Nicholas

by Cheryl Holt

  “Here is what you are going to do,” he nagged again. “You will get up in the morning. You’ll eat breakfast, saddle your horse, then ride to London. You will not say goodbye to her. You will not give her any hint of your intentions. You will simply sneak away, then you will never come back until you hear—in the distant future—that she is happily married to some local boy who loves her as you never could.”

  Nicholas’s thoughts reeled, the notion of his Em wed to another making him ill. He absolutely could not envision such a thing.

  “I’m not ready to return to London,” he protested.

  “If you don’t do as I’ve bid you, I will tell her about Veronica. I’ll tell her you’re betrothed and have been for months.” Stephen leaned even nearer and hissed, “I’ll tell her that your wedding is at the end of August! How would you guess she’ll take the news?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I? I’m not bluffing. Don’t force my hand.”

  Stephen eased away and sank into his chair. They were silent again, glowering.

  A thousand words were on the tip of Nicholas’s tongue. He yearned to explain his strange infatuation, to justify his conduct, even though there was no excuse for it.

  Still, he felt compelled to plead, “She’d never understand about Veronica.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.”

  “Why would you deliberately hurt her?”

  Stephen scoffed. “Why would I hurt her? Oh, that’s rich.”

  “She’ll hate me.”

  “She should hate you. You’re contemptible.”

  “She doesn’t think I am. She thinks I’m wonderful.”

  “Then someone should tell her the truth. It might as well be me.”

  Stephen’s derision was clear, but then, he’d known Nicholas for a long time. Stephen had no illusions about Nicholas’s character, and Nicholas couldn’t abide his condemning stare. He shifted to gaze out the window again, surveying his property, all the way to the gate that held such a lonely, awful memory.

  Was it so wrong to dally with Emeline? He’d never really had anything that mattered. She mattered. Stephen was asking him to let her go, and Nicholas couldn’t bear the idea. Part of it was general stubbornness. If he was ordered to behave in a certain manner, he’d do the opposite merely to be contrary.

  Yet he wanted Emeline—both for the moment and into the future. Whether that would be weeks or months, he couldn’t say. But the prospect of splitting with her was galling.

  “What if I…”—he paused, formulating nonsensical plans—“what if I took her to London with me? I could set her up in a house, and she could be my—”

  “No.”

  “Why not? There are worse fates than being mistress to an earl.”

  “You expect she’d agree to such an immoral situation? That she’d subject her young sisters to it?”

  “She might,” Nicholas persisted, even though he knew she never would.

  “She’s in love with you! She’s convinced you’re about to propose marriage. You mentioned that she thinks you’re wonderful. What will her opinion be after you make another sort of proposal entirely?”

  “It could happen. You’d be surprised how easily I can persuade a woman.”

  “No I wouldn’t. I know you, remember? What about Veronica? You’re about to marry her. If you hook up with a mistress right before the wedding, she’ll find out. Wives always do. What would you guess her opinion will be?”

  “My personal life will never be any of her business.”

  Stephen barked out a laugh. “If that’s what you assume, then you’re an idiot.” He stood and went the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sick of you. I want to be out of your sight.”

  “Well, I’m not too thrilled with you, either. Get out before I throw you out.”

  “I’m not returning to London with you.”

  “You’ve already told me so a dozen times.”

  “And I’m not returning to the army.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve written some letters. I’m trying to muster out early, so Annie can come to England later in the summer.”

  Nicholas had constantly been vexed by Stephen’s attachment to his daughter. He barely knew the girl and hadn’t lived with her but for a few months when she was a baby. What had caused such a strong bond?

  Nor could he fathom Stephen’s desire to settle at Stafford. Why would he?

  “You’re bringing Annie here?” Nicholas sneered, terribly hurt by Stephen’s decision and covering it with spite. “It will finally be just the two of you, the happy little family you’ve always craved.”

  “Yes, my happy little family.” Stephen opened the door. “I’ll give you ’til nine o’clock tomorrow morning. If you haven’t departed by then, Miss Wilson and I will have a long, interesting chat.”

  Stephen walked out, and Nicholas tarried in the quiet, pondering, reviewing his options, finishing his drink. Then he stormed to the barn, saddled his fastest horse, and rode off into the waning afternoon.

  Benedict dawdled in the foyer, observing as the earl slammed the library door, then he tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear to the wood.

  He’d had it with the Price brothers and wanted them gone. They couldn’t head for London quick enough to suit him.

  He’d made the tough choices on Lord Stafford’s behalf. He’d done all the dirty work, and now—thanks to Emeline’s interference—the earl was unraveling many of Benedict’s best ideas.

  He was in a temper and had to figure out how to wean the earl away from Emeline’s destructive influence. Hopefully, a bit of eavesdropping would provide some clues as to how Benedict should proceed.

  The two brothers were silent, one of them stomping around then, to Benedict’s eternal astonishment, the conversation began and the immediate topic was Emeline.

  You might as well confess, Mr. Price demanded, and don’t lie to me.

  I wouldn’t dream of it, the earl snidely replied.

  What have you done?

  I’ve started an affair.

  Have you deflowered her, you wretch?

  A gentleman should never kiss and tell.

  Benedict staggered away, hurrying down the deserted corridors until he lurched into an empty parlor. Panting with shock, he leaned against the wall to steady himself.

  Widow Brookhurst’s suspicions had been correct: Emeline was a whore, swayed to harlotry by the worst scoundrel in England!

  Benedict had previously tendered a decent, honest marriage proposal to Emeline, but for the price of a few dresses, she’d rather prostitute herself to Nicholas Price.

  The news was murderously offensive and beyond his comprehension.

  He didn’t know how he would use the information—the vicar certainly had to be apprised—but he would exploit it to her detriment. He would bide his time, he would watch and wait.

  Nicholas Price wouldn’t be at Stafford forever. He would leave very soon. Perhaps by tomorrow or the next day. Once he was gone, Emeline’s fate would be sealed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What will happen to us?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure it will be something grand.”

  Emeline tucked the blanket over Nan, then turned to the other bed and did the same for Nell.

  “You received a letter today,” Nell said.

  “How would you know that, you little scamp?”

  “We were spying on Mr. Jenkins,” she admitted, unabashed. “Who was it from? Was it from another school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it good news?”

  “Not this time. They’ve hired someone else, but I’m certain a positive response will arrive very soon.”

  She kept her smile firmly fixed so the twins wouldn’t note her anxiety. She’d applied for dozens of jobs, but she had no experience and two sisters to bring along to any situation. Employers weren’t eager to retain people with such large burdens.r />
  She was waiting for one last reply, but she wasn’t optimistic.

  “What about Lord Stafford?” Nan asked. “Why won’t he let you start the school here? He seems so nice. I don’t understand why he won’t agree.”

  “He’s still considering it,” Emeline lied.

  “Guess what we think,” Nell said, and they both giggled.

  “What?” Emeline inquired.

  “You and the earl should get married.”

  “Get married!”

  “If you were his wife, it would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?”

  “We’re not marrying, so you can shove that silly notion out of your busy heads.”

  “You like him,” Nan pointed out, “and we like him, too.”

  “And we can tell he likes you,” Nell added.

  “We’re friends,” Emeline sternly insisted, “and I work for him. There’s no more to it than that, and you shouldn’t expect there might be.”

  “If you say so.” Nan’s comment set off a second round of giggles.

  “I do say so, and I won’t have the two of you talking about this. If any of the servants heard you, I’d be extremely embarrassed.”

  The last thing she needed was her sisters constructing a fairytale. She’d given Nicholas plenty of chances to answer Nan’s original question—What will happen to us?—but he wasn’t inclined to make a decision. Then again, he hadn’t tossed them out, either.

  It was a frustrating limbo, and she’d been annoyingly timid about pushing him for a resolution. Life in the manor was so easy, and she’d quickly acclimated. She didn’t want her circumstances to change, for it would mean he was tired of her. If she lost his favor, he would put her aside and move on, and she’d never be with him again.

  “Sleep now,” she murmured.

  She blew out the candle and proceeded to her room. She walked slowly, wondering if she might bump into him on the stairs, but she didn’t.

  Since their afternoon visiting, she hadn’t seen him. A servant had mentioned that he’d ridden off on his horse, but Emeline couldn’t pry as to why he’d left or where he’d gone. She could only wait for him to return.

  Dawdling, she prepared for bed, washing up, brushing her hair, dressing in the robe he’d bought her. She went to the window seat and snuggled on the cushion. She stared out across the park, praying the roads would convey him home safely.

  An eternity passed before boot steps sounded off in the distance. She sagged with relief and pressed her fingers to the cool glass of the window. Peering out at the stars, she whispered frantic wishes: that he was hale and unharmed, that he wouldn’t hurt her when their affair was concluded, that she would survive in the world as it would be after he departed forever.

  He came closer and closer, and with each stride, her fears lessened. Why had she so calmly accepted that there was no future for them?

  She was an optimist who tackled problems and vowed to fix them. Why was she so willing to concede a bad end? Why should she automatically assume that they would separate?

  Yes, he was an earl and far above her in station, but he hadn’t always been. Until the prior year, he’d been an orphan whose sole prospect was his rank in the army. A stroke of fate had elevated him, but deep inside, he was an ordinary man.

  They could wed. They could build a life together at Stafford.

  Suddenly, her pulse was racing with excitement, and she told herself that she would do whatever he asked to bring about the finale she craved.

  He stopped at her door but didn’t enter. For the longest while, he hovered in the hall, as if debating whether to come in. He tarried until she grew afraid that he’d keep on, so she clambered to the floor, hurried over, and spun the knob herself.

  They gazed at each other, not speaking, a thousand words swirling between them that couldn’t be voiced aloud. His color was high, his hair tousled by the wind. Masculine smells of horses and cold night air wafted from his clothes.

  There was a bleakness in his eyes that made them especially blue. The cocky, conceited soldier had vanished, replaced by a troubled, weary soul.

  “Are you all right?” she queried.

  Nodding, he stepped into the room and enfolded her in his arms. He crushed her to his chest, holding her as if he might never release her.

  “I missed you,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “When I learned that you’d left the estate, that you were riding around in the dark, I was so worried.”

  “You should never fret about me. I’m always fine. I always land on my feet.”

  He drew away and took her hands in his. They stood, swaying, like besotted adolescents.

  “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just have a lot on my mind. I had to clear it.”

  “Have you cleared it?”

  “More or less.”

  “Tell me what vexes you. Maybe I can help.”

  “You vex me.”

  “I hope in a good way?”

  “Yes, in a very good way.”

  He shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on a nearby chair, then he walked to her bedchamber, leading her behind him. He lay down on the bed and stretched out, and he pulled her down with him. She nestled at his side as he studied the ceiling, lost in thought.

  His distress was palpable, but he didn’t seem able to discuss what was bothering him. Apparently, she would have to begin any conversation.

  “What are you thinking about?” she inquired.

  “You.”

  She propped herself up on an elbow. “What about me?”

  He traced a finger across her bottom lip. “I’m glad we met.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’ll always be glad.”

  “I will be, too.”

  His tone had her heart racing again, but not with elation. He was assessing her as if memorizing her features, as if cataloguing them for later reflection.

  “I have to return to London soon,” he told her.

  “Why?”

  “I never intended to be here this long. I’m due back with my regiment.”

  “Will you travel to Stafford occasionally in the future?”

  There was a lengthy pause, then he said, “I will as often as I can.”

  “Will we still be”—she struggled to find the correct word—“friends?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What about me and my sisters? What will become of us?”

  Another protracted pause ensued, and ultimately, he asked, “Would you ever consider coming to London with me?”

  “To London?” She laughed and shook her head. “No. Why couldn’t you stay at Stafford with me?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s very, very simple.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “When you first arrived at the estate, you had misgivings, but they’re fading. You’re changing; you’re starting to enjoy your ownership.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “I don’t want you to go away.” She tossed the dice, risking all. “I want you to remain here. With me.”

  “You’d like that, would you?”

  “You would, too. Please don’t deny it. You’ve never had a home of your own. This could be your home. We could marry, we could be so happy.”

  He chuckled but sadly. “You have such a high opinion of me.”

  “You deserve it! You’re wonderful, but you spend all your time trying to be awful. I see the special man hiding beneath all the bluster. You could be that man for me. I know you could.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy. You could muster out of the army. You could come home. To Stafford. To me.”

  “What would I do with you?” He smiled. “I’m not used to living around a female. You’d drive me insane with all your chatter.”

  “You like me a tad more than you care to admit.”


  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You could be right about that.”

  “Is it because you’re an earl now? Is that it? You’re too far above me?”

  “Gad, no. You’re very fine, too fine for the likes of me.”

  She received some solace from the compliment. “Then what is it? Why are you so disconcerted?”

  “I shouldn’t have visited you tonight, but I couldn’t keep myself away.”

  “Of course, you should have visited. If you don’t belong here with me, where do you belong?”

  He stared and stared, and she thought he might confide in her, but instead, he kissed her. He rolled her onto her back, his heavy body pressing her into the mattress. She pulled him closer, but she couldn’t get him near enough.

  She wanted to be so securely connected that there would be no distance between them, that they would be one person rather than two, but she had no idea how to accomplish it.

  He seemed to be on a frantic quest, as well. There was an air of desperation about him, as if he were drowning and in need of her rescue. She would gladly save him; she just didn’t understand the dangers so she couldn’t devise the best method.

  He fumbled with the belt on her robe, and very quickly, she was naked. She didn’t try to stop him, didn’t complain or demur. There was such joy in pleasing him.

  His fingers were busy, and swiftly, she was titillated to the point of madness. But this time, she yearned for more from him than he’d given her previously.

  “I love you.” She hadn’t meant for the declaration to slip out, but she couldn’t hold it in.

  “You shouldn’t tell me that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. You know it is.” He was nibbling at her breast, and she dragged him to her so that he had to look her in the eye. “Have you ever been loved, Nicholas?”

  “No, never.”

  “Then let me be the one.”

  He sighed. “You shouldn’t have these strong feelings. Believe me. I’m not worth it.”

  “Yes, you are! How can I convince you?”

  “I’m not who you presume I am.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “What do you know about anything? You’re a man, so you’re a fool.”