" Wilhelmina gasped, outraged at the notion, "-you do not oppose our match. In return, I will convince the family to allow you to remain on at Northwick for one week out of each month."

"Ha!"

"Soon, there will no doubt be Northwick heirs," Nicola went on, blushing furiously now, "and I am sure you would rather be apart of your great-grandchildren's life, rather than not."

Nicola may have thought the old woman would have balked at the notion, outright protested her words with liberal barbs of hateful vitriol, but instead she was stiffly quiet, her silver gaze like penetrating daggers as they took in Nicola's words.

Encouraged only slightly, Nicola continued, "I have never had a large family. It has only been myself and my father, and perhaps that has made me value family as a whole unit, rather than something that can be broken over a matter that is, quite frankly, trivial at best. You may not like me, perhaps you may even find me in contempt, but a wedding is going to take place, and I believe I have been more than accommodating at taking into account the betterment of the Blackwood household so as to form the least inconvenience... for all of us."

If Wilhelmina opposed or was offended by Nicola's words, her expression made no inclination of the way her feelings fell on the matter. The woman regarded her with tightly pinched lips, her silver gaze still piercing and shrewd. The quiet stretched on and it became apparent that Wilhelmina was simply bestowing her with the silent treatment, an ominous prospect indeed.

So Nicola sighed and stood up, smoothing her skirts once before straightening her shoulders and dipping into a polite curtsy, a courtesy that was ingrained in her. Wilhelmina may think the worst of her, but she wouldn't let the woman have any evidence to support her opinions. Outwardly, Nicola was sure she projected the mannerisms of a proper lady, etiquette and all. "I do not have anything more to add to this conversation," she told her, "and I will take my leave. Should you come to a reasonable decision, I trust you will have the sense to write and tell me." Nicola made to depart but thought about adding one more thing before she did. "Regardless of what you decide, you will always be welcome in my home, Lady Wilhelmina."

The dowager's eyes followed her to the door of the parlour room, unerringly stoic and cold. Suddenly, just as Nicola reached for the handle, she said, "You are correct. I do not like you."

Those words shouldn't hurt, she knew they had been forthcoming, but they did, and she forced her chin up proudly as she turned back to the dowager who was still seated on her chair near the parlour windows.

"But perhaps," Wilhelmina added, meeting Nicola's chin thrust with one of her own, "I can admire your morals, Miss Eversley, for I believe your intentions are at least noble."

They squared off for an imperceptible moment, amber eyes clashing with the hawk-like pair of steel ones. "May I assume then that you accept my proposal?" Nicola dared to ask.

"You may."

Nicola tilted her chin in acceptance, once, before exiting the chambers, her breath leaving her lungs with an almighty whoosh of relief. Reeling from the confrontation, she braced herself against the wall for a moment, but before she could even think straight Jason was upon her, his large hands framing her face.

"You're alive," he murmured, examining her carefully before kissing the top of her forehead and crushing her to his chest. "I was sure she was trying to flay you alive."

"Goodness, Jason, try to let the poor girl breath," Kathleen admonished as she bustled through, eyeing Nicola briefly. "You look remarkably well, Nicki. Did everything go accordingly?"

She nodded against Jason's coat, a smile wobbling on her lips as she thought about how to broach it to them that she had consigned the family to a sennight with Wilhelmina every month.

"Good," Kathleen nodded, bracing herself to enter the parlour room Nicola had vacated so that she may endure the dowager for the remainder of the time she was visiting. "Where is Blanche and Diana? They were supposed to- oh, blast it all. Jason, won't you find your sisters and bring them down to attend to Lady Wilhelmina before she departs?"

If Jason meant to answer his mother, he had little opportunity for Kathleen had already entered the room where Wilhelmina was awaiting attendance.

Instead, he tipped her chin up with his fingers to meet his concerned gaze, frowning now suspiciously at the smile he witnessed. "And the cause of this is what, dare I ask?"

"I don't think you would like to know," Nicola told him.

"Out with it, Nicola. Did she offend you? Am I to send her to Spain?"

She shook her head, the sight of him so potently handsome and concerned for her dignity almost shattering her heart to pieces.

"Then what?" he urged, his voice a dark purr and caused a vibration under her hands pressed against the solid wall of his chest.

Suddenly, Nicola sensed a dangerous reaction from him once she told him of the agreement she had made and backed away from him, biting her lip slowly. "First, promise you won't do anything... rash."

"You must have me mistaken for my sister," Jason drawled, prowling towards her. "You have exactly to the count of three to tell me what happened in that room, Nicola."

"How about ten? That seems more fair."

"One-"

"So, we had a nice tea," Nicola nattered, holding up her hands placatingly and stifling a giggle.

Jason lifted his brows meaningfully, taking another long step towards her. "Two."

"And she was very kind to tell me, at length, the details pertaining to the history of your prolific lineage."

The backs of her legs bumped against the table in the centre of the entranceway, the vase of flowers teetering in protest to the disruption. Jason closed the distance separating them, trapping her by pressing his hands flat down on either side of her hips. "Three," he murmured, his lips tilting upwards in a predatory smile that made her stomach flip.

"The good news," Nicola told him quickly, breathlessly, "is that she will not publicly oppose our match."

"Mmm." He bent down, his face an inch away from hers. "And the bad news, Nicki dear?"

"We get to enjoy her company for a week out of every month, here at Northwick."

His expression changed to one of such comical disbelief Nicola had to press a hand to her mouth to stop from outright laughing at it. Then an explosion of profanities so foul was let off by the Marquis of Northwick it provoked the curiosity of his sisters to inspect the source directly, and when they did, unfortunately for them, they were ushered into the parlour room to meet with their foreboding grandmother.

"Is this to be my life, then?" he asked of her when his siblings had disappeared, his eyes dancing with a mixture of humour and pain. "My prim and proper wife dictating the ways of this household because her moral compass points a little too straight at times?"

"You're not mad, are you?"

He glanced at her sharply. "With you, never." His eyes lit up and he glanced around, suddenly realising they had been awarded a rare opportunity of being alone. "Annoyed, vexed, confused." Jason took her hand and began to lead her upstairs.

"Confused?" Nicola repeated. "Shocking, to say the least, that an astute man such as yourself could feel confused."

"Confused," Jason explained, pulling her down the hall, "that you are too good to be true to firstly entertain the notion of that woman ever coming to her senses, and secondly exhibiting generosity that far surpasses anything I have ever seen, especially in the face of blatant hostility." While he was talking, he had pushed her inside her room and closed the door, latching it emphatically. "Whatever am I to do with you?" he murmured, snatching her into his arms.

"I suppose," Nicola said, arching into him suggestively, "anything you like, really."