“One could say my habits could scarcely be worse than they are now.” Frederick puffed at his cigar and blew a perfect ring of blue smoke into the air.
“One could definitely say that if one was of a particularly narrow-minded nature.”
Those not bothered with such a nature would note only that Lord Thornecroft was a wealthy, unmarried gentleman with a taste for fine wine and good cigars and lovely ladies.
“Perhaps it’s the young lady who should be warned.”
“Perhaps.” Nick grinned.
They could well joke about Frederick’s amusements and how the rest of the world might view them, but he had been as responsible and good a parent as anyone could ever ask. From the day Nick had walked into his life, Frederick had been more father than uncle to the boy.
“I do regret leaving you alone, you know, but it’s your own fault. You should have family around you, children of your own, a loving wife.”
Frederick chuckled. “I don’t think this particular lady is overly interested in marriage and family.”
“Probably not.” Nick paused to choose his words with care. He was to leave tomorrow, and in spite of the thirteen years spent living with this kind and warm-spirited gentleman, a man who had very much taken the place of his father and done so with grace and affection, there were still things left unsaid between them.
“Why did you never marry?” Nick’s tone was casual, as if neither the question nor the answer was of any significance.
Frederick’s voice was as unconcerned as the younger man’s. “Marriage has never especially appealed to me. Shackling yourself to one woman for life and all that. Never found the right woman worth sacrificing my freedom for, I suppose.”
“Except my mother,” Nick said quietly.
Frederick’s brow rose slightly in surprise. “You know about that, do you?”
Nick nodded. He’d known for years the story of how his mother had been betrothed to his uncle but had instead run off with his uncle’s younger brother. Frederick had never said a word, nor had he ever said anything implying that either Nick’s father or mother were anything other than honorable. Indeed, given his uncle’s obvious affection toward his parents, learning the truth had come as something of a shock for Nick.
“I forgave them, you know. Rather quickly, if I recall. There was no need for them to leave England. Certainly, I was angry at the time. It’s bloody hard to be tossed aside for your younger brother. But I cared too much for your mother not to want to see her happy, and I dearly loved your father. I realized they were meant for one another, and she would not have been truly content with me. I wonder, even now, if I would have been happy with her as well. Our marriage might well have been an enormous mistake for all three of us. Regardless…”
He heaved a sigh at the memories. “I wrote to him, to them, over and over urging them to return home, but your father had that damnable notion of making his fortune in his head and refused to so much as consider giving it up. He was always certain the next venture, the next speculation, the next investment would be the right one. He and your mother were as stubborn as their son.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Nicholas said with a wry smile.
“I had enough then to take care of us all, as I have enough now to take care of you.”
“Uncle.” A warning sounded in Nicholas’s voice.
“Damn it all, boy.” A scowl furrowed Frederick’s forehead, and he studied his nephew. “I thought traveling the world would settle you down. Make you see that your duty and responsibility lie here in England. Indeed, I thought I had fairly well convinced you somewhere along Calcutta, I think, or perhaps it was in Cairo, to abandon this whole idea.”
“It was Casablanca, Uncle,” Nick said mildly. “And it was a momentary aberration. I decided upon this course for my life years ago.”
“Still, when we returned to London, I was confident you had decided to stay. Yet in the months since our return…” Frederick paused and stared for a long moment.
“Yes?” Nick turned toward his uncle. He knew that look and was not particularly fond of it.
Frederick shook his head, his words slow and measured. “I simply find the method in which history chooses to repeat itself exceedingly odd.”
Nick raised a brow. “You expect me to fail then? As my father did?”
“On the contrary.” Frederick’s gaze was steady and level, as if he could see right through his nephew. Knew, in fact, his very thoughts. “I expect you to own the world by the time you return.”
“Fine words, Uncle, but I recognize the look in your eye. You have come to some sort of realization.”
“Sometimes one fails to see what is right under one’s very nose,” Frederick murmured.
“Sometimes one’s elders are as obtuse as a stone.” Nick’s tone was sharp, and he adopted a lighter note. “Come now, what are you thinking?”
Frederick flicked an ash at the saucer provided for that purpose, ignoring the fact that he missed it entirely, then narrowed his eyes and gazed at the younger man. “Your father left England to seek his fortune.”
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “As I am doing.”
“And failed.”
“As I shall not.” Nick’s voice was as firm as his conviction. “You shall not see a repeat of history in that respect.”
“James left as much because of a woman, your mother, as any desire to make his own way in the world.”
“There you have it, Uncle.” Unease twisted Nick’s stomach, belying the cool smile he forced to his face. “I am not repeating my father’s history, as I am not running off with my brother’s fiancée. Although, I confess, I too have an actress…”
Frederick gazed at him silently.
“Very well, then.” Nick rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s most distressing to admit, but there is no lady in my life at the moment. None whatsoever.”
“I know you better than anyone in this world, and I daresay no one else has noticed, but I have seen the way you look at her,” Frederick said quietly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nick met his uncle’s gaze directly. “Or whom you’re referring to.”
“You do not lie well, boy.” Frederick chuckled. “You have never been able to lie to me.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment. Frederick was right. Even when Nick had been a child, the older man had seen right through whatever tale the boy had concocted. And when his uncle’s knowing brown eyes had fastened on Nick then, as they did now, confession had poured from his very soul.
“If you’re speaking of Elizabeth Effington, I look at her the way any man looks at a beautiful woman.” Nick turned to peruse a shelf of books and clasped his hand behind his back. “It scarcely matters. She is to marry my best friend.”
“They are not betrothed.”
“Yet.” Nick shrugged. “They will be. Before this Christmas has passed, Charles has vowed to ask for her hand.”
“I wondered why you were so intent upon leaving before Christmas.”
“It seems best.” Nick glanced at his uncle over his shoulder. “I will confess, I am intrigued by her, even enchanted. But each minute spent in her presence is a temptation I am hard-pressed to resist. The best way to deal with temptation is to remove it—or, in this instance, remove myself from the temptation.”
Frederick considered him in silence.
“You needn’t stare at me like that, Uncle. Elizabeth is a charming, lovely creature. You cannot fault me for wanting her. But Charles is my closest friend, and she…” Frustration surged through him, and he laughed it away. “This is what was meant to be. For as long as I’ve known him, Charles has planned to wed Elizabeth. Jonathon expects it, as does everyone in both their families.” He shook his head. “Charles is a far better match for her than I in temperament and heritage and all those other things that are taken into account when entering a marriage. Besides, he has loved her always, and I—”
Frederick raised
a brow. “Have loved her nearly as long?”
Nearly.
“Love? Don’t be absurd.” Nick snorted in amused disdain, as if the very concept of his loving Elizabeth Effington at all, let alone for much of his life, were ridiculous.
But he had.
She’d been a child when they’d first met and he barely a few years older. She’d ignored him, of course, and he’d ignored her equally well. Jonathon and Charles had become his friends and constant companions. In spite of that, between the years of school and travel, his path had crossed hers infrequently. And while she’d paid him no particular notice when it had, and he, in the way of his male friends, had not deigned to pay her heed, he had always been all too aware of her presence. Of the spark of gaiety in her lovely blue eyes and the joy that echoed in the ring of her laughter.
Yes, he had loved her nearly always.
“And what of Elizabeth?” Frederick said slowly. “Does she care for you?”
“Of course not. She loves Charles. She always has. She…” Nick shook his head. “I can’t imagine that she has any affection for me at all.”
Nick didn’t know of her feelings, not really. Did a scant handful of conversations that had begun innocently enough and ended with his revealing things he had never told a soul, thoughts and dreams he hadn’t realized he’d had until he’d gazed into her lovely face and heard her own candid responses indicate affection on her part? Did the fact that inevitably when he glanced at her across a room, her gaze would meet his again and again, as if she were looking for him just as he was looking for her, signify a longing that matched his own? And was the shock in her eyes after he’d dared to kiss her maidenly outrage or a silent admission that she’d been as shaken by the moment as he?
It scarcely mattered.
“I daresay if she has any feeling for me whatsoever, they are perhaps those of confusion.” He chose his words carefully. “I have not always been as circumspect with her as I have wished. But she is young, and a bit of confusion regarding her feelings in response to the unwarranted attentions of another man, any man, is to be expected.”
Confusion brought by his glance and his kiss and a yearning he knew full well he could keep from his face but feared it did indeed show in his eyes.
Frederick snorted. “You are scarcely much older than she.”
“Three years, Uncle.” Nick set his jaw firmly. “There is a great deal of difference between a man of two and twenty and a woman who is barely nineteen.”
“Ah, yes, what was I thinking?” Frederick puffed his cigar in the methodical manner that signified serious thought on the older man’s part. Nick braced himself. This discussion was obviously far from over.
“Then you have not spoken to her of your feelings?”
“I have no feelings for her.”
His uncle ignored him. “Don’t you think you should? Speak to her, that is.”
Nick grit his teeth. “No, as I have said repeatedly, I have no feelings for her.”
Frederick pressed on. “But if she feels the same it would be the height of fool—”
“Damn it all, Frederick, I am not my father.” Nick glared at his uncle. “I will not fail where he failed, and I will not steal the love of another man’s life from him. A man who has been as close to me as any brother.”
“You would deny Elizabeth the happiness your mother found with your father?”
“No!” Nick raked his hand through his hair. “I will ensure her happiness. I will guarantee it by leaving her free to be happy with Charles.”
“And what of your happiness?”
“Achieving my ambitions will make me happy.” Nick turned on his heel and paced across the room, ignoring a question in the back of his mind.
Was he trying to convince his uncle or himself?
“And who knows what may happen in the future. I may find not only my fortune but a wife in America.” He pulled up short and cast his uncle a wicked grin. “Or I may live all my days as you have, with an assortment of women to warm my bed.”
“Yes, well…” Frederick cleared his throat. “That is not precisely…” He glared. “I have no particular regrets about how I have lived my life, and that is not the topic at hand. We are not discussing my life but yours.”
“Indeed, and you would do well to remember that. I have made my decision, and I believe with all my heart it is best for everyone concerned.” Nick lightened his tone. “Come now, Uncle, it’s Christmastime. There is singing on every street corner, and goodwill hangs in the air between friends and strangers alike. It’s the last such season we shall see in one another’s company for Lord knows how long. I should hate to spend our final day in argument.”
“It needn’t be our final day,” Frederick muttered, then rolled his gaze toward the ceiling in surrender. “However, I shall say no more on the subject.” He aimed his cigar at his nephew. “But I vow, boy, to include a plea for your return with every letter I write to you.”
“I expect no less.”
“As you will not be here for Christmas Day, I assume you will at least attend the Effington Christmas Ball tonight.”
“I would not miss it, Uncle,” Nick said with a smile that belied the churning in his stomach. He would not, could not miss the opportunity to see her one last time.
He didn’t know how she felt and probably never would, but he was certain he couldn’t bear to hear from her own lips that she cared nothing for him. Nor could he stand to watch her pledge her heart to another. In many ways, he was something of a coward.
And if indeed she did declare some affection for him? It was of no real significance. She had loved Charles all her life, and even if she thought she cared for Nick, it could not possibly be more than a fleeting attraction probably brought on by the enormity of her impending betrothal. There was not the slightest doubt in Nick’s mind that she belonged with Charles and with Charles was where her happiness lay.
Besides, he would not break his best friend’s heart, and he would not follow his father’s path.
“Very well then. I will concede defeat, as I am left no other choice.” Frederick heaved a sigh, rose to his feet, and crossed the room to settle behind a rosewood desk carved in the Egyptian revival style popular at the beginning of the century. “However, there are any number of issues we must settle here and now, letters of credit, the transfer of funds—that sort of thing.”
Nick braced his hands on the desk and leaned toward his uncle. “I vow I shall pay you back. Every penny.”
“It is every bit your money as much as it is mine. Always has been and always will be.” Frederick’s cool brown eyes gazed up at his nephew. “Be rest assured, Nicholas, I have no doubt of your success.”
Something akin to pride flooded Nick, coupled with affection for this man he did indeed love as a son loves a father. “Thank you, Uncle.”
“A word of advice, though, before we leave off other subjects altogether and turn our attention to finances. If I may.”
Nick shook his head and straightened. “If I said no, would that stop you?”
Frederick grinned. “My boy, it would scarcely slow me down.”
“Very well then. What sage words of wisdom born of your vast years of experience have you for me, Uncle?”
“Nothing you don’t already know, I suspect. Simply keep in mind that any number of women may warm your bed, but it is the rare woman who can warm your heart.”
“Wise words indeed, Uncle, and I shall be wise in turn to remember them.” Nick’s laughter belied the vague ache in the back of his throat.
There would indeed be women to warm his bed in the future, but his heart? No. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever filling this empty void that currently lingered in the vicinity of his heart. And if his heart was empty, his ambition would fill his life.
He had found the love of his life and she could never be his. It was a nasty quirk of fate, but there it was. In many ways, Frederick was right about history repeating itself, but the end result would n
ot be the same.
Nick would make his fortune and add to the wealth and prestige of the Collingsworth name.
He would not break another man’s heart for the sake of his own.
And he would not, he would never, be the man his father had been.
Chapter 3
Holly and ivy, evergreens and all manner of fruits and berries, caught with wide silk and satin ribbons in shades of red and gold and silver, hung in great festoons and massive swags along the grand stairway at Effington House. Every doorway and each window was framed with an overabundance of greenery, as if they were portals not to another room or the out-of-doors but entry to a secret world of magic and joy and all that was Christmas.
A huge kissing bough hung beneath the chandelier in the foyer that led to the ballroom. While it was not the most discreet spot to share a kiss, Mother insisted it be placed prominently so that friends and acquaintances could embrace publicly in the spirit of the season. There were, of course, bunches of mistletoe hung here and there throughout the house for more private moments of affection, even if Father heartily disapproved, pointing out that he had two daughters and, worse, a son, and mistletoe was not especially conducive to proper behavior. Mother disagreed, and Mother, being Mother, as well as furthermore voicing complete confidence in the character of her offspring, always had her way in such things. And Father, even after long years of marriage, still being thoroughly besotted with his wife, grudgingly allowed her whatever she wished.
Even the ancient family portraits of long dead and perpetually scowling Effington ancestors lining the walls of the open gallery overlooking the first floor were bedecked with fir branches and ivy and ribbons. If one was particularly fanciful, one might imagine their countenances a bit less forbidding, the suggestion of a smile on their lips, even the hint of a twinkle in their eyes in celebration of the season.
Lizzie smiled at the thought and started down the broad double stairway that swept in a gracious curve to the ground floor. It had always struck her as exceedingly odd that those long-ago Effingtons had chosen to be preserved for eternity in such serious expressions. Not at all accurate, given everything she had heard through her life about those who had preceded her; stories of swashbuckling privateers, proud, stubborn women, spies and patriots, lords and ladies and those substantially less than noble, and all sorts of other fascinating characters.
A Visit from Sir Nicholas Page 3
