“Oh, no! Please, Mr. Daventry, I beg of you, leave it alone. If Lady Raven should take against me, my name would be worth nothing! She has a great deal of influence, and without my work I should starve.” Her eyes started with tears, and she turned her head and quickly wiped them away. “Please,” she said in a whisper. “I should never have spoken at all. It was foolishness…”
“But true. I value truth, Mrs. Wells, above everything, and you have been truthful with me. I shall not jeopardize you in any way, I promise. You have made it much easier for me to walk back through that door in a way you cannot understand. I’ll leave you now, for I shouldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. I imagine I’ll see you again.”
Georgia bowed her head, thinking that was about as likely as Lady Raven growing a beard. She managed to smile at him. “I hope your homecoming is a happy one,” she said, rising and brushing off her skirts.
“Not bloody likely,” Nicholas muttered, also standing, “but it’s bound to be interesting. And, ah—I really am sorry about the kiss. I have a tendency to act on impulse, and it seemed the right thing at the moment. It was your tender feelings for my house that did it.”
“Your
house? This is your house?”
“Yes. Well, almost. In theory. It’s complicated. I was distressed to discover what it’s come to, and I suppose I was touched that you felt the same way. Anyway, it’s not the first time that I’ve regretted an impulse—not for my sake this time, but rather for yours.”
“I quite understand. Don’t trouble yourself any further over the matter. Good-bye, Mr. Daventry.” Georgia collected her basket and started back to Ravenswalk.
Nicholas squared his shoulders and banged the heavy brass door knocker, his heart feeling just as heavy, and echoing as loudly in his chest. He almost wished now that he hadn’t seen the state of the Close: he would have felt a great deal more benevolent toward his uncle had his illusions still been in place. But then, illusions were dangerous, and he needed every bit of ammunition at hand.
The man who opened the door was a stranger to him, but his eyebrows went shooting up when he saw Nicholas. It took very little to persuade the man to have him announced.
Nicholas waited in the hall, his eyes scanning every detail. The house had been improved, a great deal of money lavished upon it, that much was immediately evident. What was also evident was that there were items in the hall that had once resided at the Close, and that alone was enough to make Nicholas’ blood boil.
His head jerked around at the sound of a dress rustling across the marble floor, and he slowly turned. Jacqueline hadn’t changed much at all, the ten years honing her face into something approaching real beauty, in fact. There was more confidence in her carriage, as well. She no longer looked like a belligerent new countess, recently elevated from a humdrum existence as widow of a wealthy tradesman. She looked as if she’d been a countess all of her life.
The bodice of her dress was cleverly cut, covering but not disguising the full swell of her breasts, the skirt flaring out just enough, but not so much that the curve of hip was hidden. He knew what the material hid well enough, the memory burned into his mind for all time. He had not thought that his physical reaction to the sight of her would be so extreme, but it was, not unlike being kicked in the gut by a horse, and a vicious horse at that.
“So. Jacqueline,” he said, his voice colder than ice.
“Nicholas,” she replied stiffly, her lips appearing bloodless. Indeed, her entire face was ashen, and he could immediately tell that she was as unnerved as he was. But he had the advantage of surprise and he took it.
“My, my. How you haven’t changed.” He took a step forward, and she retreated a step, but it was only fractional, a momentary lapse.
“What are you doing here?” she said, raising her chin slightly. “You know you are not welcome. I suggest you leave immediately, before I have the footman throw you out.”
Her chest was rising and falling in a quick unnatural rhythm, and Nicholas smiled grimly. “How unfortunate for you, dear Jacqueline. I have no interest in your welcome, and I doubt the footman would be very successful in his efforts. I also have no intention of leaving, not before I’ve seen my uncle.” He’d expected her to recoil, and so didn’t understand the small, tightly folded smile she gave him.
“Very well, Nicholas. I will not deny you your wish. You may see your uncle. And then you will leave, for as you shall discover, you will have no choice in the matter.” She started up the stairs, and Nicholas followed after, the sound of merry voices fading away as they walked down the corridor to his uncle’s rooms.
He was tense, wondering how his uncle might greet him, not pleased that the first meeting had to be under Jacqueline’s eye, in her presence, but he was in no position to argue. He was prepared to see his uncle indisposed, given what Georgia Wells had told him, but nothing prepared him for the sight that met him when he walked into his uncle’s bedchamber.
Nothing could prepare anyone for the sight of a man once strong and forceful, now helpless. He lay in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chest, his arms lying neatly by his sides. His body appeared wasted and lifeless, and dribble fell from his mouth to his chin. His face was twisted and frozen, his eyes the only thing that seemed alive, although they looked cloudy, unclear.
Nicholas dropped to his knees beside the bed, his heart turning over. He took his uncle’s limp hand between his own.
“Uncle William? Uncle William, it’s Nicholas. Can you hear me?” He thought his heart might break. All of his anger, his resentment, melted away as he was confronted with the terrible devastation of the man who had acted as his surrogate father for ten years. In the following years of Nicholas’ exile, those feelings had never vanished, even though they might have been well-disguised beneath careless nonchalance. Beneath that there had been bitter resentment. And apparently, beneath all of that, there had been a deep and abiding love. Whatever his uncle might have done, it hardly mattered now, not in the face of this.
“Uncle William, I’m home,” he said gently. “I’m so sorry. We’ll make it right somehow.” He thought he saw a flicker of comprehension in his uncle’s eyes, and he squeezed his dry hand. “We’ll put the past behind us. I’ll look after you now, just as you once looked after me.
“You most certainly will not,” Jacqueline said from behind him, and he turned, having forgotten for a foolish, unguarded moment that she was there. “There is a manservant to see to his needs, and no one can do anything for him beyond that.”
“Simple companionship might help, Jacqueline. Have you thought of that?”
“Your companionship, my dear Nicholas, would only upset him. Your uncle does not want you, and I do not want you. Neither of us has forgotten. You will leave now, I think.” Her eyes had narrowed, catlike.
“Oh, but I think not, “Nicholas said, rising. “I will stay, whether it pleases you or not. However, I think it might be wiser to step outside to discuss these matters.” He turned and left the room, waiting for Jacqueline outside.
“So,” he said as soon as she had shut the door behind her, “I imagine you’ve been quite content with the situation. How long ago did this condition overtake my uncle?”
“I cannot see why it is any concern of yours. You were cast off, and not a thing you can do or say is going to change that! I find it extraordinary that you have such spleen as to expect to return and be welcomed. Your uncle despises you, Nicholas. He despises you, do you hear me? I will not have you upsetting him in his delicate condition.”
“You couldn’t care less about my uncle’s delicate condition, my dear Jacqueline, nor do you care about my uncle at all. So why don’t we drop this absurd pretense and get down to facts? We both know the truth of the matter, although I have no stomach to discuss it. Instead, I would like the name of my uncle’s man of business.”
“I am that person,” Jacqueline said, demurely folding her hands across her skirt, but she could barely disguise her triumph. “What is it you would like to know?”
Nicholas gave her an incredulous stare. “Surely he wouldn’t have been that stupid.”
“He was not stupid in the least. If anyone has been stupid, it has been you, Nicholas. Now, tell me just what it is you want to know, for I am sure I can answer whatever questions you have.”
“I would like Raven’s Close handed over to me,” Nicholas said between clenched teeth, barely managing to retain control. “It is long past time that I claim it, and it has been run into sorry shape, no doubt thanks to you. I would like to restore it to its former condition, and the sooner that I am given the deed, the better.”
Jacqueline’s vindictive smile broadened. “How unfortunate,” she said. “You must realize that your position is not a secure one.”
“My position, step-aunt, is that I am owed Raven’s Close. It was an agreement between my uncle and myself that I should inherit it at the age of twenty-one. It’s nearly ten years overdue.”
“But things have changed, Nicholas,” Jacqueline said, her eyes now so narrowed that Nicholas could only barely see the lower portion of her irises. “You see, when you were sent away, your uncle decided that your debauchery would either run its course or it would mark you for life. As you know, your uncle has full discretionary powers as to the conditions under which you might inherit. He changed those conditions shortly after you left.”
Nicholas stood very, very still. Her voice contained such suppressed venom that he felt in danger of moving, as if she might literally strike with poisoned fangs, like the vipers in India that he had seen kill more than once.
“Yes?” he asked, his throat tight. “And just how do they stand now?”
“Under the new terms, you must be married by your thirtieth birthday or the property reverts permanently to Ravenswalk, which is your uncle’s full right. I hardly see you marrying within three weeks, Nicholas. Such a pity. So please remove yourself. As I have said repeatedly, you are not welcome here.”
“It’s a shame you see it that way. But I intend to have what’s owed me, and I intend to undo the damage done.”
Jacqueline gave an unladylike snort. “With what funds? Really, Nicholas. I cannot think so. Your uncle thought little enough of the property that it was not worth wasting the money on.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed already that you’ve seen fit to rob it, Jacqueline. I suppose I’m not surprised. You always did have a taste for attractive things. But don’t count your chickens, as they say. It’s clear you’ve had run of the henhouse for far too long.” He turned and walked quickly from the room, hoping the uproar of his mind was not evident.
He let himself out of the house immediately, seeking air. It was not unlike his reaction to his nightmares, this need to gasp for breath. He had been dealt a series of blows, not the least of which was the grave physical condition of his uncle. The fact that he would lose the Close for all time if he wasn’t married by the eighteenth of next month only hit him as an aftershock. He walked the ten minutes to the Close, grateful for the light of the moon, and he sat upon the stump of a fallen oak, contemplating his options. There didn’t seem to be any.
“Dear Lord above,” he finally whispered after another two hours had gone by and he had come up with nothing. He was desperate. He was about as desperate as he had ever been in his life. “Please,” he said, raising his eyes to the star-clustered sky. “Please help me with this. There has to be a way. Surely there has to be a way?”
And then like a blinding flash of inspiration, a solemn, very beautiful face appeared before his eyes. He started at the very idea, then after a few moments of thought, relaxed into it. Well, why not? Why the hell not? “Thank you,” he said, grinning at the stars. “Thanks very much.” He rose to his feet, feeling a great deal better and set on his way.
Nicholas took his chances on the turret, reasoning that it would be the one over the servants’ quarters. As a boy he’d been adept at escaping the confines of Ravenswalk, and it didn’t take too much work to scale the backside of the building. He crept across the flat roof and peered in through the long window. Sure enough, Georgia Wells was soundly sleeping in the iron-posted bed. A table heaped with materials set off in one corner, and a dressmaker’s form stood near it, covered with a half-completed gown of some sort.
He knocked at the window, and she rolled over, flinging her arm over her head. He knocked again, louder, and she sat up, then pushed back the covers and slid out of the bed, coming over to the window, her eyes three-quarters closed and bleary. He stepped back against the coping and threw a pebble onto the roof, and Georgia unlatched the window and threw it open, peering out.
“Good evening, Mrs. Wells,” Nicholas said, moving into her direct line of vision. “A beautiful night, is it not?” He stepped over the low sill into the room.
“Oh, no,” Georgia said, her hands going out in front of her automatically. “Please, you must go away immediately.”
Nicholas took her wrists firmly and put them down by her side. “You misunderstand. I apologize to wake you at this hour and in this fashion, but what I have to say will not wait. I have an offer to make you, and there is a serious time constraint involved in your reply. I assure you this has nothing to do with a seduction.”
She merely gazed at him, still fogged by sleep. “No? What, then?”
“Marriage, actually.”
“Marriage? You must be mad. Or perhaps walking in your sleep. Or perhaps I’m walking in mine. Yes—that must be it. In which case I’ll bid you good night, sir. Be a good dream and go away.” She turned and began to grope for her bed, and he realized with amusement that she really must think she was dreaming.
“Mrs. Wells, I assure you I’m not mad, nor walking in my sleep. Nor are you walking in yours.” He reached out, placing firm hands upon her shoulders, and he turned her around to face him. “Now, please wake up. I need to talk to you, and I’m not leaving until I do.” He gave her a gentle shake.
A frown came over her face. “Oh, dear … you’re not a dream.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“But you came in through the window! How did you do that?”