A Visit from Sir Nicholas

by Victoria Alexander

  Elizabeth squared her shoulders slightly. Confidence gathered in the last years, forged from self-reliance and accomplishment, had well prepared her for such a task. No matter how clever or powerful or wealthy Nicholas might be, now that he was here in the flesh, she hadn’t a doubt in the world that she could handle him. She’d simply needed a moment to recover from the shock of his unexpected appearance. There was nothing more to her reaction than that.

  She drew a deep breath and forced a pleasant smile. “Do forgive my rudeness, Sir Nicholas, it has been a long, trying day thus far.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “So I gather.”

  Heat flushed up her face. She hadn’t blushed in years, and the fact that she did so now was almost as infuriating as everything else that had happened today.

  “Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there,” she said in an offhand manner. “May I be so bold as to ask what the two of you have been discussing?”

  “All sorts of things, Lizzie,” Jonathon said quickly. “Nicholas has done and seen a great deal during his travels. You can’t begin to imagine the—”

  “You, my lady,” Nicholas said coolly. “We have been discussing you.”

  “Well, not really you, exactly, or not you exclusively,” Jonathon cut in. “That is to say—”

  Elizabeth ignored him. “Do go on, Sir Nicholas. Exactly what about me were you discussing?”

  “Exactly?” The corners of his lips quirked upward.

  “Exactly.” She narrowed her gaze, but her smile never wavered.

  “I can see I’m probably not needed,” Jonathon murmured and edged his way toward the door.

  “Don’t take another step, Jonathon.” She addressed her brother, but her gaze never left Nicholas. Her cool tone matched his. “You are very much a part of this.”

  “More’s the pity,” her brother muttered.

  “Let me see if I remember exactly.” Nicholas furrowed his brow in apparent thought, although she didn’t doubt for a moment it was some sort of ploy simply to heighten her annoyance. It worked exceedingly well. “I inquired as to the health of your sons. Christopher and Adam, I believe.”

  “They are quite well, thank you for asking.” Her voice carried just the right shade of politeness.

  “I imagine they are eager for Christmas?”

  “They are eight and six years of age, Sir Nicholas. They can think of little else.”

  He chuckled. “I look forward to meeting them.” “Oh?” She raised a brow. “Then you are planning to stay as long as Christmas?” She tried to stop herself, but the words came of their own accord. “This year.”

  “Dear Lord, take me now,” Jonathon muttered.

  Nicholas stared for a moment, then laughed. “Well said, my lady. I daresay I deserve it. Between my earlier travels with my uncle and my own pursuits, I have missed—what? Thirteen Christmases in London? Far too many.”

  “Too many indeed,” Jonathon said firmly.

  “I confess I have missed it greatly. Perhaps it is the sentimentality in the air or the spirit of goodwill toward all, but at this time of year, my thoughts tend to dwell on past Christmases and on those persons I cannot be with yet have a deep affection for nonetheless. I find a measure of comfort in those memories and in the various occurrences of the season that remind me of home. In particular, I find nothing brings my thoughts, and indeed my heart, home quite like a reading of,” Nicholas’s gaze met hers, “A Christmas Carol.”

  Her breath caught.

  Nicholas smiled in a far too innocent manner. “Don’t you agree, Lady Langley?”

  She ignored the racing of her pulse at his mention of the book. After all, thousands upon thousands of people had read the story since its publication. It had become the quintessential depiction of Christmas, particularly in England. The fact that it had provided Nicholas comfort during his travels had nothing to do with her.

  “It’s a wonderful story,” she said, her tone a bit harder than she had intended.

  “Indeed it is, and while I am grateful to Mr. Dickens for bringing a measure of home to me during my years in America, I daresay, despite his remarkable work, there is nothing that can replace being in London for Christmas.” He smiled in a wry manner. “As I said, I have missed it.”

  There was something truly genuine in his manner and his smile, and if it had come from any other man, Elizabeth would have been quite moved by it. That no doubt was his plan, to work his way past her defenses with charm and sincerity. Well, she was having none of it.

  “I’m sure Lord Thornecroft has missed you,” Elizabeth said.

  “As have we all.” Jonathon nodded.

  “But I shall not miss another Christmas.” Nicholas’s tone was firm. “This is not a mere visit. My days of travel are at an end. I fully intend to make England my home for the rest of my days.”

  “Excellent.” Jonathon beamed.

  “How very nice. For your uncle,” she said pointedly, her stomach lurching at the thought of Nicholas Collingsworth being back in her world, apparently for good.

  “He is quite pleased, and I see now I was remiss in my responsibilities as his nephew not to have returned some years ago.” Nicholas nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, my uncle’s pleasure is such that he has decided to host a small dinner to celebrate my return.”

  “Like the proverbial prodigal son,” she said in an overly sweet manner. “Will he be sacrificing a fatted calf as well?”

  Jonathon muttered something she was rather glad she didn’t hear. She knew full well her reaction to Nicholas’s presence was perhaps a bit unreasonable, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The man was a threat to the security of her family, her life, and possibly, if she allowed it, even her heart.

  “I don’t think he’s all that fond of fatted calf.” Nicholas’s voice was matter-of-fact, but an annoying twinkle gleamed in his eye. “Still, I shall suggest it. One never knows. You should be receiving invitations in the next day or so. Jonathon.” Nicholas’s words were directed at her brother, but his gaze never left her. “I do hope your family will be able to attend.”

  “We shall make a point of it,” Jonathon said firmly.

  “I, however, fear I am otherwise occupied.” Elizabeth shrugged apologetically. “Christmas is but a few weeks away, and my social obligations are rather more extensive than usual.” She forced a light laugh. “The days surrounding Christmas have become more and more popular for merrymaking. Why, there are dinners and musicales and routs and all manner of entertainments. I do apologize, but there you have it.”

  “That is awkward.” He narrowed his gaze. “Especially as I have not mentioned specifically what evening my uncle has proposed his celebration to mark my homecoming.”

  “I’m certain whatever evening is chosen I shall be unable to attend. I couldn’t possibly fit one more thing onto my calendar.” Her gaze met his directly, and she couldn’t resist a smug smile.

  “We shall see,” Nicholas said softly.

  “Indeed, we shall.” She turned to her brother. “Have you and Sir Nicholas discussed anything else I should be aware of?”

  “We talked about your finances, Lizzie.” Jonathon glanced at her account books stacked on the desk. “You’ll be pleased to know, Nicholas has found everything in order and has decided—”

  “I have decided, as competent a job as you have done up to now, it’s past time I lived up to the responsibilities assigned to me by your late husband,” Nicholas said smoothly.

  “What?” Jonathon’s brow furrowed.

  “Competent?” She stared in disbelief, and her voice rose. “Competent?”

  “Competent.” Nicholas’s tone was firm.

  “My dear Sir Nicholas, my handling of my family’s finances has been substantially more than,” she nearly choked on the word, “competent. The value of virtually everything from Charles’s investments to the estate has increased.”

  “So it would appear. However—”

  She waved at the ledgers on the desk. “
Haven’t you looked at my accounts?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I have glanced at them, but I have yet to do an exhaustive study, which is, frankly, of utmost importance before I can make any decisions regarding your financial state and my administration of it.”

  “Then take them.” She grabbed the heavy pile of oversized books and thrust them toward him. “Study them. Read every line entered for the past three years. Peruse every figure, every decimal, every erasure if you will. And then tell me my handling of my money has been merely competent.”

  Nicholas set his glass on the desk in an annoyingly unhurried manner and accepted the books. “I shall do precisely that. And, as I am certain I will have any number of questions regarding my findings, I shall present myself at your residence this evening.”

  “This evening?” She glared. The arrogance of the man. “I can’t possibly—”

  “The sooner we deal with these matters, the sooner we can establish how we are to proceed from this point forth,” he said with an irritatingly pleasant smile.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I to understand that your living up to the responsibilities assigned to you by my late husband means you intend to take over the active administration of my financial affairs?”

  He nodded. “You may indeed assume that. For the time being at least.”

  “I must say I am somewhat confused,” Jonathon murmured.

  “It’s quite clear to me,” Elizabeth said sharply. “Sir Nicholas has the conceit typical of his gender in that he cannot conceive of the idea that a mere female can handle something as complicated as finances.”

  “I say, Lizzie, that’s not entirely fair,” Jonathon said.

  “No, Jonathon, it’s entirely fair, if not entirely accurate,” Nicholas said. His gaze met hers. “Most men of my acquaintance, and I should include the late Lord Langley among their number, do not consider the fairer sex to be intellectually equipped to deal even adequately with the complicated matters surrounding the management of money. It is admittedly something of a far-fetched idea, yet I am one of those rare specimens who believe there may well be the rare woman who can do precisely that.”

  “As I have,” she snapped.

  “Prove it to me.” A distinct challenge sounded in his voice.

  “And if I do?”

  “Then we shall see.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Very well, it seems that you, the solicitors I have spoken to, even Charles himself have left me with little choice.” She drew a deep breath. “I shall expect you this evening.”

  “Excellent.” Nicholas smiled that enigmatic half smile she had never quite forgotten, and she ignored the odd things it did to the pit of her stomach. “I shall take my leave then.”

  “Allow me to see you out.” Jonathon cast a quick glance at his sister, then escorted Nicholas from the room.

  The moment the door closed behind the men, Elizabeth crumpled into the nearest chair and rubbed her hand across her forehead.

  Dear Lord, she’d known there was every possibility her path would cross Nicholas’s again some day, but she’d always rather hoped it would be when they were both very, very old. Old enough that her knees would no longer weaken at the mere look in his eye, or her hand tremble at the briefest touch of his, or her heart speed up when he smiled.

  In spite of her words and her confidence in her own abilities, she had to admit, at least to herself, the mere presence of Nicholas unnerved her. What she wasn’t willing to admit was why. She certainly didn’t want him, or anyone for that matter, managing her accounts, but now that Nicholas had actually returned it was obvious her apprehension was not limited merely to the control of her finances.

  She’d spent ten years telling herself that what she’d felt for Nicholas had not been significant. A youthful moment of confusion brought on by nothing more lasting than innocent friendship and a kiss or two. If anything it had been a young girl’s first taste of, well, desire. Even, perhaps, lust.

  Lust that had obviously not passed with the years.

  She sank back and absently drummed her fingernails on the arm of the chair.

  As difficult as it was to admit, even after all this time the man did, well, something to her. Something no other man, even her own husband, had ever done to her. Something that would obviously be difficult to handle with any sort of usual method. Still, she was nine-and-twenty and a widow. By her own standards, she was an intelligent woman and, by anyone else’s, an experienced one. She had been married for seven years, after all, and had given birth to two children. Surely she could cope with lust. Her own, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—his as well.

  A tremor of excitement tripped up her spine.

  Oh, she could certainly handle lust. And Nicholas Collingsworth. Both might be rather enjoyable and the kind of adventure she’d never actually had.

  What she couldn’t handle with Nicholas was love.

  And if she was even half as clever as she thought she was, she wouldn’t have to.

  Chapter 7

  It was a damnably good thing Nick had already gone over Elizabeth’s account books once today. Now, sitting across the table from her in the small library in her home, he found it impossible to concentrate on the neatly written rows of numbers.

  Indeed, what male in his right mind could? Only a dead man could sit in the same room with her and fail to notice the way the light from the gas lamps fell on her blond hair and tinted it the color of spun gold. Or ignore the graceful curve of her neck as she bent over the books. Or disregard the manner in which her eminently proper gown molded to her bosom like a caress.

  Or the way her green eyes shot sparks each and every time their gazes met.

  In spite of the veneer of politeness she’d adopted, there was no doubt in his mind that she was still angry with him. On the one hand, that was something of a problem. Just getting her to accept him back into her life would be a challenge. On the other, the fact that she had obviously not, after ten long years, forgiven him struck him as possibly a good sign. If she had not forgiven him after all this time, perhaps she had not lost whatever feelings she’d once had for him. Indeed, at the moment she appeared to truly despise him. And wasn’t there little more than a fine line between love and hate? Right now, hate was a very good sign indeed.

  They’d been in the room for hours, and together they had indeed gone over every entry and every figure in each and every accounting book. He’d had her explain every notation and every action she’d taken. Not that it was truly necessary. Her ledgers were efficient and self-explanatory. In the beginning he’d feared he’d sounded like something of a simpleton, then he’d realized that she took his questioning not as a result of his own lack of intelligence but as a sign of his opinion of hers. Still, she’d been nothing but businesslike and relatively cordial, if distinctly remote, throughout the evening. It must have taken a great deal of self-control on her part.

  Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and studied him. “Well?”

  “Well what?” He drew his brows together in confusion.

  “You’ve seen everything there is to see, Sir Nicholas.” She brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face with a weary hand in a gesture she probably didn’t realize was exceptionally charming. “Have you come to any conclusions?”

  “I have come to any number of conclusions.”

  “And?”

  “And I have an apology to make.”

  “Oh?” She raised a brow.

  “Your management of your finances has indeed been brilliant.” He waved at the account books spread across the desk. “I must commend you. You have done as good a job as any man could have and far better than many I have known.”

  “I’m surprised that you would admit such a thing,” she said slowly.

  “Are you? Now I’m surprised. Why?”

  “You are a man of business, and it has been my experience that most men, men in general, but especially men of business, do not consider
women capable of adequacy, let alone brilliance, in the handling of accounts.”

  “You will find I am not like men in general.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have not managed to achieve what I have by being like most men, particularly most men of business.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured, then drew a deep breath. “Then will you give me leave to continue to handle my money?”

  He considered her for a long moment. From a strictly business standpoint, it was exceedingly foolish to remove a man from a position which he not only liked but excelled at. Yet if he relinquished his duties as administrator, he would have no excuse to see Elizabeth. And the very moment he’d seen her again he’d known that would never do.

  “I will give it due consideration,” he said in his most businesslike way.

  “ ‘Due consideration’?” She blew a frustrated breath. “That’s it? You admit I have performed in an outstanding manner, yet ‘due consideration’ is the best you will offer me?”

  “I will, however, propose a compromise you may find to your liking.”

  “I doubt it. I can’t imagine that any compromise you propose would be to my liking save that of your washing your hands of all of this and leaving me in peace.”

  “Would that I could.” He shook his head forlornly. “But I have responsibilities—”

  “Yes, yes, I am well aware of your responsibilities.” Elizabeth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “What kind of compromise?”

  “You shall continue to manage your accounts much as you always have. I shall go over them on a daily basis until such time as I am confident it is no longer necessary.”

  “How utterly ridiculous.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have been doing exactly that without anyone looking over my shoulder for three years.”

  “Then this shall not be at all difficult for you.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  He shrugged. “I shall remove all financial activity from your control. You shall have an allowance, of course. A set amount for your personal needs and a separate amount for your household. And I should think—”