CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nicholas could see the surprise on Clarissa’s face as she took his arm. He had never been happier to get away from Lady Wilde. The woman was insatiable.

As they walked away, Lady Wilde muttered something incoherent, and Nicholas was aware she would not think kindly of him choosing Miss Crompton over her. As they walked towards the puppet show, Nicholas was aware of many curious glances alighting on them.

After looking at some of the faces, he realized that his reputation preceded him. Even here in a village of this size, his behaviour was known. It was a humiliating realization, and for the second time in as many days, he felt real shame for the lifestyle he had previously led.

He wondered if Miss Crompton was aware of the looks being sent their way and if she felt uncomfortable being on his arm. His words to Henry loomed in his mind once again. If there were any way to make her see him in a different light, he would do it.

The puppet show was in a medium-sized red and white striped tent. Several people were gathering ahead the start. The children he had joked with earlier were at the front as they waited for the performers.

It was a traditional production of Punch he thought as he watched Clarissa’s slim form climb up the steps and into the carriage. He hoped she might look back at him, but she did not.

He got into his carriage, smiling at Rosemary, who looked flushed and a little cold after her long walk through the stalls.

“Did you buy anything?” he asked curiously.

“I bought a shawl for Aunt Eleanor for Christmas. It has some lovely beading, and I think it will go well with one of her gowns.” She settled back in her seat, clearly tired from the day's exertions. “Did you find anything at the fair?”

I found that my feelings for Miss Crompton have grown beyond anything I could have imagined.

“I may have purchased some cider, but otherwise, no. It was a diverting activity. I am exhausted just thinking of the planning Aunt Eleanor has had to put into these two weeks.”

Looking up at his sister, he was surprised to see her watching him curiously.

“You are changed, brother. Even from when you first arrived.”

He frowned at her. “Changed?”

“Indeed. Something has been lost, I think.”

He frowned even deeper. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, it is not a bad thing, believe me. It is almost as though a layer has been removed. I am looking at my brother now. When you first came home, it was still you, but as though you were acting a part. I told our aunt you seemed to be performing even when you were alone. I think that has gone now.”

Nicholas was speechless. Rosemary got out the shawl she had purchased and started to assess how suitable it might be for her aunt.

Nicholas stared out of the window as the carriage trundled onward. His sister's words had rattled him, and he was trying to discover the cause.

Is this Miss Crompton’s doing?

He could not think of any other reason. She was an intelligent, kind, and genuine woman. He felt as though when he was in her company, he could be himself. He had not found anyone abroad who he was as comfortable with as he was with her, and they had only known one another for a matter of days.

In contrast when he thought of Lady Wilde, she represented everything he now recognized he had been running from. He might have returned to England for his duties and to manage his father’s estate, but he was also running away. His life had been vacuous and meaningless. All of the wonder he felt he had known abroad paled in comparison to the wonders he had experienced since he returned.

His time on the continent seemed drab when side by side with the hours he had spent in Miss Crompton’s company. He was now determined to conclude his feelings one way or the other. Either he would discover that the intensity of emotion he felt would fade, or it would persist. Either way, he would have difficulty persuading Miss Crompton that he was worthy of her notice.

Moreover, he would have to challenge his own beliefs and opinions on the matter of love.