Nicholas: Lord of Secrets (5 page)

The words, so casually uttered, sent a blast of winter through the spring day. “You know about that?”

“I know your brothers also got you to the Continent for a couple years while your father’s ire cooled,” he added. “From what I hear, the young man was of good family and had honorable intentions. There was no cause for a duel.”

“There was not, but you may take from my experience that Wilton will stoop very nearly to murder to have his way. I do not think to thwart him with impunity.”

“You’ve considered it, though.” Reston slanted her another look. “You’ve considered running away, eloping with someone else, going into service. Why haven’t you done it?”

That he’d reasoned this accurately on so little acquaintance should have made Leah uneasy. Instead, it provoked her to confidences she ought not to be sharing. “He’s promised to take out any of my misdeeds on Darius,” Leah said. “I don’t know what hold he has over Darius, though much of it is financial, but I will not be the cause of my brother’s ruination.”

Reston rubbed his chin with a hand that should have been sporting gloves. Large hands but capable of a gentle touch. “I see.”

“You’ll leave me in peace, then?”

“My intention was never to disturb your peace, but rather to preserve it.”

“That is not an answer,” Leah bit out. “My lord, you are meddling with my life and the lives of the people I care about. You have no right to do this.”

“And your papa has no right to sell you to that lecher,” Reston rejoined, his voice losing its polite veneer.

“I am his daughter,” Leah reminded him. “He has every right.”

“You have attained your majority.”

“I am an unmarried female. I cannot make contracts, cannot buy land, cannot hire or fire my own employees, cannot own a business unless left to me by my family. I have no salable skills save governessing, and any family that hired me would be subject to the earl’s displeasure.”

Blond brows twitched closer to a lordly nose. “You have thought this through.”

“He watches my pin money,” Leah went on, “so I cannot save but a few pennies on rare occasion. He keeps the jewelry given me by my mother or brothers locked away, so I cannot pawn it. My old dresses are taken from my wardrobe, and the same with my shoes, boots, and so forth.”

“You are a prisoner,” Reston concluded, temper evident in his tone.

“I am a
daughter
,” Leah retorted, “who has earned her father’s disfavor.”

“I am holding in my left hand two gold sovereigns,” Reston said, his tone of voice reverting to deceptive evenness. “When I assist you to rise, you will slip them into your glove.”

Leah felt tears threaten. “My lord, don’t do this. I cannot start a life on two gold sovereigns.”

“You cannot,” he agreed, shifting his walking stick to the side. “But you can hire a cabbie to get you to your brother’s, or to my town house.” He relayed his exact address to her, all the while appearing to be studying the ducks and making small talk, even as he also told her how to reach his grandmother, Lady Warne, and that he’d monitor the park Monday and Tuesday mornings.

“Now, I find the day has turned a trifle brisk,” he said. “I will escort you home once we dump the bread yon footman brings.”

Their time was over. Leah hadn’t seen the footman coming across the park, bag of bread crumbs in hand, but in just moments, he’d be within earshot.

“You cannot escort me home.”

“Can too,” Reston replied pleasantly. He rose to his great height and turned to offer her assistance. By putting his body between Leah and the approaching footman, he gave himself the space to grasp her wrist and arm in such a way that two gold sovereigns were deftly slipped into her glove.

And there was nothing Leah could do about it.

Worse, the cool weight of the golden coins felt good, solid, and encouraging. She closed her fist around them and let Reston raise her to her feet.

“I’ll take those.” Reston stretched his hand out to the footman. “And I’ll assist her ladyship down to the water.”

The footman bowed and surrendered the bread crumbs, retreating to a distance that might have been respectful, though the man’s expression remained watchful.

“So when might Lady Emily join you for another outing?” Reston asked, and Leah took the cue to limit herself to topics the footman could overhear. When the bread crumbs were gone, Reston offered his arm and sauntered along beside her placidly all the way home. At the foot of the steps, he bowed over her hand, giving it a surreptitious squeeze before taking a leisurely departure.

Leah made it a point to frown after him, knowing the footman would report this reaction as well.

“In future, William,” she said, “I will not be sending you to purchase bread crumbs for me. There are too many curious gentlemen in the park, and I do not like being subject to their interrogation regarding my sister.”

“Just so, milady. Curious, very large gentlemen.” He bowed and took his leave, no doubt going to report every word and impression to the earl.

Leah repaired directly to the library, hid her coins behind a ragged volume of
Fordyce’s Sermons
, then took up her embroidery hoop and awaited her own summons from the earl.

Nick’s grandmother, Della, Dowager Marchioness of Warne, had known to expect him and was thus armed with tea, scones, clotted cream, and jam when he showed up on her doorstep en route to another visit to the park.

“I ran into Ethan,” Nick said as they were sitting down in her family parlor. “He looks thinner to me.”

“You look thinner,” his grandmother said. “You great strapping lads need to mind your victuals. You lose your bloom so quickly, otherwise. Have a scone—or two.”

“I love you, Nana,” Nick said as he accepted a plate of the warm, flaky pastries. “Ethan was his usual unforthcoming self. How does he fare?”

“As if I’d know.” Della was the picture of prim disapproval, snow-white braids in a tidy coronet, blue eyes snapping with frustration. “He keeps no mistress that I know of, he does not gamble, he does not attend services, he pores over his investments and accounts, and he seldom strays from his seat in Surrey.”

Nick paused in the demolition of his scones. “When did he start tending his home fires?”

“He purchased the place six or seven years back,” Della replied. “Though he’s really been in residence only for the past three years or so. I haven’t seen the place, but I don’t think it’s far from those friends of yours. At this minute, however, he isn’t in Surrey but on his way to Belle Maison.”

Nick set the remains of his scones down. “He hasn’t been home since he was fourteen.”

“You lectured him into it when last you bumped into him in the park, for which I can only be grateful, truth be told, though I doubt he considers Belle Maison home in any regard.”

“I didn’t lecture him. I offered to go with him, and he declined.” Offered to accompany him so he might make his peace with their dying father.

“Well, he’s going. I cannot help but think it’s a good thing. Your father was at best misguided in his handling of you two, and I’ve let him know it a time or two.”

Or ten, Nick suspected. “Your efforts are, as always, appreciated, Nana.”

“Good.” Della smiled at him, a particularly feline, feminine smile that hinted at the stunning beauty of her past.

Nick’s brows crashed down. “Nana, what have you done?”

“Nothing of any import, but when I found myself at yet another boring musicale on Saturday afternoon, I did contrive to sit next to Lady Leah Lindsey and her handsome older brother. That one is sadly lacking in flirtation, I can tell you.”

“You flirted with Wilton’s heir?” Nick didn’t know whether to groan or smile.

“I did not disgrace myself, Nicholas, but I did strike up a pleasant association with the young lady and invited her to call upon me at her convenience. I am so old and lonely, and have so much time on my hands, you see.”

Guilt spiked upward. Nick shrugged it aside from long practice because Nana was a shameless manipulator who delighted in her machinations. “You are dangerous, but I was going to ask it of you anyway.”

“I know.” Della took a dainty bite of a tea cake with yellow frosting. “You were trying to work up your courage, my boy, and I don’t think the situation will admit of such leisure. The girl looks haunted.”

“She is,” Nick said, leaving it at that. “I appreciate the overture, though, and she will likely need a friend. How did the brother react?”

“He’s quiet. Lost a wife a year or two ago, another match that benefited the Wilton finances, but one gets the impression he misses the lady. She gave him several children in very short order, as I recall, so they must have gotten along to some degree.”

Or
had
a
great
deal
of
making
up
to
do
when
they
hadn’t gotten along.
“I am to meet Lady Leah in the park in thirty minutes or so. I’d best be on my way.” Nick rose and drew his grandmother to her feet, then wrapped her in a hug. “You must promise me to be careful, Nana. If you get to asking questions, it could raise some eyebrows.”

“Oh, my stars.” Della drew back in mock horror. “And what will Wilton do? Call me out? I command more connections in this silly little town than he can imagine, Nicholas. Do not fear for me, and do not hesitate to ask if there’s more I can do.”

“I love you,” Nick said again, meaning it with all his heart.

“And I love you. Away with you now. You’ve a lady to meet, and I have to change into more splendid attire if I’m to go calling on my cronies and friends before the rain comes back in.”

Nick eyed the sky as he made his way to the park, willing the rain to hold off, though clouds were gathering. The bench by the duck pond was dry, thank the gods, so Nick strolled off to another bench and waited for his quarry. In the twenty minutes he was forced to wait, he tried to review what he knew of Leah’s situation and found he couldn’t keep his attention on the task.

He was too busy scanning the park, anticipating her arrival and fretting about what her absence could mean.

Which was odd, when he had no particular personal investment in the woman but intended simply to see her safe from her father’s mischief… Even if she did kiss with a memorable combination of innocence and passion.

And carry a lovely scent.

And haunt his dreams.

Nick was thus scowling mightily when he heard a soft voice at his elbow.

“Shall I interpret that look to be a comment on my presence, Lord Reston?”

Nick rose and offered his arm, hoping his smile was merely friendly and not vastly relieved. “You should interpret it as a comment on my solitudinous state. Good day, Lady Leah. May I escort you to the ducks?”

“You may.” Leah tucked her hand around his arm, her footman falling in behind them several paces back. Nick paused and turned.

He speared the footman with a look that was mostly fatuous suitor leavened with spoiled aristocrat spiced with a sprinkling of man-to-man. “My good fellow, unless you think to insult a peer’s heir, I must ask you to keep a discreet distance so I might encourage the young lady to offer me the occasional flirtatious aside. A man needs every advantage when paying his proper addresses, hmm?”

The footman—the same beetle-browed fellow as last time—blushed, stammered his apologies, and retreated a good distance. Nick nodded his thanks and tucked his hand over Leah’s.

“He’ll not bother us, provided we look to be flirting.” Nick patted her hand as he spoke. “I understand you met my grandmother.”

Leah frowned at the fingers he laid over her knuckles. “Your grandmother?”

“My late mother’s mother, Della, Lady Warne,” Nick said. “I am her only true grandson, though she dotes on the lot of us, including my younger half siblings.” She did not dote on Ethan—nobody did. “You can trust her in every regard.” And what a solid satisfaction it gave Nick to mean that.

“You cannot think to engage that dear, elderly lady in my father’s schemes, Lord Reston.”

“I cannot think to keep her out of them. How are you?”

He asked the question because Leah looked to him, if anything, pale and tired.

“Hellerington calls upon my father in several days,” she said, not exactly answering Nick’s question. “I cannot be sanguine about that.”

“I call upon Hellerington this afternoon,” Nick informed her, “and I will soon hold the bulk of his markers and will use them to your advantage.”

“You’re buying up his debts?” Leah paused to peer up at him. “Why?”

Nick resumed their progress rather than bear her scrutiny, tugging on her hand to encourage her to move with him. “It’s no great effort. He generally does pay his debts, if slowly, and I can afford it.” He decided not to tell her that with the aid of a discreet investigator, he was also buying up Wilton’s debts, not wanting to unnerve her further.

“I dislike that you would risk coin on me. I gather I cannot stop you.”

“You cannot.” Nothing could stop him—Nick had made up his mind on that. “When I assist you down to the water, I will slip another two sovereigns into your glove.”

“My father may be on to you,” Leah said as they left the path. Nick angled his body around hers, as if they were promenading, his right hand at her waist, his left gripping her left hand. On the damp grass, Leah’s foot slipped.

“Oh, well done,” Nick murmured near her ear. She was cast against him, momentarily leaning on his greater strength to get her footing. Nick slipped coins into her glove, even as he took a shameless whiff of her fragrance.

“Gads, you’re strong,” Leah said when he’d righted her.

“Very, and you need to explain yourself.” He stepped away, finding much to his surprise that he needed the distance. Her flowery scent had teased his nostrils, her lithe shape had felt too right against his chest, and her worry was stirring his protective urges.

Well, his urges, at any rate.

“The earl is aware we’ve met here twice,” Leah said, her voice carefully even. “I am to be pleasant to you at all times and keep him informed of further encounters.”

Nick glanced over at her, resenting the need to use his brain, resenting the way the muddy scent of the pond eclipsed the fragrance Leah wore. “Am I courting you or your sister?”

Leah tossed a handful of bread crumbs onto the surface of the water, provoking a honking, quacking stampede on the part of the waterfowl.

“If you court my sister,” Leah said when the ruckus died down, “the earl will reason you can offer for her now and save him the expense of her come out.”

Nick reached over and appropriated the bag of crumbs. “Leaving you at Hellerington’s mercy and enriching your father to the extent of your bride price. So I had best court you, hadn’t I?”

“I don’t want you to,” Leah said, her expression damnably serene. “You can’t keep up such a farce, and sooner or later, there will be another Hellerington, or worse.”

Nick tossed the bread much farther out over the water than Leah could have. “What would make you happy, Leah Lindsey?”

“Happy is not a useful concept,” she muttered in reply. “Happy would mean I did not dwell with the death of a decent young man on my conscience. Happy would mean my brothers were not saddened daily by my circumstances. Happy would mean I could be completely indifferent to those who still comment on the years I spent in Italy.”

Nick handed the remains of the bread crumbs back to her but let his hand cup hers briefly in the process. There was more misery and heartache here than he’d first surmised, and it bothered him.

“Your past is not happy,” he said, watching the ducks, “but your future can be more enjoyable. I like that little fellow on the end there, with the yellowish wings. He’s a scrapper.”

Leah smiled at the little duck, who was paddling furiously after his share of the crumbs. “He’s dirty.”

“Scrappers are willing to get dirty in pursuit of their ends,” Nick remarked, making his point, he hoped. “Which one catches your fancy?”

“That one.” Leah nodded at a swan gliding along across the pond. “She could not care less for what troubles her inferiors.”

“Above it all,” Nick agreed. “But probably hanging about over there so nobody will hear her stomach complaining. Too proud, that one.”

“I am not too proud,” Leah said, keeping her voice down. “My father is not to be underestimated, and you will make matters worse with your meddling. When you tire of playing the gallant, I will be left to suffer his displeasure.”

“Hush,” Nick soothed, seeing she was near tears and hating the sight. “Yon stalwart footman will suspect we are not in charity. Toss some more bread, Leah, and listen to me.”

She obeyed, to his relief—and did not take umbrage at his appropriation of her name.

“I am not going to meddle and then lose interest in your situation.” Nick kept his voice low, as it had been in the darkness of the Winterthurs’ parlor. “I will see to your welfare, and without bringing you further misery. You are out of the habit of hoping and trusting, and you grow frantic at the thought of the fate pressing upon you. Trust me, and I will win you free of it.”

“You must not do this.” She swiped at her eyes with her glove. “You must not.”

“Ah, now.” Nick’s tone became wistful. “I might have been talked out of it before, but I’ve made you cry. Shame on me, and there’s no help for it now. Compose yourself.” He shifted to stand behind her, not quite touching but shielding her from the gaze of the nosy footman, literally guarding her back while she gathered her wits.

“I hate to cry.”

“I’m none too fond of it myself. Are we out of bread crumbs?”

“Not quite.” She passed the bag back to him, and he sidled around beside her. “Aim for your friend.”

“But of course.” Nick spied the little duck paddling near the bank and tossed the last handful in its direction. “I’m off to Kent for the next couple of days, but I’d like you to call on my grandmother on Friday morning, and I do mean morning, not a morning call.”

“I can do that,” Leah said, surprising him. “She invited me in my brother’s hearing, and I’m not sure my father comprehends the connection. He doesn’t socialize a great deal, though he is received.”

“Then don’t tell him, unless Lady Warne tells you to.” As Nick stood close to her, Leah’s fragrance enveloped him again. Lily of the valley had never struck Nick as an erotic scent, but it was winding through his senses and stirring all manner of feelings.

“Return of happiness,” Nick murmured, earning him a sharp glance from the lady. “Your scent—lily of the valley?—it symbolizes the return of happiness.”

“I’d forgotten that,” Leah said, smiling at him slightly.

“I would not lie to a woman.”

“You are not the typical titled heir,” Leah said, her smile fading. “I could not abide you were you to lie to me, Lord Reston.”

For a man to keep certain matters to himself for years on end was not lying. Nick tried to convince himself of this regularly.

“Call me Nick,” he said softly as they regained the path. “And send a note around to Lady Warne. Be warned, though, she’ll stuff you like a goose if you let her.”

Leah eyed Nick up and down. “I bid you good day, my lord.”

For the benefit of the footman, Nick adopted the same polite tones.