Chapter Fifteen
Nicholas knocked on the door of Philip’s study. “Do you have a moment?”
“A few,” Philip answered. “What do you need?”
“I’d like to apply to one of the Inns of Court. Mr. Fletcher seems capable and…”
“And I’ve taken on all the rest of the estate work even though I promised I wouldn’t,” Philip said, setting his pen down. It looked suspiciously like he was balancing one of the manor ledgers. Lady Wakefield would be livid, but Nicholas could hardly demand Philip relinquish his birthright.
“I’m not needed,” Nick said honestly. “I’d like to get started being useful somewhere.” He was finally changing his life. Making it his own. And it had given him strength in ways he hadn’t expected.
Philip sighed, nodding. “You’re far from useless. I don’t mention it enough, but if more men in the House of Lords had your intelligence and patience, we wouldn’t be having so many problems. But I’m happy to help. What do you need?”
Nicholas took a moment to recover himself. “I’d like your advice on where to apply, firstly, and then your endorsement once I actually do it.”
“The second is yours. As to the first,”—Philip tapped his chin—“Lincoln is the best, in my opinion. All of them produce fine legal minds, but I think Lincoln does the best job of instilling fundamentals. Plus, I have a few more connections there.”
“Lincoln’s Inn it is.” Saying it out loud was thrilling. He was really going to do this.
“Do you plan to live at the Inn? You’ll get more out of it that way.”
“Somehow I don’t think Lord Wakefield is going to volunteer to pay my lodging.” He still remembered their conversation, even if his father didn’t.
“I’ll pay for it.”
It was Nicholas’s turn to be surprised. “Are you certain?”
Philip leaned forward. “I’ve seen what it’s like for you. We have two sons. One will be the Marquess eventually, but the other—when he comes of age I hope you’ll smooth the path for him to do the same, to be productive and a contribution to the family.”
Nicholas felt himself warm. “Of course.”
“Good,” Philip said, the matter seemingly settled. “I imagine it will be quite difficult. Learn all the things to do and not to do, so you can help your nephew do it better when the time comes.”
“I’d like to get started as soon as possible.” It would take at least three years before he could practice the law. It had seemed like such a long time when he thought of Amelia waiting for him.
“I’ll draft a letter of recommendation right now.”
Letter in hand, Nicholas’s next stop was Lincoln’s Inn. There was no sense wasting any time, since it would take long enough as it was. With any luck, they would have him. If not, he would try the others until someone accepted him. He hailed a hack and ordered the driver to take him to Chancery Lane.
It deposited him in front of the brick wall surrounding the Inn. Nicholas wasn’t entirely sure where to start, so he figured he might as well try the hall. He was lucky enough to find an older, robed gentleman passing through the other direction.
The words came so easily, like he’d long been ready for them. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know who I might speak to about attending?”
The man looked him over and nodded. “Hilary term has already started. You can see about Trinity term, though. What is your name?”
“Nicholas Wakefield.”
The man squinted. “The Marquess of Wakefield’s son?”
“Yes, sir.” Nicholas wasn’t sure if this man knowing his father was favorable or not.
“You’re Viscount Melton’s brother, then. Good man. Takes his seat in Lords seriously.”
Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. “He does, indeed. I have a letter of endorsement from him.”
The man took it, looking Nicholas up and down again. “You mean to apply yourself with the same dedication?”
“I do, sir.” He stepped closer. “I’d like to live at the Inn and learn as much I can.”
The man’s eyebrows raised. He made a thoughtful humming sound. “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your direction?”
“I’m staying with my brother, near Charing Cross.”
The man nodded. “You’ll have an answer by week’s end.”
Nicholas left the Inn feeling better than he had in days, weeks maybe. It gave him the courage to write to Amelia. He was finally following his dream and no matter what was between them, she was the only person he wanted to share it with.
Waiting for Nicholas was one of the most nerve wracking things Amelia had ever had to do, which was saying quite a bit considering her recent activities. He’d written asking if he could see her and she had responded, telling him he could. Since then, the minutes had ticked by with excruciating slowness. Every creak of the house sent her head whipping around, checking her bedroom door.
The house creaked and Amelia’s gaze snapped to the door again. This time it really was Nicholas. The evening damp had curled the ends of his hair and darkened his eyelashes. His collar was up against the cold. Amelia’s heart thudded in her chest so loud she was certain he could hear it.
He shut the door behind him.
“Hullo,” she said quietly.
“Hullo,” he said back. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me.”
“You might not be after we talk.”
“Even then, I’ll still be glad.”
Amelia stood up. She’d intended to pace the floor to help her say what she needed to say, but instead she drifted toward Nick like he had some sort of gravitational pull. “I haven’t changed my mind about marriage.”
“I know.”
He did? “I want you to know, I’ve never cared that you don’t have a title.”
Nicholas held his fingers up to her lips. The shock of the contact surprised them both. “I let my insecurities run away with me. I know you better than that.”
Amelia found her voice. “And now you’re here.”
He nodded.
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
The movement of his throat as he swallowed was mesmerizing. “I still want to marry you. I always will. But what I want isn’t the only thing to consider. If you’re still interested in pursuing an affair…”
His words died off as she leaned in close, lips a hair’s breadth from his. The deep rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in drew her hand up in fascination. She played her fingers along the edges of his cravat. “I’m still interested. Are you certain?”
His hand brushed her rib cage. His thumb whispered against the underside of her breast. “It is not in my power to deny you.”
She couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t talk anymore, with him touching her like that. Every inch of her was charged with lightning and she needed to let out. “How do we— Where do we start?”
Nicholas used his hand to guide her around until her back was against the door. “You want to begin right now?”
Amelia nodded.
“So be it.” He kissed her. He buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her senseless. The solid muscle of his thigh was between her legs and she clung to him for support. Nicholas picked up right where they’d left off in the parlor as if no time had passed, leaving her dazed and overwhelmed with the pleasure arcing through her body.
When he let them both up for air, her bones felt like liquid. How could she feel so safe and so completely undone at the same time? He held her close, but she felt like she’d lost her hold on the earth. This time, when she leaned in to kiss him again, he didn’t stop her.
Where do we start? Amelia would be the death of him. Her boldness and her innocence would bring him to his knees with their perfect contradictions. She might not want his name, but she wanted him. He would give her everything in his power to give.
Nick had thought to slow things down, coming up for air, but she wasn’t having it. One look from her through those impossibly thick eyelashes and he was helpless. She slid her palms inside his jacket and he lost all semblance of control.
Nicholas captured her hands, trapping them above her head. This new Amelia, queen of scandal, was not so easily tamed. She leaned back against the door and shifted herself against his thigh. Once. Twice. A third time. A flush crept up her chest and her expression turned languid.
Good God. “Amelia.”
“There’s something about this, isn’t there?” she asked, rocking against him. “You keep putting your leg there and it feels impossibly wicked.”
Nicholas leaned in, burying his face against the side of her neck while he tried to catch his breath. The honeysuckle smell of her filled his nose. Amelia kissed the edge of his jaw, the sensitive skin beneath his ear.
“I’ll show you, if you want,” he promised.
He felt her smile against his neck. Nicholas took one last deep breath and commended himself to the devil. Kissing her wrists, he let them go and sank down to his knees on the carpet. He slipped his hands under her dress, rubbing them lightly against the skin of her ankles.
Amelia’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t say a word.
Nicholas stroked up the sides of her calves. Goosebumps sprang up under his fingertips. His hands reached her knees—even her kneecaps were perfect—and nudged them apart.
A tiny squeak escaped her. Her knuckles were white against the inlay of the door.
“Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Amelia?”
“I’m all right. It’s just new. Don’t stop.” The words came out breathy.
He cleared his throat. “Tell me if anything frightens you or doesn’t feel good.”
“I will, but Nicholas?”
“Yes?”
“It all feels wonderful.”
Nicholas groaned. He pushed her knees a bit farther apart, setting her off-balance against the door. The soft skin of her inner thighs was under his palms. He took his time—stroking lightly, kneading the tension from her muscles.
She moaned when his thumbs brushed against the curls at her apex.
Nicholas stood up, the weight of her skirts trapped up against his forearm. He took her hand, massaging the tension from her palm while his other hand stayed poised at her entrance.
“We can stop. We don’t have to do this now.”
“Nicholas, if you stop I will kill you.”
Her certainty undid him. Leaning down to kiss her, he slid his fingers forward. Silky wetness met them and it was his turn to moan. His Amelia; so incredibly, wonderfully perfect. He stroked in a slow back and forth motion, helping her explore the sensation. She shifted her hips against his hand and increased the pace, a steady stream of cries being swallowed by their joined lips. Nicholas could feel the tension building in her. More than anything, he needed her to come apart in his arms.
Adjusting his position, he started light circles against the collection of nerves that he knew would take her there. His first finger made a shallow inquest, and he felt her clench around the sudden intrusion. Amelia’s head dropped back against the door. She gasped.
“Shh,” he cautioned, working her body to a frenzy with his fingers.
She clapped her own hands against her mouth and bucked against the doorway as she rode the rising pleasure. Everything about watching her was magnificent. She was completely lost, abandoned to the sensations. As she crested the peak, poised to come crashing down, her eyes met his. Her pupils dilated, fear and wonder meeting before her eyelids slammed shut and she shuddered against him.
Nicholas held her close as she made her way back to rational thought.
“That was incredible,” she whispered.
Downstairs, the front door closed. Lord and Lady Bishop’s voices reverberated through the house.
“I have to go,” Nicholas whispered. “Was it what you wanted?”
“More than I knew,” she said, still looking half lost as she stared into his eyes.
He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, careful not to start them off anew. “Then I’m happy to have been of service.”
If an excruciating feeling of loneliness took root in his chest as he slipped back down the stairs and left her behind, that was just the price he would pay to be the man she needed.
Jasper was going to kill her, but she didn’t care.
Nick’s visit and the events that followed had locked Amelia’s resolve into place in a way it hadn’t been before. She needed to be with him. She needed to be free of Embry and to have the time to explore what was happening between them.
Whatever she must do to make that happen, including stealing Jasper’s invitation to la balle du pécheur, she would do. It was time to put an end to this nonsense.
Amelia pulled the hood of her cloak farther over her face before she stepped out of the hired carriage. It was broad daylight. If anyone recognized her she would be in the worst sort of trouble. Walking up the steps of the townhouse, she steeled herself. It was just a knocker. She could sound it. Men did it all the time.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Goodness. Her heart was pounding like she’d sounded the opening volley in a battle.
The door opened and Lord Bellamy’s butler appeared in front of her. “Yes?”
“Is Lord Bellamy at home?” Amelia knew that he wasn’t. He’d told her he had luncheon with his grandmother.
“He is not.”
Amelia checked to be sure no one was on the street to see her and lowered her hood. “Do you remember me?”
Disapproval emanated from the man. “I do, Lady Amelia.”
“I am deeply sorry for my previous behavior. I have never been intoxicated before.” This was the tricky part. Amelia had never been a very good liar. “The trouble is, I left something extremely valuable here and I need to retrieve it.”
“Perhaps you should come back when Lord Bellamy is at home.” The butler glared down at her and added, “With a proper escort.”
Looking embarrassed wasn’t difficult, because she was. “I’d like to, I really would. Only, the thing I left was a gift from my fiancé and he expects to see it when I see him in an hour.”
The butler blinked at her.
“If I don’t have it, I’ll be forced to tell him where it is.”
For a moment it looked as though he might refuse her. He ought to have. What in the bloody hell was she thinking, coming here? In the end, though, he seemed to have more care for his employer’s reputation than Jasper did himself.
The butler ushered her inside and shut the door. “What are you looking for and where did you leave it?”
“A necklace, with a big pink sapphire. As to where.” Amelia did her best to look apologetic. It wasn’t difficult. “I’m afraid most of my memory of the evening is a bit muddled. I think I was in the study?”
The depth of his frown lines made them appear etched in his face. “This way.”
Amelia searched the room under his eagle eye. She took her time, waiting for the second half of her haphazard plan to take effect. Eventually an unholy pounding started up on the door. The butler swiveled, looking for all the world like he wanted to glare the noise into silence.
He looked back at Amelia as she was crawling her way around the room searching under furniture. He sighed. “I will return shortly.”
Once he was gone, she hopped up and went to Jasper’s desk. There was a stack of invitations to one side. It didn’t take long to find the one she wanted. All the rest looked like the usual sort of invitations, but one of them at the bottom of the pile was black with no sender and no explanation. Only an address and a date written in white.
La balle du pécheur. Surely if it was as wicked as Jasper said, Embry would have no choice but to throw her over. Embry’s stubborn refusal to listen to her was frustrating, but the frightening intensity of their last interaction had inspired Amelia to desperation. If attending the sinner’s ball would free Amelia from her engagement, she would do it.
She heard footsteps in the hall and dropped back down to the carpet.
“Lady Amelia?”
She popped back up, pulling the necklace from the pocket sewn inside her cloak and slipping the invitation inside. “I found it!”
“Your hired carriage is outside. The driver is insisting you must leave now if you’re to make your next appointment.”
“Of course. I musn’t be late or there will be questions.” She hurried from the room, nerve endings on high alert, certain the butler would somehow know. “Thank you so much for helping me.”
“Think nothing of it, miss.” The set of his mouth gave Amelia the impression he’d like to forget it had happened entirely.
“Everything is sorted,” she called up to the coachman. “Let’s be off.”
More than sorted. The driver had done his part marvelously. She’d promised him double the fare, but she ought to throw a bit more on top. Everything had gone according to plan.
Every dress Amelia owned was laid out on the various surfaces of her bedroom. She was standing in the middle of them, frowning.
“None of these look particularly sinful,” she told Julia.
“Whose fault is that?” Julia answered from her place on the bed. “Remember this moment the next time we’re dress shopping and you’re refusing to order anything interesting.”
“I don’t usually need anything interesting.”
“Until you do. It’s always good to have something unexpected to hand.”
Amelia couldn’t argue. She’d already been saved once by Julia’s predilection for inappropriate clothing. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I do this and it still doesn’t put Embry off?”
“Then we will try something else.”
And something else, and something else, and something further still. Whatever she must.
“I stole from Jasper.” To give her and Nick a chance. To be free. But it was all so selfish. What if she was wrong? What if having an affair with Nick was a mistake, and she destroyed their friendship? “I don’t know who I’m becoming, Julia.”
“Pretending to become, more’s the pity. If this were an actual change of temperament, I would rejoice.” Julia leaned off the edge of the bed, flashing teal stockings as she sifted through a pile of cotton day dresses with a scowl.
“How do you know it’s not?”
Julia lifted her head. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”
“Home,” Amelia answered instantly.
“Do you know where I would be?”
Amelia shook her head.
“Beijing.”
“You would not.”
“I would.”
“Doing what?”
Julia shrugged. “Who knows? Seeing sights. Meeting people. Lounging in a cloud of opium smoke. I could be doing anything.”
“You wouldn’t actually go.” The whole notion sounded terrifying.
“Yes, I would,” Julia pinned Amelia with a serious stare and a raised finger. “And that’s the point. You like to think about art and faraway places, but your heart is at home. No matter how many wicked things you do, you’ll always secretly be sitting with a teacup and a book.”
God, what she wouldn’t give to be sitting in the window seat in her bedroom at home right now reading. “Am I the docile homebody Embry thinks I am?”
“Homebody, absolutely. Docile? Never. You’re still my sister, after all.”
“High praise.”
“The highest. Montrose thinks he can wrap you up and box you in to being just one way. You are a member of the scandalous Bishop family. We accept no limitations, regardless of our natural predilections.”
Amelia laughed as she always did when Julia started waxing lyrical on the virtues of their status as outcasts. “All right, I believe you, but I still don’t have anything to wear.”
“I think I know what’s missing,” Julia declared.
Thank goodness. “Oh?”
“We’ve only dragged out the dresses.”
What else would they drag out? The only other things she had were trousers. She realized belatedly that was what Julia meant. “I can’t wear the riding costume to a ball.”
“Not exactly as you did before. That would be boring. But if we use the trousers for something, you would be immediately recognized without having to take off your mask.”
So much for the window seat and the book. Nicholas’s poor tailor was going to have an apoplexy when he heard she’d gone back out in his creation. At least it wouldn’t be quite so public this time.
Julia’s face lit up with inspiration. “I’ve got it. I know exactly what your costume will be.”