Nicholas: Lord of Secrets ll-2

by Grace Burrowes

  “You loved your older brother.”

  Nick scowled mightily. “Still do.” And nearly hated him too, sometimes.

  “So what happened?” Val prodded, reaching for the teapot.

  “An accident.” Nick tossed his tea back and appropriated the teapot before Val could pour himself a cup. “Bellefonte was in the habit of branding his saddles and harness and such with an H—for Haddonfield—and we thought we’d do the same with our boots, clever lads that we were. The brand landed on my backside by inadvertence, and Bellefonte decided Ethan had done it apurpose. Before that…”

  Nick poured a second cup, stirred in more sugar, then more cream.

  He stared at his tea. “Before that we were brothers and best friends. After Bellefonte tore into Ethan in front of me that day, we became the bastard and the heir. He sent us to separate public schools. He no longer permitted Ethan to spend holidays and summers with us. He sent Ethan to Cambridge while I went to Oxford.”

  Valentine considered the teapot at Nick’s elbow. “Over a stupid accident? That doesn’t sound like your father.”

  Nick’s smile was sad. “You know Bellefonte as a dear old fellow. Twenty years ago, he was up to his ears in children and responsibilities, and he was a regular Tartar. Grandmother sneaked a few letters for us, but Ethan and I could not sustain a bond. After a time, I told myself it was for the best. I imagine Ethan has done the same.”

  “How could losing a brother and a best friend be for the best?” Valentine had lost two brothers, one to war, one to consumption. Nick knew the question was sincere and… difficult.

  “I have three other brothers, and four sisters, and until my father sent Ethan away, I could barely have told you their names. Ethan and I were that close. As the heir, I needed to know my entire family, not just my favorite brother. Then too, Ethan needed to make his way, not spend his entire life protecting me and being my… companion.”

  “I don’t know, Nicholas.” Val made another try for the teapot, and this time poured himself a cup immediately. “Devlin was raised with us, at least from the age of five on. Their Graces love him as if he were one of their legitimate sons. They saw to it he had the best of everything, and bought him his colors when Bart joined up, no questions asked. But he still felt second-rate, as if he were on probation…”

  Val stopped and glared at his tea.

  Rather than allow him to maunder on, Nick took pity on his friend. “Your point?”

  “Your father isn’t solely responsible for the fact that you and Ethan haven’t made much progress recovering your friendship,” Val said. “Devlin was stuck, thinking himself unnecessary to us, when he could not have been more wrong.”

  “But my family is not the Windhams,” Nick said. “We have no duchess humanizing us, no matriarch to smooth over Bellefonte’s many rough edges. Ethan is not necessary to us—he will not allow himself to be—and I’m not sure there is an us.”

  Val smiled, a sweet smile the ladies found irresistible. “You are ridiculous. The Haddonfields sport a great deal of ‘us.’ Beckman has followed you all over southern England. George and Dolph can’t get a grade on an exam without you knowing about it. Your grandmother knows before your head hits the pillow exactly how many dances you stood up for and with whom. You remember every sister’s birthday, and her favorite flowers and colors. What is Beckman up to, by the way?”

  Nick scowled at his plate, from which a significant portion of eggs and toast had disappeared, Nick knew not how. “Still rusticating. The earl sent him down to Portsmouth to look in on Three Springs for Grandmother. I don’t think he’s in any hurry to take up Town life, and I can give him one of my estates in Kent when I’m forced to reside at Belle Maison.”

  But not both estates. Beckman could have Clover Down. Title to Blossom Court would always remain in Nick’s hands, no matter what.

  “You’re frowning again,” Val said. “I hadn’t taken you for such an introspective fellow.”

  “Must be the full moon. You up for a trip to Kent?”

  “Of course, if there’s a piano to be played along the way.”

  “I’ll send the requisite notes to my staff.” Nick felt a lift to his mood at the prospect of leaving London. “And ring for more tea, would you? Somebody drank the entire damned pot while you were picking my feeble brains.”

  * * *

  Leah did not hurry toward the park, but oh, Lord, she wanted to. She’d tossed away half the night, thinking she should send Reston a note telling him to leave her in peace. Or a note telling him today did not suit, or a note telling him…

  Sending notes safely was no more possible now in Wilton House than it had been eight years ago, so she was going to wave him off in person. Emily didn’t want to marry the man, and Leah had to admit the girl had a point. Reston was the largest specimen of humanity Leah had ever seen; he had muscles on top of muscles, and such tremendous height. For the first time, it occurred to her that not just her father’s servants, but anybody in the park would know she’d met with Reston. Between his height, his golden hair, and his gentleman’s manners, he was that distinctive.

  Gads. What had she been thinking?

  “Good morning.” Reston’s pleasant baritone sounded to her left when she’d been on the bench beside the pond for only a few minutes. “Lady Leah? Yes, it is you. We met earlier this week, I believe, along with your dear sister, Lady Emily. May I join you?”

  Leah nodded and found herself once again sitting beside the compilation of muscle, charm, and masculine appeal that was Viscount Reston.

  “I sent my footman off to purchase some bread for the ducks,” Leah said, her tone clipped. “We haven’t privacy for long.”

  “Then I will reserve the flirtation and flattery for later. Has Hellerington called upon Wilton yet?”

  “He has an appointment Friday next,” Leah said, hating the catch in her voice and the truth of her words.

  Reston stretched out long, long legs, all nonchalance and polished riding boots. “Not until then? That is all the time in the world. I might be calling on your papa by then myself.”

  Leah closed her eyes, the lovely day and the handsome man at such variance with the topic under discussion as to make her queasy. “My lord, I am going to ask you again to desist from this course. Hellerington is devious and determined, as is the earl. They can lock me away without a word to anybody, and Wilton has threatened as much in the past.”

  “Was that before or after he killed your fiancé in cold blood?” Reston inquired, keeping his eyes trained on the ducks, his hands propped on the golden head of his walking stick.

  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.

  Three

  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?”