by Kresley Cole
“Is that what you’ve been telling people?”
She looked up with a chilling smile. “Yes,” she hissed, looking very pleased with herself.
He tried not to laugh aloud. He’d never expected such a resolution. “And how do you plan to explain your condition?”
“I’ll be gone by the time anyone suspects. My next husband’s family is Catholic. He wants his child—but not a divorced mother.”
“I can’t believe you would do this,” he said honestly.
“Believe it. It’s already been set in motion. I’ll be free of you in a matter of days.”
“You’ve told everyone? There’s no way to take it back?”
She gave that same eerie smile. “I’ve given my oath.”
“Excellent!”
She looked startled.
“Bloody good idea, Lydia. I’ll see that my solicitors push it through with all haste.” He left the beautiful Lydia sputtering, her plump red lips gaping like those of a fish.
Prepared to be chastised, Nicole walked in to see her grandmother for the first time in more than seven months. Before the voyage, she’d claimed she planned to shop during a relaxing vacation on the Continent. Now that the dowager was aware of everything, Nicole braced herself for a martial demeanor and cutting accusations.
So she was more than surprised to find her grandmother, the Marchioness of Atworth, lovingly rubbing noses with one of her pugs, and chatting to the unmoving animal.
“Are you Mommy’s wittle Pixie?” she asked. She answered for the dog with something that sounded suspiciously like “Oh, S…U…R.”
The dog looked as dumbfounded as Nicole felt. Finally, she cleared her throat.
Her grandmother looked up sharply. “Why weren’t you announced?” she asked, tucking the dog under her arm.
“I told Chapman I could show myself in—but if I’m disturbing you…” she said in an incredulous voice.
To her amazement, her stern grandmother chuckled. “Well, you caught me doing the pretty to my pug.” Then she held up the object of her affection. “Pixie is such a sweet little girl, isn’t she? In the past, I never told her.”
In answer, Nicole only raised her eyebrows. She couldn’t seem to erase the startled look she felt settling on her face. It became even more fixed when, after setting down the dog, her grandmother walked over and, with a surprising strength, hugged her for the first time in her life.
Nicole recalled the strange moment when she’d seen Maria on the dock in Cape Town. Chancey, the crew, her father—they were all there. She’d had the oddest thought and almost became embarrassed by it: The only one missing is Grandmother .
“Don’t look so surprised, gel. I don’t hold back feeling any longer. Anytime I want to express emotion, I do it.”
It was then that she noticed her grandmother’s collar wasn’t buttoned to choking tightness, and she wasn’t garbed in black. Steel gray, yes, but at least not her usual dour attire. “What brought about this change?” Nicole asked slowly.
“When your father told me where you were going, I was saddened because it appeared that you would do anything to get away from me.”
Nicole felt a swift pang of guilt and opened her mouth to explain, but her grandmother continued, “I know now how important that race was to you. So like Laurel you are. No, what really changed me was the word that your ship had gone down. I believed you were dead, and all I could do was recall with regret the times you were here. Regret because I should have treated you differently. I should have told you how very much you are like my own daughter,” she confessed, her dark eyes shining.
Nicole sat down at the mention of her mother. “We both loved sailing. I remember hearing her laughter.” She met her grandmother’s eyes and said, “She was happy in her life.”
Her grandmother took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand now what caused her to run away—though her choice of accomplice remains a mystery,” she added dryly, and Nicole had to smile.
Then the marchioness turned serious. “I won’t chase away my granddaughter as well. Circumstances will change around here. I’ll never make it like that for you again,” she vowed resolutely.
Nicole must have looked incredulous.
“What? You don’t believe me?” Raising an eyebrow, her grandmother boldly challenged, “Invite your father to dinner here tonight.”
“Father?” Nicole asked in a strangled tone. “Here? With you? Are you serious?”
“I am always serious.”
“What about Chancey?” Nicole ventured to ask.
Her grandmother swallowed and allowed in a pained voice, “Very well.” Then amended, “In proper attire…”
Nicole nodded, then dared, “Father also has a…guest with him.”
The dowager frowned before flashing a comprehending look. “Oh, a guest . Well, I suppose we should invite her, too.”
That night when Jason Lassiter first encountered the marchioness, he lost the ability to speak. Because she said briskly, “I was confident you’d bring her back safely, Jason.” Then she mumbled, “Thank you.”
When Maria nudged him to speak, he sputtered, “You should thank Chancey. He was the one who watched out for her.”
Chancey didn’t think, just pulled at his collar and spoke. “It weren’t me that saved her. It were Sutherland.”
“Oh? And who’s this Sutherland?”
Nicole affected an unconcerned look while everyone around her fell silent. The dowager glanced from face to face, trying to determine why the room had grown quiet. To break the awkwardness, Maria approached her and curtsied.
The marchioness, out of long habit, looked her over, taking in every detail from the unadorned navy dress of fine fabric to the spectacles. With a decided look on her face, she declared, “You must be a governess.”
Needed laughter bubbled up. Nicole had to fold her lips in and stare at the ceiling.
Dinner was initially awkward. But the sumptuous meal of braised duck with shallots served with an unstinting flow of wine made even Chancey stop glaring at his utensils.
By the time the footmen removed their dishes, talk had turned to the shipping company. Nicole had learned on the return voyage that Lassiter and Maria had secured financing to fund the line. Their first step, they’d decided, was to commission the construction of a replacement flagship or to purchase one outright. But they and Chancey were reluctant to leave Nicole.
“I’m fine,” Nicole asserted to the table. “I know you have to take care of business. Please stop hovering over me. I’ll try not to marry while you’re away,” she teased.
Her father smiled, though clearly unconvinced.
Nicole reassured him. “You know I want what’s best for the line. After I marry, I plan to help you as much as possible.” She turned to Maria. “You will make him go?”
Maria’s eyes were questioning.
“Please, Maria. I’m twenty years old. We have three footmen, and I’m living in Mayfair. I’m safer than I’ve ever been in my whole life.”
Grandmother pointed out, “Jason, it might be for the best if you two aren’t seen together for a bit. I’ve stuck to the same story for fifteen years. If we call her by her middle name, no one in the ton should be able to connect her to Nicole Lassiter, the sailor. At least not until after she marries.”
“Are ye sure about this, Nic?” Chancey asked gruffly.
“Yes. I want to be married. I want children, and I’ll be twenty-one next month.” She smiled at the marchioness. “Grandmother’s giving me no pressure, but I’m ready. Plus, we don’t have much time—the season’s already begun.”
The others began talking of something else, and Lassiter leaned closer and said in a low voice, “You don’t have to do this. I take back all the things I’ve said before. Soon I’ll be better able to provide for you.”
She smiled fondly at him. “With Maria’s help…”
His eyes lit up. “I think we’re making it official—”
“Yo
u’re going to marry her?” she whispered excitedly.
He looked startled and confused. “No. Officially make her a partner. She plans to sell her Brazilian, uh, enterprise. Why would you ever think we’d marry?”
“I think you could be very happy together.”
The look on his face made it clear he’d never thought of Maria in those terms. “Nicole—Iam married.”
“I understand.” And she meant it. But that wouldn’t preclude her from trying to change his mind.
He abruptly asked, “What about Sutherland?”
Nicole deliberately chose to misunderstand him and waved off his concern. “Pssh, I’ll be sure to stay out of the Mermaid and any other waterfront holes, so I probably won’t run into him.”
Father smiled at her bravado. “That’s my girl. Always were a strong little thing.”
Her grandmother heard this last comment and interjected. “Perish the thought. She’s not strong—she’s delicate. Not another word from you, Lassiter.”
Five days later, Nicole waved the trio and many of the Bella Nicola ’s crew off on the Griffin, another of her father’s ships, bound for Liverpool. She had no time for sadness, because Grandmother had whisked in an army of seamstresses to slave over Nicole. At the end of the week, she was prepared for her first ball. She’d complained about the extravagance of having so many women working on her gowns, but her grandmother had decreed it an emergency, so she’d gone along.
The marchioness would introduce her to society, secure invitations, and settle Nicole in. Then she would rest, by God.
The first ball they attended dazzled Nicole with the lights, the silks, and the beautiful, bejeweled people fluttering on the ballroom floor.
She quickly got over it.
In fact, she had been right all along. This world, this social sphere, was not her place. If she had to be on land, then she wanted to see the land. Not imposing mansions with a tease of a garden, or even a park to really whet the appetite, but miles and miles of land laid out in flats and swells like the ocean.
To be honest, she didn’t necessarily want to return to the sea, because without the Bella Nicola, everything had been altered. But the ton life wasn’t meant for her, either. After a few weeks of this existence, she felt as if she’d found a shining coin on the street that disappointed when found to be worthless.
The ball she and her grandmother attended this night was much the same as the others. Nicole was slowly dying, smothered by the weight of convention and the cut of her dress. The perfumes that initially had delighted her swirled in her head and assaulted her senses, as did the odor of a thousand lit candles cloying in the crowded ballroom. She couldn’t get quite enough air.
Dizzy and breathless, Nicole didn’t believe it when she saw him .
As she gazed at his broad back, his thick, black hair, his powerful form standing taller than any other in the room, the churning in her stomach intensified. Hadn’t she been assured repeatedly that he was never seen at these functions? Unable to move, she stared spellbound as he turned.
She couldn’t stop the knitting of her brows. It wasn’t Derek.
Yet she couldn’t look away. He was so similar, he had to be a brother. Though Derek had never mentioned he had one. In fact, he’d never talked about his family at all.
The man raised his eyebrows, no doubt curious about her staring. He gave her a good-natured smile that faded to a look of concern when she stood unmoving. He walked over to the earl of Allenton, her grandmother’s friend who’d squired them to half a dozen functions. The man gave a nod indicating her, and he and Allenton approached her.
She hissed in a breath. Had Derek told him about her? Did this man know who she was? Know she’d made love to his brother? The panic clamoring through her body made her light-headed.
“Lady Christina,” Allenton began, “it appears you have made yet another conquest. May I present Grant Sutherland, Viscount Anderleigh.”
He offered another friendly smile as he bowed. She struggled to make a charming reply, to smile even, but she was frozen. This man’s hard-planed face brought her ruthlessly suppressed feelings for Derek to the fore, ripping open all the barriers she’d constructed to hold her pain in check.
She was saved from an unexpected quarter. “Grant, who is your new acquaintance?” a woman asked, as she planted herself between the men.
Incredibly, Grant Sutherland, who seemed every inch the gentleman, ignored her.
“Darling brother,” the woman began in a syrupy voice, “you must introduce me to the talk of the ton.”
Nicole experienced a tug of sympathy for this man Grant.
“Lydia, don’t you have some packing to do?” he asked in an obviously restrained tone. “I heard you were taking a long trip.” When she didn’t move, he asked, “Where’s the count? I thought he was looking for you just minutes ago. We wouldn’t want him to leave you.”
“He’s not going anywhere without me,” she said in a boastful manner, strangely undeterred by the cold anger in his eyes. “Won’t you introduce me?”
His face held a look of distaste as he related in what was more an admission than a presentation, “This is my sister-in-law, Lydia Sutherland.”
“Grant! Tsk, tsk. So impolite.” She faced Nicole. “I am Lady Stanhope.” The woman made a halfhearted motion of greeting. “The countess of Stanhope.”
Nicole could have sworn Grant mumbled to her, “Not for long, sister.” Had his lips even moved?
Wait…How could she be the countess? Thoughts crept in—Nicole desperately batted them away. “S-sister-in-law?” she finally managed.
“Yes,” the countess answered slowly. As she openly scrutinized Nicole, she seemed to home in on her discomfiture as though it were a beacon.
Nicole strove for a disaffected mien. “So, which brother are you married to?” she asked, even as her mind was answering her own question. She glanced over the shining black hair and cameo perfection of her face in delayed recognition. This woman was beautiful, but not if you really looked in her eyes….
Lady Stanhope smiled unpleasantly. “There are only two brothers.”
The lights flickered, then faded altogether. Why couldn’t she get enough air? The invisible noose was back, only this time it was too bitingly tight….
Sitting in bed considering her situation, Nicole laughed, but it was a sad, humorless sound. No wonder the hateful bastard hadn’t wanted to marry her. She’d thought she would cry all night, but she had no tears left for him. This morning she’d awoken with a hollow pang in her chest and the stark conclusion that she was an adulteress. That knowledge made her want to despise herself. Instead, she directed the feeling at him. Anger had a way of making her strong.
Nicole promised herself she would go on. She would not let this get in the way of her plans. And, most important, no one would ever imagine the pain she kept inside.
“Nicole, what on earth made you faint like that?” the marchioness asked over breakfast. “I didn’t see it, but I heard you dropped like a rock.”
She hoped it wasn’t quite so bad. In Nicole’s mind, she’d more or less sunk down, cushioned by the flounces of her gown. “It wasn’t that terrible. Embarrassing all the same, of course.”
“Are you ill?” she queried with a look of anxiety on her face.
“I am perfectly healthy. I’m just not used to the weight of the gowns and the closeness in the rooms yet,” Nicole answered somewhat honestly.
The marchioness eyed her and was opening her mouth to say more, but Nicole cut her off. “How fast could we bring one of my suitors up to scratch?”
Her grandmother looked startled. “Well, I couldn’t say…”
“Just an estimate. A week? Two?”
“That depends on the suitor,” she answered carefully. “It depends on which one you choose.”
Nicole’s fingers were clenched in her dress. “I choose the one who can be brought up to scratch the quickest.”
The dowager set her plate as
ide. “Then I suppose a week to finalize the contracts, if I put some pressure on.”
Nicole caught her gaze. “Then, Grandmother, I’m asking you for pressure.”
He should be elated, Derek told himself. He’d wanted to be free of Lydia for five years now. Five long years. Now he could marry Nicole as soon as he found her. But on the heels of that thought, the Irisher’s words filtered into his mind for the thousandth time. Was he worthy of her?
His life was in shambles. Even with the annulment finalized, the fact remained that he’d been married before. He drank too much, and his estates would have rotted if his brother hadn’t assumed his responsibilities.
But if he’d learned anything from his time with Nicole, it was that you had to fight for what you wanted. And he’d fight for her now. He’d make himself worthy.
As he sat in his study going over the runners’ reports, his mother strolled in and casually wandered over to inspect his bookshelves.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I haven’t pressed, but don’t you think it’s time to tell me what all these men are doing as they come and go from here? Won’t you enlighten me as to what you do all day?”
What did it matter if she knew? She would find out soon enough when he brought Nicole here to marry him.
“They are Bow Street runners. I have hired them to search for the woman I want to marry.”
Her arm shot out to the nearest chair arm for support.
“You’ve already met her?” Her eyes wide, she asked, “Well, who is her family? What is their title?”
He smiled. “You’ve never heard of her family. In fact, I’d like to forget she even has one. There is no title.”
His mother sank into the chair.
There’d be no way to spare her. He might as well tell her so she at least had time to accustom herself to the idea before he came back with Nicole. He took a breath and informed her, “The woman I desire to marry is an American.”
Amanda Sutherland appeared to relax at that information. Most people of her acquaintance could overlook an American without a title if she was extravagantly wealthy….
“The family fortune runs in the negative at this point.”
Her hand inched up to her mouth. “Could you have found someone who would be more disastrous to this family?”
