A Matter of Principle

by Kris Tualla

  “Oh, but is it. We have undoubtedly forgotten something. This way, you may see to your own needs in a manner that suits you.” Nicolas grabbed Jaqriel’s hand and pressed the coins into it.

  “Housekeeping? I don’t understand, sir.” Sarah’s caramel brow creased in confusion.

  Jaqriel took both horses’ reins. “Perhaps it’s best to show you. Come with me, Sarah.”

  Sydney and Nicolas followed the couple, their hands clasped and bodies closely aligned.

  One of the two storerooms in the stable had been cleared out to house the couple. Nicolas and Jaqriel laid a wood floor on a platform over the dirt. In one corner of the twelve-by-twelve room, Nicolas installed a cast-iron Franklin stove. Jaqriel built a bed over a bank of drawers, like the ones that Nicolas described in ships’ cabins. There was a table with two chairs, and shelves with a few dishes; two pots and a pan hung from hooks below them. Sydney had added a wool Turkish rug, featherbed, sheets and pillows.

  “I apologize about there being no window, as yet. Jack will cut one through the stone, once we decide where and how big. He felt you might want to have a say,” Nicolas said.

  Sarah frowned and shook her head. “Who is to live here?”

  “We are,” Jaqriel answered. “This is our home.”

  Sarah sank into one of the chairs and stared at Nicolas in disbelief. “And we are to work, of course. What are our tasks?”

  “Since our former maid chose to remain in Norway earlier this year, you’ll assist Anne in the running of the house.”

  Sarah looked as though she might swoon.

  “Come, husband. Let’s give them some privacy, shall we?” Sydney pulled Nicolas from the remade room and closed the door. “I desire some privacy as well,” she murmured.

  “Madam, are you suggesting—?”

  Sydney smiled. “And if I was?”

  “The children?”

  “Stefan and Leif are at school. Kirstie is napping. We have an hour to ourselves.”

  

  Nicolas rolled onto his back with a long groan of satisfaction. Sydney could not have moved at that moment, even if the bed were in flames.

  “You were only gone four nights,” she whispered. “That felt like the first time in a month!”

  “I did spend time with Rosie to find Sarah, you realize. And I slept one night in a brothel.” Nicolas rubbed his face hard. “I burned for you, then.”

  Sydney flopped the back of one hand onto his chest. “And I’m now well-assured that you didn’t dally with either!”

  Nicolas faced her, his long, blond hair in disarray, blue eyes glowing in the afternoon light. Desire still showed in his gaze.

  “None but you, min presang. Ever.” His lips curled, showing straight white teeth. “But I do recommend a substantial supper. You’ll need your strength later.”

  Sydney rolled on her side and ran her hand over Nicolas’s body. Firmly muscled, it was furred with blond curls that darkened to a line low on his flat belly. A clump of brown fuzz surrounded his manhood and covered the heavy balls behind it. He stirred at her touch.

  “Careful,” he warned. “I may not wish to wait until nightfall.”

  Sydney climbed on top of him. His chest hair tickled her breasts and she felt him hardening between her thighs. She lifted her lips to his. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and taking her mouth with his. She adjusted the position of her hips.

  A fussy cry from the next room doused their ardor with icy water.

  Sydney pulled her mouth from Nicolas’s. “Kirstie’s awake,” she mumbled.

  “Skitt,” Nicolas closed his eyes. “Tell me again why we have this child?”

  “Because you could never keep your hands off me!” Sydney laughed and pulled her shift on over her head. “And,” she retrieved the green dress from the floor, “you are so virile that your seed planted swiftly!”

  “Ah, yes. I knew it was something such as that!” Nicolas teased back.

  Sydney leaned over him and kissed him slowly, softly, longingly.

  “Tonight,” she whispered before disappearing through the nursery door.

  

  Supper that evening was served buffet style, as all the residents of the estate were invited to eat together in celebration. Addie Spencer, the Hansen’s retired housekeeper, helped her young replacement, Anehka McCain, prepare the food. Called Anne by the household, the dark beauty was born of a French trader and his Sauk Indian wife twenty-one years earlier.

  Leif, Nicolas’s thirteen-year-old orphaned cousin from Norway, carried Kirstie on his hip. Eight-year-old Stefan kept moving, trying to avoid being given a task.

  Sarah came up to the house and joined in the meal’s preparations without needing to be asked. Addie’s husband, John, helped Nicolas set up trestles for the bodies that wouldn’t fit at the formal dining room table. Anne’s husband Jeremy—Nicolas’s new foreman since John retired—came through the kitchen’s back door with Jaqriel, their faces and hands dripping. Jeremy grabbed a towel for each of them.

  “The animals are bedded down for the night,” Jeremy stated. “And we’re starving!”

  Sydney stood at the head of the dining table next to Nicolas, his hand in hers, and surveyed the oddly diverse group. This household was so different from when she arrived two-and-a-half years ago.

  “I’ll ask the blessing now,” Nicolas volunteered. Hands clasped around the table and heads bowed as his bass voice filled the crowded room.

  “Father in Heaven, thank You for allowing Sarah and Jack to be reunited. Bless this food that we are about to receive, and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen.” Sydney crossed herself.

  A chorus of amens preceded the rush for victuals. Sydney and Nicolas stepped back to allow their charges a chance to eat first. She smiled at the group of erstwhile strangers, now bonded under the Hansen roof. But when she looked up at her husband, her smile faded.

  Nicolas was pale, and his cheeks sunk above a jutting jaw.

  “Nicolas?” she whispered.

  His eyes, dark and dilated, dropped to hers.

  “Are you unwell?” she pressed.

  “No. I need some air is all.” He spun on his heel and disappeared into the hallway.

  Sydney followed. “Nicolas, talk to me.”

  He stopped before he reached the front door. He faced her, his forced smile stiff.

  “I’m fine, Sydney. Don’t worry about me. Go back and see to supper, will you?”

  “Are you certain?” Sydney felt his cheek.

  Nicolas grasped her hand and kissed her palm. “I am. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” Nicolas traced a finger over his chest.

  “All right then,” Sydney acquiesced, against her better judgment.

  “Save me some food!” Nicolas winked at her and stepped outside.

  

  Sydney sat in bed, propped against pillows, and watched Nicolas unpack and hang up his clothing. She had postponed telling him about Lily as long as she dared.

  “We have a supper engagement tomorrow evening at Rickard’s.”

  “Oh? To celebrate the birth of their daughter?” Nicolas frowned at his waistcoat, then draped it over a chair. “That needs cleaning.”

  “Brace yourself.”

  Nicolas turned to face her, breeches over his arm and eyebrows raised in question. “What’s amiss?”

  “Lily’s back.”

  Nicolas stared at her for a moment, then went wordlessly back to his task.

  “She’s married, Nicolas.”

  “Hmph.”

  “She says he’s quite wealthy.”

  “Now there’s a surprise,” Nicolas said sarcastically. He sighed. “I suppose we must go. As much as I don’t wish to see that woman ever again, I can’t abandon Rick to deal with her alone.”

  “Or poor Bronnie.”

  “The hell-fire sister and the determined wife in one house? I’m sur
prised Rick isn’t sleeping down our hall, new baby or no!” Nicolas scoffed.

  Sydney leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. “She called the estate ‘hers’ and says she owns half now that their mother has passed.”

  Nicolas stopped and looked at Sydney as though seeing her clearly for the first time. “That’s why.”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why she’s here. To claim half of the estate!” Nicolas put the breeches away and reached into his satchel.

  Sydney’s eyes rounded, horrified. “She’ll ruin Rickard!”

  Nicolas nodded grimly. “That she might. I suppose we’ll be enlightened tomorrow at dinner, eh?” He dropped a bundle of papers in front of Sydney.

  “What’s this?” She leaned forward and tugged the bundle onto her lap.

  “Newspapers from St. Louis and St. Charles. I thought you might like to see what’s happening in the world outside of Cheltenham.”

  “Oh! Thank you!” Sydney smiled at her husband. “That’s so thoughtful!”

  “And when you’ve done with them, I’ll give them to Rickard.” Nicolas stuffed his empty satchel into the bottom of his wardrobe.

  Sydney glanced at each issue of the St. Louis Enquirer and the St. Charles Missourian. “There’s a good week’s worth of reading here!”

  Nicolas crawled across the bed on his hands and knees until he could whisper in Sydney’s ear, “Tonight?”

  “Are you feeling better, now?” Sydney hugged the papers to her chest.

  “I’m fine, min presang. All I need is to be close to you.”

  He kissed her earlobe. “To be naked with you.”

  He kissed her cheek. “To be so deep inside of you, that I completely lose myself.”

  His lips pulled hers in. Sydney lifted his shirt and lightly scratched his skin with her nails, raising gooseflesh. Nicolas tugged her nightgown above her waist. Slipping his hand up her leg. he began to love her with his tender and skillful touch. Moaning into his mouth, Sydney laid back and opened her thighs.

  The papers slid, forgotten, to the floor.

  October 24, 1821

  Cheltenham

  Sydney’s tight grasp on his arm betrayed her unease as they climbed the Atherton’s front steps. If asked, Nicolas would have confessed to the same. The last time they saw Lily, she was slinking out of Cheltenham in disgrace.

  The younger sister of his deceased first wife, Lily had designs on being Nicolas’s second wife. Her machinations toward that end nearly did him in, and he had not truly forgiven her. If her brother Rickard was not his oldest and closest friend, he would not be knocking on this door this evening.

  “Nick!” Rickard threw the portal as wide as his grin. “And Sydney! You are looking as lovely as ever!” Rickard kissed her hand and slapped Nicolas on the shoulder. “It’s been far too long.”

  “How are you faring, brother?” Nicolas considered his friend.

  Rickard shrugged. “And this, too, shall pass.”

  Bronwyn Atherton descended the stairs, her arms empty. “Welcome, dear friends!”

  “And where is Glynnis?” Sydney demanded.

  “I only just fed her.” Bronwyn gestured up the stairs. “She’s sleeping.”

  “I am perfectly capable of fawning over a slumbering babe!” Sydney laughed, climbing the steps.

  Envious that Sydney had found a way to delay the inevitable, Nicolas draped his arm over Rickard’s shoulder. “And how is fatherhood?”

  Rickard pulled his longing gaze from Bronwyn’s swaying backside to Nicolas’s steady visage. “It feels like living in a monastery,” he answered. “With naked nuns.”

  Nicolas’s explosive laugh caused Sydney to shoot him a puzzled look over her shoulder.

  “It’s only six weeks. You’ll survive. I did.”

  “Ha! Of all men, if you could last it through, then I suppose anyone could!” Rickard elbowed his friend.

  “Nicolas!” Lily’s unmistakable trill splattershot through his gut. Nicolas turned, determinedly steeled against his anger.

  “How wonderful it is to see you again!” Lily stood on tiptoes and kissed Nicolas chastely on the cheek. “May I present my husband, Sir Ezra Warpold Kensington?”

  Nicolas bit the inside of his cheek to hold his reaction in check. The man must be in his late fifties, if he was a day. Lily was twenty-five.

  “Sir Kensington, my pleasure.” Nicolas bowed at the waist.

  “Please, call me Ezra.” A soft, wrinkled hand extended from his frockcoat, a finely tailored affair of pale green silk. “I have heard much about you, Mister Hansen.”

  “Please, call me Nicolas.”

  Ezra dipped his head in acknowledgement. “And your wife?”

  “Upstairs admiring the distaff Atherton heir.”

  “Ah, yes.” Ezra’s eyes darted to Lily’s with an odd glint. “Of course.”

  “Might I offer anyone a brandy?” Rickard guided the guests to the drawing room.

  “Thank you, Rickard.” Ezra sat on the brocade settle.

  “Nicolas, might I have a word with you in private?” Lily smiled ever so beguilingly.

  “Now?” Nicolas frowned. “Why?”

  “If you please?”

  Nicolas clenched his jaw and tried to think of a reason to decline. But Rickard gestured toward his study. “You may speak in there, if you like.” He returned his attention to meticulously pouring the brandies.

  Lily flashed another smile and twirled hard enough to make her skirts dance around her ankles. She sashayed across the hall to the study. Nicolas drew a steadying breath, and walked stiffly after her.

  Once in the study, Lily closed the door and faced Nicolas. “Are you happy, Nick?”

  He did not smile. Nor did he hesitate. “Very.”

  “That’s good to hear. And Sydney? She is happy with you as well?” Lily stepped closer.

  “Yes,” he hissed. What was her game this time?

  “So you have all that you want?” She rested her hand on his chest.

  Nicolas did not react to her touch. He glared down at her, barely resisting the urge to slap her hand away. Or to simply slap her.

  “Lily, what’s your point?”

  “Everyone should have what they want, isn’t that so?”

  Nicolas narrowed his eyes, sensing her trap. “What do you want?”

  “Only what’s rightfully mine.” She trailed her hand down his chest to his waist. He grabbed her hand before it went any lower. Enough was enough.

  “I am not rightfully yours, Lily.”

  “No? That might be debated. But half of this estate most assuredly is.” She flipped her hand from Nicolas’s grasp and turned her back on him. “You need to remind Rickard of that fact.”

  “Why?” Nicolas blurted, incredulous.

  “Because!” Lily presented her perfect profile. “You’re his best friend. You can talk sense into him.”

  Nicolas snorted. “Lily, if you take half of this estate, you’ll ruin him.”

  Lily spun around and leaned against Nicolas, her expression of concern perfect yet unconvincing. “Do you truly think so?”

  “Yes! I know so!”

  Lily pushed against his chest, but not hard enough to create space between them. “Well, I don’t!” Seamlessly, she slipped her arm through his and turned toward the door. “Enough about that. Will you escort me to dinner?”

  Nicolas clenched his jaw and did not jerk his arm from Lily’s grasp, though that was his first impulse. As they stepped from the study, Lily’s sudden laughter rang through the hall like dozens of tiny silver bells. Sydney stopped as she and Bronnie made their way down the staircase, and stared at Nicolas. He pulled his arm from Lily’s grasp and held his hand out to his wife, desperate for her to take it without comment.

  Lily shot Sydney a victorious grin, then slid her best seductive gaze back to Nicolas.

  “Dinner should be ready by now.” Bronnie’s tone was overly-bright. She stepped past Sydney. “Let’s make our
way to the dining room, shall we? Rickard!”

  Rickard’s head appeared in the drawing room doorway. “Yes?”

  Bronnie took his arm. “Will you lead our guests to dinner?”

  Chapter Four

  “Mister Kensington, how did you and Lily meet?” Sydney asked once the food was served. She had determined to be polite to Lily and spare Nicolas, Rickard and Bronnie an uncomfortable evening—as far as it was in her ability to do so.

  “Well, now that’s an interesting story,” Lily interjected. “Would you like to tell it, or shall I, Ezzy?”

  One veined hand appeared and rested over hers. “You, darling. That way, I may enjoy the delightful sound of your voice, not the grunts and rasps of my own.” Ezra lifted Lily’s palm to his smiling lips.

  Lily’s chin dipped and her lashes fluttered. “You are so sweet.” She patted his cheek and then launched into her tale.

  It seems that Lord Ezra liked to bet on horses. Lily’s cousin had taken her to watch the races and their box was adjoined to his. Conversation sprung up and, before she knew it, she and Ezra were on their way to dinner.

  “He invited me out several times after that. In no time, we were the envy of all of Raleigh,” Lily gloated. “Then he asked me to marry him!”

  Lily waved her enormous diamond and emerald ring, in the chance that someone in the room might have missed that sparkling planet. Under the table, Sydney twirled her much smaller gold filigree and garnet wedding ring.

  “Was it a nice wedding?” Sydney asked. She caught Nicolas’s surprised consideration. She shrugged a little.

  “More than nice! It was amazing! Definitely the social event of the season, wouldn’t you say so, Ezzy, darling?” Lily smiled at the older man.

  Ezra Kensington nodded, making eye contact with Nicolas and Rickard. “It was that. Lily is quite the planner. Of course—” he winked at the men “—our wedding night was rather spectacular as well, wasn’t it, Sweetest?”

  Stunned by the ribald reference, Sydney’s eyes dropped to her plate. She shifted her gaze to Nicolas across the table, and saw his suspicious countenance.