Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(18)
“Miss Bursnell,” Lord Wintham said from his seat at the head of the table, “as you are interested in books, you might like to know there is a lovely circulating library nearby. Or perhaps you have visited there already?”
Adelaide shook her head. “We have been so busy that I haven’t had the opportunity.” She couldn’t keep the wistful note from her voice. How lovely it would be to spend an afternoon in one of the reading rooms!
“I’ll take you there, if you would like.” Nick cut his meat nonchalantly. “There is a novel I should like to rent.”
Lady Freesia puckered her brow. “You don’t read novels. You told me you hadn’t the time to waste on such nonsense.”
“I have it on good authority that Maria Edgeworth is well worth my time. Belinda, in particular, was highly recommended.” His icy blue eyes glimmered in the candlelight.
Adelaide wrenched her gaze away, biting her lip. Oh, he ought not look at her like that! Surely his notice of her was obvious to both their families. What would they think?
Oh.
They would think exactly what he wanted them to think, which was that Nicholas Eastwood had an interest in courting Adelaide Bursnell. That was their game, was it not? To make their families—nay, all of London—believe that a marriage between them would be good and proper, perhaps even a love match?
It was only she who knew the truth.
They were not good. They were certainly not proper.
And love?
It was as much a lie today as it had always been.
Chapter Fifteen
At precisely a quarter past four, Nick rang the bell at 21 Tulip Street. It had been two days since the ball, and both of those days he had sent flowers to this very address for Miss Adelaide Bursnell, in the manner of a proper gentleman interested in courting a proper lady. By his estimation, the time had now come to show a more direct interest.
“I’m here for Miss Bursnell,” he told Harvey, the butler. “Tell her I have arrived.”
Harvey eyed Nick’s muddy boots and pressed his fingertips together. “If you will be so good as to wait here, sir, I shall announce you.”
But Nick had no use for snobby butlers. “I’ll wait in the sitting room.”
“Sir!” Harvey protested, but it was too late.
Nick shouldered past the man and crossed to the sitting room in long strides. At the doorway, he paused. Adelaide was inside. She was unaware of his presence, sitting with her legs tucked up beneath a pale lavender skirt, her shoes placed neatly next to the chair. It was the sort of scene a husband might find upon returning home to a waiting wife. Something ached deep in his chest.
“Is the book a good one?” he asked, for want of anything better to say.
She startled and flushed. She swung her legs down, exposing white feet with faint blue veins and a sliver of calf. He had seen much more of her, and much more interesting parts, but even so, his knees felt less sturdy than they ought. He leaned against the door frame, casually crossing his arms over his chest.
“You ought not to enter a room like a thief.” She slid her feet into the embroidered pink slippers, much to his disappointment. “It’s not polite.”
He hiked his brows. “I asked about your book. I did not creep behind your shoulder and shout boo.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “So you did. Have you read The Heroine? It was recommended to me by Miss Benton. I happened to mention that I greatly love Gothic novels, and she thought I would quite enjoy this.” Adelaide studied the cover, eyes narrowing. “I believe she is having a bit of fun with me.”
“I haven’t read it.” He paused. “Are you finished with Childe Harold, then?”
“No.” She laughed again. “I don’t believe I shall ever be finished with it. I have read it twice now, and I long to read it a third time. But one cannot live on Byron alone, can one?”
He hadn’t the slightest idea. Who ever heard of living on books?
“Is this how you have spent your entire morning?” he queried. “Should you not be out shopping for a new ball gown or whatever it is ladies do?”
“My mother and sister are doing that very thing. Shopping for Alice’s wedding trousseau, I mean. Oh!” She jumped to her feet, her book sliding to the floor. “You should not be here, Nick. I have no chaperone.” She bent to pick up the volume, presenting him with her lovely backside.
Dear God.
No chaperone. Just him. And her. Together.
I have no chaperone.
Once he had lived and ached for those words.
Fuck.
He tried very hard not to move toward her. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Why not? It is not secret. You can see for yourself that I am alone.”
“Where is your father? Your aunt?”
“My aunt is visiting friends. My father…” Her gaze shifted away. “He’s out.”
Nick did not like the shadow that crossed her face when she spoke of her father, but he would ponder that later. Right now, he had more important matters to consider. Such as how to convince his body that the thing it wanted most was not the soft, fragrant bluestocking before him, and to turn around and walk straight out the door.
Go, he ordered his feet. Move. Now.
His feet did not budge.