A Visit from Sir Nicholas

by Victoria Alexander

  Nick heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Very well.”

  He scanned the room slowly, trying to put himself in the place of Elizabeth’s sons. Certainly, if one were only eight or six years of age the mounted heads of exotic beasts hanging on the walls would be intriguing if not downright frightening, the medieval suit of armor in the corner, one of many lingering throughout the house, might well be fascinating, the swords hanging on the walls, the miniature cannon, the models of ships in full sail…

  “Good God.” Nick’s mouth dropped open. How could he have failed to notice? “The place is the proverbial boyhood dream come true.”

  Jonathon nodded sagely. “Exactly.”

  “All I really have to do is invite them over and set them free.” Nick considered the possibilities. “Of course Elizabeth might not be overly pleased by the prospect of her children spending time with me.”

  “Yet, as you are in charge of the management of their inheritance, it only makes sense that you should wish to get to know them,” Jonathon said mildly. “Besides, Lizzie’s efforts to show how frivolous she is probably demand she spend a great deal of time away from the house. It has been my observation that women cannot shop to their full potential when confined within the walls of their own homes.”

  “You are suggesting I court these children without their mother’s knowledge? Earn their affections before she can protest?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It seems rather underhanded to me.”

  “Oh, it most certainly is.”

  Nick grinned. “I like it though.”

  “I thought you would.” Jonathon smiled smugly. “After the children, you need to get the support of the rest of the family. Indeed, you may already have it, as they’ve always thought highly of you.”

  “Still, the biggest obstacle to winning Elizabeth’s hand remains Elizabeth herself.”

  “I can help with the children and the family, but I’m not sure I can help you with that.” Jonathon blew a long breath. “However, I am confident my sister once cared for you, and I would wager a great deal she still does.”

  “Why do you say that?” Nick said slowly.

  “The vehemence with which she denies that she felt anything whatsoever for you coupled with the way she defends what she had with Charles. I think she’s very much afraid of admitting that she still cares for you, as well as admitting that her marriage was not as perfect as she’d always thought it was. Both admissions might lead one to the conclusion that she married the wrong man.”

  Nick shook his head. “I gave her no choice.”

  “We are talking about my sister.” Jonathon raised a brow. “Even back then, high-spirited and frivolous did not equate with submissive and stupid. Elizabeth Effington Langley has always to my knowledge had a choice about everything.”

  Nick could still remember the look in her eyes. “Not this time.”

  “Nonsense.” Jonathon snorted. “She could have insisted you take her with you instead of calmly accepting everything you said and pretending she didn’t care. Indeed, she could have followed you. But she wasn’t sure enough of her feelings so she chose the safe, and one might have argued at the time, wisest course for her life.”

  Nick narrowed his gaze. “You know a great deal about what passed between Elizabeth and myself. I find it difficult to believe that she would have confided in you. Not about this.”

  “It’s not important how I know what I know, only that I do know.” Jonathon waved away Nick’s comment. “As I was saying, it was Lizzie’s choice as much as it was yours.”

  “Still, she was young and I broke her heart.”

  “She’ll never admit to that. And therein lies your problem.”

  Nick scoffed. “Just one?”

  “Perhaps she needs to accept the feelings of the past, and more, her own mistakes—”

  “And mine.”

  Jonathon nodded. “Absolutely yours. Regardless of your intentions, you were a fool.”

  “Thank you for putting it so succinctly,” Nick said wryly.

  “My pleasure.” Jonathon leaned forward. “You never stopped loving her, and I suspect there is every possibility she never stopped loving you as well. However, that admission changes everything in her life.” He studied his friend. “Have you told her?”

  “Told her what?”

  “That you love her?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “What did you tell her when you said you wanted to marry her?”

  “I said she would make a good,” Nick winced, “partner.”

  “Partner?” Jonathon’s brow rose.

  “It seemed the thing to say at the moment.”

  “You would have been better off with the gear analogy. Halves of a whole and all that.”

  “No doubt, but I am new to this business of proposing marriage.” Nick blew a frustrated breath. “I have never given it a great deal of thought, but I have always assumed the why of an offer of marriage was not as important as the offer itself.”

  “You know nothing about women, do you?” Jonathon cast him a pitying glance.

  “On the contrary, I know a great deal about women,” Nick said staunchly, then grimaced. “I simply know nothing about offers of marriage. And I don’t know why I’m listening to you. You’ve never been in this position.” Nick narrowed his gaze. “And why haven’t you? We are of a similar age. Why aren’t you married?”

  “Alas,” Jonathon heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I have yet to find the woman of my dreams.” He grinned. “Or she has yet to find me.”

  Nick raised a brow.

  “I come from a family of headstrong, clever women. Indeed the Effingtons are known for it. I long thought I wanted a wife who was completely different. A wife who would be biddable and complacent and would make my wants and desires and needs paramount in her life.”

  “That sounds remarkably—”

  “Dull? It is.” Jonathon nodded. “To my surprise, I found the appeal of such women was greater in theory than in reality. I cannot abide the thought of spending the rest of my life with a woman who has nothing more in her head than how to be a perfect wife.” Jonathon shrugged. “It appears I too want a woman who is something of a challenge.”

  “Life will certainly never be dull with Elizabeth,” Nick murmured.

  “The question remains as to how you get to that life. Thus far, the plan consists of”—Jonathon ticked the points off on his fingers—“making it impossible for her to ignore you by closing her accounts.”

  “Becoming friends with her sons.”

  “As well as the rest of the family. Telling her how you feel about her.”

  Nick nodded. “How I’ve always felt.”

  “Admitting you made an enormous mistake ten years ago—”

  “I have admitted my mistake already.”

  “But did you admit the sheer enormity of it? That this was the biggest mistake you have ever made in your entire life?”

  “Perhaps not,” Nick murmured.

  “Grovel, Nicholas, grovel with enthusiasm and sincerity,” Jonathon said firmly. “And finally, you must show her the price she pays for independence.”

  Nick raised a brow. “Is that all?”

  “Probably not, but it is a plan of sorts.” Jonathon grinned. “Neither organized nor succinct, but a plan nonetheless.” His eyes widened with realization. “I’ve got it.”

  “What?”

  “What Lizzie loses by being independent.”

  “Go on.”

  “Love,” Jonathon said with a smug smile. “A grand passion.”

  “I thought it was a grand madness?”

  Jonathon scoffed. “There’s little difference between love and madness. Show her you love her, Nicholas, and more, show her she loves you.”

  “That actually makes a certain amount of sense.” Nick stared at his friend. “You’re really rather wise when it comes to women.”

  “No.” Jonathon laughed. “Actually, I’m a complete idi
ot when it comes to women. I have no idea what I’m talking about.” He sobered. “But I do know my sister. And I suspect until she accepts her feelings past and present for both you and Charles, and until she accepts that she too made a mistake ten years ago, there can be no future between you.”

  “That’s an all too sobering thought,” Nick said quietly. “Elizabeth is a remarkably stubborn woman.”

  “Still, I’d put your determination up against her stubbornness any day of the week.”

  Nick blew a long sigh. “Thank you. That’s something, at any rate.”

  “Don’t thank me.” Jonathon grinned. “I could be wrong.”

  Chapter 14

  Elizabeth swept into the foyer of Nicholas’s house the moment Edwards opened the door. Miss Otis trailed a mere step or two behind.

  “Where is he?” Elizabeth snapped, noting and disregarding Edwards’s odd apparel.

  “He, my lady?” Edwards’s tone was calm and cool and rational.

  “Sir Nicholas. Where—” Elizabeth started and stared at the butler.

  Miss Otis’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened to form a perfect O.

  Edwards stared back blandly, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. As if he hadn’t forsaken the usual reserved attire required of a butler for clothing of a more bizarre nature.

  He wore no coat but instead sported a gold brocade waistcoat that reached to his knee in a style that had not been seen for more than a century. The sleeves of his white shirt were overly full, with a touch of lace at the wrists. He wore tall, loose-fitting boots, deeply cuffed, and if Elizabeth hadn’t known better, she could have sworn that was a discarded eye patch hanging loosely about the butler’s neck. At his waist—

  “What is that?” Elizabeth pointed a shaky finger. “Surely that’s not a sword?”

  “Indeed it is, my lady,” Edwards said without so much as a blink to indicate that wearing a sword was the least bit unusual for a servant in modern-day London.

  “He looks like a blooming pirate, my lady,” Miss Otis said, awe or perhaps shock coloring her voice.

  “An aging pirate,” Elizabeth said sharply.

  Edwards’s brow twitched.

  Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. “What precisely is going on, Edwards, and where are my children?”

  “His name, at the moment, is Mr. Edwards. First mate to the Pirate King.” Nicholas’s voice sounded from the shadows at the top of the stairs. “And I…”

  Elizabeth looked up, her mouth dropped open.

  Nicholas slid halfway down the curved banister on one hip, then leapt over the side of the railing and dropped a good four feet to land with a flourish lightly in front of her. “Am the Pirate King.” He whipped a wide-brimmed, feather-plumed hat from his head and swept an exaggerated bow. “And I am at your service.”

  “Your Majesty,” Miss Otis breathed and dropped a curtsy.

  “He’s not a Pirate King,” Elizabeth snapped.

  “He looks like a Pirate King,” Miss Otis murmured.

  “Thank you,” Edwards said.

  “Well, he’s not.” Elizabeth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “He’s a madman.”

  “But you must admit, I do look like a Pirate King.” Nicholas smirked. “And a handsome devil at that.”

  He did indeed look most impressive in a fanciful sort of way. His coat was as ancient as Edwards’s, cut long down to his knees, of a slightly faded blue, embellished with gold trim and rows of gold buttons. The shirt beneath was opened halfway to his waist. His trousers were tucked into boots similar to Edwards’s and he, too, had a sword at his waist. He looked every bit like a pirate who had just stepped from a storybook, and admittedly, the style suited him. He was indeed a handsome devil, and Elizabeth had always been rather partial to the idea of handsome, devilish pirates. She steeled herself against the most annoying impulse to throw herself into his arms and ignored the realization of how much she had missed him.

  “I will concede the devil part of that statement.” She waved the note she had clutched in her hand. “Now explain this.”

  He plucked it from her hand and scanned the brief lines. “It appears to be an invitation.”

  “You know full well it’s an invitation. It’s from you.” She snatched it out of his hands and glanced at it. “Dated three days ago and addressed to Viscount Langley and the Honorable Adam Langley. For the purpose of tea and exploration. ‘Tea and exploration’?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “Admittedly they preferred a rather sweet fruit drink my cook concocted to the tea.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. “And the exploration?”

  “Look around you, Elizabeth.” Nicholas gestured in a grand manner, ridiculous hat still in hand. “Have you ever seen a house more suited to exploration by young boys?”

  Elizabeth glared. “Miss Otis informs me the boys have spent the last three afternoons here while I have been out.”

  “I am truly sorry, my lady,” Miss Otis said quickly. “Sir Nicholas came to the house in the company of your brother. His lordship—your brother—swore their visits were appropriate as Sir Nicholas is their financial guardian and—”

  “Yes, yes, I know, Miss Otis, you have explained it to me once already. I shall deal with my brother later.” Elizabeth waved away her comment and turned to Nicholas. “As for you, you have a great deal of explaining to do about another matter that has come to my attention, but first I demand you hand over my children. At once.”

  “Children?” Nicholas drew his brows together. “Have you seen any children, Mr. Edwards?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Edwards said in a level voice. “Only the Queen’s men.”

  Nicholas gasped in mock horror. “The Queen’s men!” He glanced from side to side quickly, as if the aforementioned Queen’s men would burst into the foyer at any minute. “Aye, they are hot on our heels.”

  “Nicholas!” The man was definitely insane and, if she hadn’t been so angry, possibly a touch amusing.

  “What say you, Mr. Edwards?” Nicholas spun his hat through the air to Edwards, who caught it without effort. “Do we make a run for it? Or,” his gaze slid from Elizabeth to Miss Otis and back, “do we take hostages?”

  “Hostages I should think, sir,” Edwards said coolly.

  “My thoughts exactly. I’ll take this one, you take the other.” Nicholas grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, spun her into his arms, and locked her tight against his side. “Aye, this one’s a beauty.”

  “If you take so much as one step toward me, Mr. Edwards, I shall be forced to retaliate.” Miss Otis raised her chin and glared at the pirate butler, who had not moved an inch. “I have brothers and I am well used to dealing with them. It will be difficult to use that sword of yours if you’re doubled over clutching your—”

  “Miss Otis, that’s quite enough. I’m certain Edwards has no intention of taking you hostage or anything else.” She glared at Nicholas. “Tell her.”

  “ ’Tis true, lass.” Nicholas directed his words at Miss Otis, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Elizabeth. “I fear ye will not fetch the price of her ladyship.”

  Miss Otis sputtered. “Well, I daresay.”

  “Aye.” Nicholas tightened his grip and stared into Elizabeth’s eyes. “This one will do. She’s a comely wench, she is.”

  “I am not!” Elizabeth snapped, struggling to keep the reason for her presence in the first place foremost in her mind. And struggling as well to disregard how very exciting it was to be in his arms again and to ignore the impulse to banish Edwards and Miss Otis from the house and play, just for a moment or two, Pirate King and comely wench. “A wench, that is. Now unhand me.”

  “Ah, my lady, you are now the hostage of the Pirate King.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Enjoy it.”

  “I most certainly will not enjoy it! Release me at once. Your blasted sword is poking into me.”

  Before she knew it he had bent her backwards in his arms and she was forced to cling to him or fall. She stared up
at him and he leaned closer. “It’s not my sword.”

  She sucked in a shocked breath. “Nicholas! Release me this very moment or I shall—”

  “You shall what?” His voice was low and meant for her ears alone.

  She lowered her voice to match his. “I shall grab that sword and twist it out of its scabbard until tears fill your eyes and you scream for mercy.”

  He winced. “Yow. That doesn’t sound at all…” He paused, then shrugged. “Of course, it could be fun.”

  “Nicholas!”

  “Don’t worry, Mother, we’ll save you,” Christopher’s voice sounded from above.

  “We’re coming, Mummy,” Adam called.

  Nicholas pulled her upright but kept a firm arm around her. She stared at the top of the stairs. Before she could utter a word of protest, two small, red-clad bodies slid into sight, riding the banister backwards at an alarming speed.

  Her heart lodged in her throat. “Get off that banister this very moment!”

  She started toward the stairs, but Nicholas jerked her back and spoke low into her ear. “I assure you, you’ve nothing to worry about. They’re quite expert at it. Besides, they’re not going nearly as fast as it looks.”

  “But they’re children!”

  “At the moment they are the Queen’s men and they have come to rescue you. Do not ruin it for them. Now, prepare to be rescued,” he tightened his grip, “and smile.”

  It was an exceedingly long banister and appeared exceptionally high even if, in a rational part of her mind, she knew it was neither. Besides, the boys weren’t traveling nearly as fast as she had originally thought. Christopher came first, sliding with a surprising amount of grace, to thump against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Only then did she notice the pillow tied to the post. Apparently the banister had become a well-used route. Christopher leapt off the railing a split second before his brother careened down the banister after him, whooping all the way. Adam smacked against the newel post and, despite the padding, Elizabeth winced at the sound.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, forced a brilliant smile to her face, and spoke low to Nicholas out of the corner of her mouth. “When this is over, you shall need someone to slide to your rescue.”