Chapter Seventeen
Two hours later, Nick deposited Adelaide safely at her home in Mayfair and immediately set off for Brook’s, where he had agreed to meet his brother. Her ambivalence to his proposal should not irk him. After all, she had announced her intention to find a more suitable offer from the very first.
Yet irked he was. He was most decidedly irked.
Behind the annoyance was something even more unpleasant. If not Nick, then whom? For whom had she blushed when she spoke of the roses? Then he remembered her words as they had left for their drive—she was expecting company for dinner. Who? The same man who’d made her blush?
The question continued to plague him even as he arrived at his club.
He stalked through the door, ignoring the butler’s greeting, and threw himself down in a leather chair opposite the fireplace. He glared at his brother.
Nathaniel returned the glare with a raised brow. “Something vexes you, Nick?”
“You vex me, Nate. You vex me very much, indeed.” He deepened his scowl. “Someone is dining with the Bursnells tonight, and it is not you, for you are here with me. Who is it, then? Don’t deny you know. Alice would have told you.”
His brother blinked in surprise. “I do not deny it. Alice told me yesterday that I must entertain myself this evening. Her mother insisted the whole family be present for Lord Hayworth.”
“Hayworth?” One of the dandies from the ball. “Why?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “Doubtless, Westsea has some business reason of one sort or another to explain it. But the real reason, of course, is that they have an unmarried daughter and he is an earl.”
Damnation.
Hayworth was not at all what Nick had in mind for Adelaide. He was handsome enough, but Nick suspected his financial matters were in disarray. Furthermore, he was an idiot. Nick had only spent ten minutes in conversation with him, but that was nine minutes too long.
“Is he courting her, then?” he asked. “Did he send her flowers, as well?”
His brother simply looked at him. “What difference is it to you?”
Nick had a great many answers, none of which Nathaniel would like.
“Fascinating,” a voice drawled.
Startled, Nick turned his head sharply. And there was Duke Wessex, his long form reclining in the chair next to his own, an expression of interest on his smug face.
“Your Grace,” Nick said, because one could not give the cut direct to a duke, no matter how much the duke deserved it. “I had not noticed your presence.”
That only served to amuse the duke even more. “Indeed.”
Nick turned back to his brother, only to find Nathaniel watching him with a puzzled frown.
“You did not notice him there?” He repeated the words slowly, as though unsure of their meaning. “Are you drunk, Nick?”
“Of course not.” Perhaps that should be remedied. “Yet. Whiskey,” he said to the hovering servant, who nodded and spun on his foot.
“You are not yourself,” Nathaniel said. “You always notice, I’ve noticed. Nothing surprises you.” He leaned forward, studying him like a specimen pinned to a board. “I have never before seen you this…emotional.”
In the entire month they’d actually been speaking. Nick refrained from rolling his eyes. “I am always emotional in your presence, brother. The annoyance and irritation I feel are quite overwhelming.”
He took a long swallow from the whiskey that appeared by his elbow. However, Nate was correct. Damnably so. Wessex had surprised him—an error that would have meant certain death mere weeks ago.
No, he was not himself today. He had not been since he saw Adelaide with her book. He felt unsettled and itchy. He took another gulp of his whiskey, allowing the burn to soothe the itch.
“You still have not answered my question,” Nathaniel reminded him. “What difference is it who sends Adelaide flowers?”
“None at all,” Nick said.
“Liar,” Wessex said succinctly.
Nick glowered. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at White’s?”
“I am welcome everywhere.” Wessex gave a wide sweep of his arm, as if to indicate the entire world. “Since I was deprived of my usual entertainments, I joined Abingdon here.”
“Ah. So Miss Benton was otherwise occupied?” Nick asked with a smirk. At the ball, he’d seen which way the wind blew.
Wessex bared his teeth in the semblance of a grin. “Not in the same manner as Miss Bursnell, no.”
“If you think—” Nick began.
Nathaniel groaned. “Enough! I did not come here for a cockfight. Nick, finish your whiskey. Wessex, don’t be an ass.” He signaled the servant. “A round of brandies, my man.”
Nick drained his glass, accepted the tumbler of brandy, and took a swig, glaring at Wessex as he did so.
The duke just smiled. “As it happens, I know for a fact that Miss Bursnell received a bouquet of roses from at least one lord. I sent them myself.”
It was then that Nick remembered he knew how to kill a man and make it look like an accident. Wessex was no more suitable for Adelaide than Hayworth.
“You will not do so again,” Nick stated. “Miss Bursnell is not to be trifled with.”
The duke’s smile instantly dissolved. He leaned forward. “Who says I am trifling with her?” he asked quietly.
But of course he was. And if he was not, well…that was rather worse, actually.
“Your relationship with Miss Benton speaks volumes,” Nick said.
“My relationship with Miss Benton is none of your affair.”
They stared at one another, each daring the other to go too far.
Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would both be interested to hear that Hayworth also sent roses.” He looked at Nick. “I thought you were friendly with the man. You seemed so at the ball the other night.”
“I am friendly with everyone. That does not mean I am their friend.” And again came the unpleasant image of a dead man’s face, his eyes wide open in surprise. Would it be burned in Nick’s brain forever? He slugged the brandy. “Do you want Hayworth for a brother-in-law?”
“Not particularly,” Nathaniel admitted. He paused. “Montrose sent flowers, as well.”
Nick turned slowly. “Montrose?”
“Surely you find him more agreeable than Hayworth.”
“Quite frankly, yes. We have a business arrangement. In fact, we are meeting tomorrow to discuss it.” Had Nathaniel heard rumors of it yet? His father must have, after spending so much time in Parliament. “I like the man greatly, but I fear they would make an ill match.”
Wessex shrugged. “All accounts of Montrose are favorable. Although…” He swirled his glass, making the amber liquid glow as it caught the light. “Wasn’t there something to do with his daughter? Some kind of scandal? It was years ago, and I don’t recall the details.”
“Likely the details weren’t worth remembering,” Nathaniel said. “Anyway, it is a good match. He is a duke.”
“He is old,” Nick said.
“And still in need of an heir. You can’t expect him to find a lady of his own age to marry. What would be the point?”
The pleasure of her company.
The thought came unbidden, and Nick immediately sent it away again with a hasty gulp of brandy. One did not marry for pleasure. One married for security. And duty.
But he wanted Adelaide to have it all, damn it.
Could Montrose provide that? He was a kind man, generous with praise and affection. He had shown a gentleness with Adelaide that Nick was sorely lacking.
And what of his age? Nick had never met an unhappy widow.
In any case, Montrose wasn’t Hayworth. Or, God forbid, Wessex. Out of the three of them, surely Adelaide would make the correct choice.
Only, she had chosen him once. That did not bode well.
The brandy was making his tongue feel thick and slow. His tolerance for spirits had never been high, as he imbibed so infrequently. His profession had required an agile body and sharp mind, both of which were quickly impaired by drink.
He must speak with her. Tomorrow.
He reached for his glass. Another swallow, two, then three.
No. It had to be tonight.