Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(15)

“Hmm.” Nathaniel frowned at that, but continued reading. “Handsome enough? Not better than a colonel? Why did you not simply write, ‘like Nicholas Eastwood, but just a little worse’?” He howled with laughter at his own joke. Then his gaze landed on the last item, and his laughter died abruptly.

Enough of this.

Nick stood, relieved Nate of the list, and returned to his seat almost before Nathaniel realized what had happened.

“Nick—”

“We are not discussing it.”

“But you wrote—”

“Am I wrong?” Nick demanded.

Nathaniel paused. “No,” he said finally. But he looked troubled.

“Can we agree never to speak of it again?”

“I suppose,” Nathaniel said reluctantly.

Now would be the ideal time for his brother to state his purpose for his sudden appearance in Nick’s house. He waited, but Nathaniel said nothing.

“I suppose you are here because Alice is busy and you expect me to entertain you,” Nick muttered.

“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.” Nathaniel grinned. “Mother requests your presence for dinner. I have been sent to collect you.”

Nick groaned.

“Freesia will be there,” Nathaniel coaxed. “You love Freesia.”

This was true. Nick was extremely fond of their younger sister, who had been the only one to stand by him when his parents had cast him out. He could stand by her now, even if it meant listening to her endless chatter on beaux and balls.

“The Bursnells will be there, as well. Mother wants our families to know each other better, since we will soon be related.”

Ah. This was that dinner.

“Very well.” Nick rose from his chair. “You go ahead and tell Mother I am coming. I have to change for dinner first.”

“I’ll wait,” Nathaniel said cheerfully, clearly not trusting him at his word.

Nick growled but left the room to change. He dressed hastily, not wanting to leave his brother alone too long in his study with his private papers. Particularly the letter from Montrose. He rushed back to the study, but Nathaniel was still sitting exactly as he had left him, contemplating the ceiling.

“I’m ready,” Nick said.

“You’re not shaved. Mother will be annoyed.”

“Oh, dear. Whatever will she do?” Nick lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Banish me from our childhood home, perhaps?”

Nathaniel looked at him. “Enough of that, brother. You are not without sin, yourself.”

Nick frowned. “What I have done, I did in service of my king and countrymen. You will not judge me for it.” He judged himself enough as it was.

Nathaniel looked at him oddly, then shook his head. But he said no more as they left the house.

It wasn’t until much later that night, when Nick again took up his list, that it occurred to him that perhaps Nathaniel had been referring to Adelaide.





Chapter Thirteen


Dinner was a very bad idea. Nick watched his mother descend the staircase with a feeling of doom.

“Nicholas, darling.” Lady Wintham stretched her hands toward him, but he took a quick step back and bowed.

“Mother. You look just as lovely as you did four years ago, when we met for luncheon.”

Her hands dropped to her sides, and two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. Her eyes turned wet, but it was no less than she deserved. Did she think he would make this easy on her? By God, he would not.

“You did not meet me for luncheon,” Freesia admonished. She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “But here you are at last, and I’m too happy to lecture. You won’t go away again, will you, Nick?”

“Never.” He grasped his sister’s elbows to return her kiss. He had visited her perhaps once a year since he turned sixteen—though never for more than an hour’s time. He was thankful for Freesia’s motto of asking for forgiveness rather than permission. She had never doubted him, and for that he was even more grateful.

“Has Alice arrived yet?” Nathaniel asked, looking about as though he expected her to appear from thin air.

“Not yet,” said his mother. “Come, shall we wait in the drawing room? Your father has opened a bottle of Madeira, and I fancy a drink before dinner.”

No sooner had the drinks been poured than Grimbly entered. “Viscount Westsea and his wife and daughters, my lady.”

“Oh, lovely.” She clapped her hands.

Lord Westsea entered the room with his wife. “Good evening, Wintham. Lady Wintham, thank you for inviting us.”

Then he stepped aside, revealing Adelaide. And Nick’s annoyance with his mother stuttered to a halt. Suddenly there was not enough air in the room. Why did they never open a window in this musty old house? It was a miracle Nathaniel had not died of a lung infection years ago—which they undoubtedly would have blamed on Nick.

“Miss Bursnell, you look lovely.” Nathaniel bowed while Nick was still gasping for breath. Then he turned to Alice. “Hello, love,” he said, too quietly for her mother’s ears to catch.

“Have a glass of madeira, Westsea,” Nick’s father said, pouring another drink. “How have you enjoyed London? Quite a change from the wilds of Northumberland.”