Charlotte rushed forward, leaning over Nicolette to kiss her on the cheek before pulling a chair up beside the bed. “You look much better today. It does not seem like it has been two days.”
“I cannot believe it has been two days either.”
“You gave us such a scare.” Charlotte’s voice wavered, and she put her hand to her lips. “I am sorry, my dear. The memory is forever etched in my mind. I can’t close my eyes without the horrible image of you laying there, looking like death itself.”
“I only remember bits and pieces.”
“He brought you back from the dead, Nic. I swear it. You were not breathing, and God forgive me, but I thought you were dead. We all did, but Salvatore would not hear it. He would not stop in his efforts, and I am forever grateful for his perseverance.” She pulled a kerchief from her dress sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “That man loves you, Nicolette, with an intensity I have never seen. I saw raw pain in his eyes, heard the fear in his voice as he asked for God to help him. He roared it to the heavens. I tell you the very hair on my arms stood on end—and still does just thinking of it. When you stirred, I knew that I had witnessed a miracle.”
Nicolette smiled softly. “I am well, and it is behind us.”
“Forgive me for being so mean to you that day. I confess that I was angry with you for being with Darian. I did not understand, and though I still don’t, I had no right to be cruel. I blame myself, because I doubt you would have ventured into the river so far had I not. I can’t imagine if you had died, Nicolette. I would live with the guilt for all my days.”
“I have no intention of going anywhere.”
“The entire household has been asking of you. It’s been quite somber without you and Salvatore about.”
“Where has Salvatore been?”
Charlotte patted the chair she now sat in. “Right here. I have taken over playing nursemaid for him several times, only because I could not bear to see him so exhausted. He fought me every time, too, but finally last night when I came in to find him slumped over in the chair, he took up my offer to watch over you, so he could rest for a bit.”
“You are a good friend.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “And as a dear friend, I must let you know about something.”
Nicolette’s stomach turned.
“Lady Wellesley asked me about you.” Charlotte sat up straighter. “She said that her husband believes you to be his child.”
Nicolette frowned, uncertain she had heard Charlotte correctly. “He told her that?”
Charlotte nodded. “It does not take a genius to know the two of you share a remarkable resemblance. You have his eyes, Nic, and the same dimples.”
Her father had dimples? She had not noticed. “I have no father, Charlotte.”
Pulling the chair closer to the bed, Charlotte took hold of Nicolette’s hand. “Simon Laurent has no heir, Nicolette. He and Henrietta have been unable to have children, and he has always yearned for a child. In all truthfulness, can you tell me that the idea of having your father in your life is intolerable?”
“He left my mother pregnant and alone. He did not want me, and he did not want her. When he left her, she was devastated, and I was left to pick up the pieces. I thank God that my mother and I ended up at a brothel where Salvatore and his mother lived. Salvatore is the one who raised me, and my father has him to thank for it. Simon Laurent means nothing to me, nor will he ever. He destroyed my mother, the only family I had left.”
“You had Salvatore.”
Nicolette nodded. “Yes, I had Salvatore.”
“And had Simon not left your mother, you would have never met Salvatore.”
“That is true.”
“See, fate is a strange thing, is it not?”
Confused by the analogy, Nicolette squeezed her friend’s hand in reassurance. “Indeed, it is.”
“Will you consider speaking with him?” Charlotte asked, wincing as she did.
Her heart skipped a beat. “He has asked you to speak to me in his stead?”
Charlotte nodded. “Indeed, he did. Forgive me if I have overstepped the boundaries of our friendship.”
“I am not ready to face him yet, but thank you for your honesty.”
Nicolette’s eyes felt heavy, and she closed them for a moment.
“I have kept you overlong,” Charlotte said, standing, and placing a kiss on Nicolette’s forehead. “Sleep now, my dear.”
Nicolette allowed her friend to tuck her in, and with a promise to be back later, Charlotte shut the door behind her.
*****
Salvatore tried to focus on the notes before him, but could not for the life of him finish the score. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and concerns—at the forefront of those concerns was Nicolette.
What kind of person was he, that he had enlisted his best friend, and the love of his life, to seduce his brother? And for what? Revenge? Revenge for what? For their father’s neglect, something that Darian Tremayne had no control over?
He would have allowed Nicolette to give her virginity—her truest gift—to the one man he’d despised so much.
The vengeance that had burned within him seemed so trivial now. Everything seemed trivial, and with each day that he remained in the house, he was reminded of the sordid plan to bring his brother to ruin, by using his best friend—his beloved—to seek revenge on a man not worthy of the trouble.
Dipping the pen in the ink, he focused his thoughts and hummed the line that had been playing in his head, over and over again. He wrote furiously, the notes dotting the page. The dinner hour came and went. The tray the servant had brought in remained untouched.
And the memories of the past few days, the emotions, tumbled from him onto the page, bringing him the only peace he would know in this despised house.
How fitting that he had almost lost what was most dear, at the very home he had coveted his entire life. It was as though God was telling him that what was important were the people around him and not the things one had.
Humming the last few notes, he dotted them on the page, and looked down at the parchment with a sense of satisfaction.
The song had poured from him, demanding release. It missed one thing however—a title. He dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote Nicolette at the top of the page. With a smile he dotted the i.
A light knock sounded at the door. Earlier he had told the servant to go away, and feeling more than a little guilty, Salvatore walked to the door. He opened it, ready with an apology, to find Simon Laurent standing before him.
“May I have a word with you?” the marquess asked, glancing past Salvatore’s shoulder as though he expected someone else to be there.
Salvatore opened the door and motioned the older man in.
“I hope I am not keeping you from anything.” Simon glanced at the sheet of music, and Salvatore shook his head.
“I only just finished.” He motioned to a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
Simon took the seat closest at hand, and Salvatore sat, wiping his ink-stained hands on a towel.
“You’ve been writing.”
Salvatore nodded, tossed the towel aside. “What can I do for you?”
Clearing his throat, Simon sat back in his chair and steepled his hands together. “I know who you are. I remember you as a child.”
A sense of foreboding came over Salvatore, and he quelled the rush of fear that came rising to the surface. “And I remember you.”
“You have the eyes of your father,” Simon said, brushing an imaginary string from his pants. “Just as Darian does.”
So it was out, and Salvatore felt relieved.
Almost.
Simon’s brows furrowed. “I do not pretend to know what my daughter’s life was like once I left. Nicolette’s mot
her told me she was pregnant, but I heard rumors that she had other lovers, and in years to come, when I could not sire a child with my wife, I came to the conclusion that Nicolette could not possibly be mine. When I saw her the other day, I felt taken back in time. She resembles her mother so very much, of course, except for her eyes, which—”
“Are yours,” Salvatore finished for him.
“Yes, indeed. Just like mine.” Simon pursed his lips together. “I have heard you have been instrumental in her life, and for that I owe you a deep gratitude.”
Salvatore’s stomach knotted. “You owe me nothing.”
Simon lifted a brow. “I have also heard you are a proud man, and I respect you for that.”
Salvatore leaned forward in his chair. “Let us put aside these niceties and get to the real reason you are here.”
Simon laughed under his breath, yet the humor did not seem to touch his eyes. “You saved my daughter’s life, and I will always be grateful to you for that. Your heroics have been told the past two nights in great detail. You took care of her then, just as you always have, but I am here to set you free of your obligation.”
The hairs on the back of Salvatore’s neck stood on end. He dreaded the words to come. He shifted in his chair. “I do not understand.”
Simon reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a note. He leaned forward, ready to hand it to Salvatore. “You have taken care of my daughter for long enough. It is now time for me to do my duty by her.”
“And you seek to pay me off, and expect me to disappear from her life?” Salvatore controlled his voice, though it took great effort.
Color crept into the marquess’s cheeks. “I will introduce her to society. She will have a sizeable dowry and marry well. She will want for nothing.”
The icy fingers of dread wrapped around Salvatore’s heart.
“I will not be bought, my lord.” He snatched the note from Simon’s hands, ripped it into shreds, and let the pieces fall to the floor. “I have loved her, and raised her, and you were not there...and yet you have the gall to sit before me, hand me a note, and think that I will disappear,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that?”
“I mean you no disrespect, Salvatore. You yourself would never have to work again. Name your price. I have the ability to give you anything.”
Salvatore took an unsteady breath. He only wanted one thing...and that was Nicolette.
“She has lived a life that is not conducive to debutantes.” The marquess actually sniffed. “She needs to behave as a young woman of good upbringing. She cannot travel about the world without a chaperone, living with a man to whom she is not married.”
“I will marry her then.”
Simon frowned. “Salvatore, what do you have to offer her?” He looked about the room. “You travel from place to place, staying with members of the aristocracy. In essence, singing for your supper. I ask what will you do when you are no longer the toast of London or Paris? What will you do when someone else comes along to take your place, as all entertainers are replaced. I say this not to hurt you, but to give you a chance at a life you deserve. I know the anger you have for your father. The hurt of being denied a father’s love is not something one gets over. Nicolette knows that hurt as well, and I am offering her what even you, Salvatore, cannot give her—the chance to have her father, and to be recognized as my daughter. The possibilities for her will be limitless.”
No! The word screamed over and over in his mind, and yet he knew what Simon said was the truth. What could he give her? In time their popularity would fade and then what? He could teach music, as could she, but would life in a small cottage be enough? They had tasted what wealth and prestige could give. Could one be happy without it? One day they would have to find out.
Yet Nicolette had an escape. A chance at an amazing life.
She could live that life...forever.
“You brought her here to seduce your brother, Salvatore. I know that. The countess knows that. She has even asked me about you.” Simon laughed without mirth. “She tells me there is something about you that makes her uneasy, and I did not have the heart to tell her that you are her husband’s bastard child. That the only reason you came here was to see the marriage between Darian and Elizabeth not take place.” Simon bent over and scooped up the pieces of the note and placed them in his pocket. “I know, as do you, the state of Kedgwick’s finances. Release her, Salvatore. Give her a chance at the life that you were denied.” He pursed his lips together and stood. “I will draw up another note, one for considerably more money, and we will no longer speak of the matter. I wish you good luck with your life, young man.”
“Nicolette will not hear of it,” Salvatore said, coming to his feet. “She will choose me.”
“Nicolette need not know about our arrangement. I realize she feels indebted to you, but will you hold that over her head and forego the chance of her having a life she has only dreamed of? I think not, young man. I think you love her too much to deny her her birthright.”
Running a hand through his hair, Salvatore shook his head in disbelief. “You expect me to leave without saying a word to her?”
“I think it best. I know you have a close bond, one that I envy, to be quite honest. Darian has already been told about your scheme, and about your relation to him. He is furious and I’ve had to restrain him from calling you out. If he has his way, he will see you ruined. The only thing that keeps you here now is my intervention, and the love and loyalty my daughter feels for you.”
Salvatore did not even want to know how Darian had reacted to such news. In fact, he did not care about anything. His heart ached too much.
“I have already informed my valet and he will see to your bags. A carriage is awaiting you as we speak.” Simon took the steps that separated them and clapped him on the back.
Salvatore flinched.
“I give you my word that my daughter will be safe. I will do her no harm. Indeed, I shall spend the rest of my life making up for the past.”
Salvatore could not even move. He stared at Simon as he made his way to the door. The older man opened it, then stopped. “I am forever in your debt, Salvatore. If ever you need anything—anything at all, write to me...and I will see it done, but to be clear—you are never to see Nicolette again.”
The marquess closed the door, and Salvatore fell to his knees.
Chapter Fourteen
Nicolette’s appearance at dinner was met by a roaring round of applause. Feeling silly, and with cheeks burning, she made her way to the dinner table, while thanking those who gushed over her.
It seemed ridiculous to be the center of attention for almost getting oneself killed. She would as soon forget the entire matter, but her dinner guests were not about to let her. Tonight she sat with Darian to her right, and Simon Laurent to her left.
Her father pulled out her chair and she managed a smile for him. She did not know what to make of him, and his sudden interest in her life. She had learned to be wary of everyone, particularly men, from a very early age. Perhaps she had grown even more cynical with time.
She looked down the table, hoping to see Salvatore. He had not come back to her room this afternoon as promised, which was so out of character she’d been on edge since waking. Not seeing him amongst the now-familiar faces made her more than a little uneasy. Perhaps he slept? Lord knows he needed the rest. He had looked exhausted earlier.
Deciding that’s exactly where he was, she sat back and steadied herself to have her father as her dinner companion. She caught his wife’s eye, who sat diagonally across from her, talking to Lord Athenry, who seemed well into his cups already if the widow’s pained expression were to tell.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” Simon said, a warm smile on his face.
She glanced his way. “Thank you, my lord.”
He winc
ed, and she wondered if it was because of her formality. Certainly he did not think she would be so intimate as to call him Father.
That would never happen.
Henrietta smiled warmly. “We are so relieved to see you up and about. What a horrible accident.”
“Thank you, Lady Wellesley.”
The woman seemed genuine, and for that reason Nicolette felt a wave of guilt. Her mother would roll over in her grave if she knew her daughter actually was growing to like the very woman who had stolen the love of her life away.
Nicolette took a sip of tea and nearly choked on it as a hand stroked the side of her thigh.
Darian smiled at his fiancée who watched him from down the table. The poor woman. She had no idea her betrothed was such a cad and even now, while smiling at her, groped another beneath the table.
The day of her near-drowning Darian was supposed to come to Nicolette. Now that she had recovered and it was the end of the party, would he expect to meet up with her?
She nodded toward the footman across the room. He rushed forward and poured a dollop of wine into the glass. “To the rim please,” she said.
Darian laughed under his breath beside her. “That’s the spirit.”
She did not even glance in Simon’s direction. No doubt he would frown upon her drinking. Henrietta managed a tight smile and looked to her husband.
Nicolette lifted her glass, and almost dropped it when at her side, Simon tapped on his glass with a fork.
Silence filled the room as Simon stood.
“I’d like to make a toast. To my daughter, the Lady Nicolette Laurent, the most talent pianist in all of Europe.”
Gasps followed the declaration, and Nicolette could feel the blood drain from her face as she met Charlotte’s shocked smile.
“To Lady Nicolette!” Darian said, standing, pulling Nicolette up to join the others.
The guests raised their cups in toast. “To Lady Nicolette!”
A Dangerous Game Page 15
