Chapter Three
“How do I look, Bertie?”
“Exceptionally capable, my lord.”
Nicholas grinned at him in the gilt-edged mirror over the dressing table. The corner of Bertram’s mouth twitched up.
“All right, then. Time to fulfill my glorious destiny.”
The meeting with his father and the estate agent would take place in the study. Nicholas had to admit a certain thrill of anticipation. True responsibility would do wonders for keeping his mind off Amelia’s impending marriage. Once he knew the extent of what needed to be done, he would find a way to make time for studying as a barrister. He could do both. He could be there for his family and follow his dream.
“Lord Nicholas.” Smithson appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “This arrived for you with the morning post.”
Nicholas took the folded sheet of paper. He would have left it for later, but the seal promised it would be short. Lord Bellamy despised writing.
Nick,
Paris is dismal without you. Last night I drank alone at Marcelles. Come back at once.
Jas
P.S. Claudette also demands your return. Her claim is obviously inferior to my own, but if lures of the flesh will accomplish what friendship cannot, so be it.
He smiled. Unfortunately, Jasper would have to accept disappointment, as would the talented Claudette. Nick had a job to do. His arrival in the study, however, threw him immediately off balance. A man he’d never seen before was sorting through the papers on the desk. The desk that belonged to Nicholas’s father, and his grandfather before that.
He looked up when he heard Nick enter. “Lord Nicholas, I presume?”
He did not appear to be an intruder, but he was still a stranger to Nick. “You presume correctly. Who are you?”
“David Fletcher, my lord. I’m the estate agent.”
“What happened to Dickson?”
“He retired about six months ago, my lord. I was hired to replace him.”
Six months ago. “Was it because…”
Mr. Fletcher’s expression smoothed into one of extreme tact. “I believe it was difficult for him to adjust to the new situation, my lord.”
His father’s condition. “How bad is it?”
The estate agent spent a moment considering the tips of his shoes. His answer was interrupted by the arrival of Lord Wakefield.
“Nicholas! When did you get back?”
“I’ve been home all mor—”
Lord Wakefield rang the bell pull. “We must tell your mother. She’s been on about bringing you back from the continent for months. I told her you’d come back when you were ready, and here you are.”
Surprise struck Nicholas like a blow to the gut. His father didn’t remember speaking with him yesterday. It was one thing to have his parents tell him calmly that his father was forgetting things, but quite another to have it so vividly proven.
Mr. Fletcher stepped in. “You did summon him back, Lord Wakefield. He arrived yesterday. You set a meeting for the three of us to discuss Lord Nicholas taking on some of the estate running.”
Confusion clouded Lord Wakefield’s face. “I did?”
“You did.” The estate agent was the soul of patience. “Would you like to reschedule for a different day?”
“No, no. I don’t want to…” Lord Wakefield stared around the room, settling on the painting of his favorite hunting dog that hung on the far wall. He smiled. “Of course that’s what happened. I remember now.”
The emptiness of his smile made it obvious that he did not.
Smithson arrived in answer to the pull. “My lord?”
Lord Wakefield stared at him, struggling with his own mind. “I…”
The butler and the estate agent exchanged looks.
“My lord,” Smithson began gently. “Lady Wakefield requested your presence in the garden. It seemed rather urgent.”
Mr. Fletcher selected a stack of papers from the desk. “I have the detailed notes you wrote for Lord Nicholas. If you need to leave, we can probably manage and give you an update after, my lord.”
“Yes, I think that would be best.” Lord Wakefield nodded, taking the offered excuse. “I should go find my wife.”
When he’d gone, with Smithson in tow, Nicholas lowered himself into a chair on the visitor’s side of the desk. It felt like his legs didn’t want to carry him anymore.
His formidable father. One of the leaders of the country and the irrefutable leader of their family.
A tumbler of whiskey appeared in front of him.
“I shouldn’t. It’s not even midday yet.”
“Some days are longer than others,” Mr. Fletcher countered.
Nicholas took the glass. “How often does that happen?”
Fletcher sat in the chair next to him, leaving the desk chair empty. “More than it used to. One day in ten now. It used to be once a month, maybe.”
One day in ten, and it was getting worse.
“On the good days, we plan. He writes things down, just in case. On the bad days…”
“You and Smithson manage him.”
“Lady Wakefield mostly. We have a system. It seems to help him to be outside on the bad days.”
It was too much for Nick to try to process all at once. The change in his father. The kindness of this stranger. The sudden, uncharacteristic sympathy he felt for his mother. Lady Wakefield was a hard woman, but he couldn’t imagine how it had been for her here, alone. She wouldn’t have confided in the staff easily, not his endlessly proper mother, and she had no one else.
Nicholas swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and took a deep breath. “Well, it sounds like we’d better get started, then.”
“Mia, did you hear me?”
Amelia held up her hand, blocking out her sister until she could reach the end of her paragraph. Usually the ballroom could be counted on for a quiet place to read uninterrupted—it wasn’t like they used it for anything other than storage—but apparently her sanctuary was one more casualty of the impending engagement party. When the derelict furniture had been hauled away and her mother had set the maids to work shining the parquet, peace was no longer an option.
She marked her place and closed the book. “What?”
Julia splayed her hands behind her and leaned back against a column. “I said, he’s here.”
“Nicholas?”
She rolled her eyes. “Your fiancé, you muttonhead.”
Embry was here? “He’s not supposed to visit until…”
“Today,” Julia interrupted. “And you’re not even dressed.”
Amelia looked down at her cotton day dress. “I am so.”
“Not for a visit from your intended.”
“It’s daytime. What’s wrong with wearing a day dress in the daytime?”
Lady Bishop breezed into the room. “Amelia, Lord Montrose is in the driveway and I—why aren’t you dressed?”
“For goodness sake.” Amelia set her book down with a thump. “I’m hardly lounging in the nude.”
Her mother was not in the mood to be amused. “Go upstairs and put on something appropriate. Julia, help her.”
Julia coughed out a surprised sound. It was usually Amelia being ordered to assist Julia.
“Go. Now. And hurry, before he gets to the foyer and sees you on the stairs!”
“Hurrying isn’t really my bailiwick, Mother.”
“I swear to you both, if this engagement is ruined because your father has let you run amok like hoydens…”
“Then we’ll be pampered and adored for the rest of our lives?” Julia grinned at Amelia as Lady Bishop expelled a sound of extreme frustration and they fled the room.
“Are you ready to be the favorite again?” Amelia asked as they climbed the stairs.
“I doubt I could be. Apparently being unmarriageable has relegated me to the position of your lady’s maid.”
“You don’t have to help. I can manage.”
“You can’t, actually. You still think that’s an acceptable dress to greet your fiancé in.”
“It is!”
Julia stumbled as they reached the top step. On reflex, Amelia caught her. The stumble wasn’t a bad one, only the usual sort.
“You’re hopeless,” Julia said as she made the right turn down the hall toward Amelia’s bedroom.
“What would you have me wear, then?” Amelia demanded.
“The lavender gown.”
“Without a corset? It would look ridiculous.”
Julia answered her with silence.
“Truly?” Amelia groaned. She hated corsets. Without visitors or formal occasions, she managed to avoid wearing one most of the time.
“If you go back down there without a corset, regardless of which dress, Mother is going to have an apoplexy on the spot.”
They entered Amelia’s room. Julia went to the wardrobe and began searching through its contents.
Flopping onto her bed, Amelia suggested, “What if I don’t go back down at all?”
“Then Lady Bishop’s mortification shall immolate this entire household, us included.”
Amelia scowled at the ceiling.
“Also,” Julia said, depositing a corset and a pile of petticoats on the bedcover. “Your ridiculously handsome fiancé will assume you don’t want to see him, probably throw you over, and destine you to a life of spinsterhood.”
Amelia dangled the corset off her index finger. “Do spinsters have to wear corsets?”
“Constantly.”
“Liar.” With a sigh, Amelia stood up and let Julia undo her day dress. “This whole being engaged business is turning out to be a lot more disruptive than I imagined.”
“Oh?” Julia started cinching the corset with unkind force. “I didn’t realize you had something planned for today other than reading and daydreaming out of windows.”
“Reading and daydreaming are vital activities for my health and happiness.”
“As I said: muttonhead.”
Amelia grinned, stepping into the petticoats.
The girls sat across from Embry in the parlor. Amelia was dutifully attired in the lavender gown, complete with hated corset, that brought out the chestnut tones in her otherwise mouse-brown hair. She doubted Embry noticed, but at least her mother appeared pleased.
As she sat silently, she couldn’t stop herself from comparing him to Nicholas. Embry was older by almost a decade and it showed in little ways on his face. Rougher skin, a line between the eyebrows, deeper grooves around the edge of his mouth. They shared dark hair and a quietness, but Embry’s was more serious than the flirtatious teasing of Nicholas’s charm.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Lord Montrose,” Lady Bishop was saying. “Amelia has been anticipating your visit all week.”
They were a family of liars. Her father was the only honest one in the lot.
“As have I.” Embry’s attention was settled firmly on Amelia.
Amelia squirmed, trying to dislodge the corset boning from her spleen.
Lady Bishop continued, oblivious. “What did you have planned for today?”
“I thought your daughters and I could go for a walk down to the meadow. It could be quite nice to take our midday meal by the stream.”
“It’s quite a long walk. Perhaps we could ride?” After the wince during their stair climb, Amelia doubted Julia would be able to make the distance without pain.
Embry frowned. “If we must. I’ve been in the saddle all morning and would like to stretch my legs.”
“Perhaps once we get there, we could walk.”
Julia interrupted him with a chipper expression that didn’t match her tone. “My sister is trying to spare my dignity by not telling you the walk is too long for me.”
“Oh.” Embry frowned. For a moment it looked like disapproval. “Of course, we can ride or stay indoors. I didn’t realize.”
It must have been disappointment. He seemed to get on well enough with Julia, so it would be silly for him to mind her company.
Lady Bishop put her hand on Embry’s forearm. “You need a stroll. Julia doesn’t have to go. Unless you’d like to use the bath chair, Julia?”
Both sisters stared at their mother in shock. Julia hated nothing in life more than she hated the wheeled chair and how it made her look and feel like an invalid. Everyone in the household knew it.
“Mother,” Amelia warned.
Lady Bishop’s expression tightened as she stared at Julia and she made an almost imperceptible gesture with her head between Amelia and Embry.
“I don’t have to go.” Julia’s tense delivery would have been comical under different circumstances.
Embry watched all three Bishop women with growing concern. “We can stay here. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out.”
Julia ceased the staring contest with their mother and smiled at Embry. “It’s all right. Really. I wasn’t feeling well anyway.”
“Amelia?” he asked. “What would you like to do?”
Strangle her mother, but that would undoubtedly make the situation even more awkward. It wasn’t Embry’s fault Lady Bishop was completely ridiculous.
Julia answered for her. “Amelia adores country walks, especially in the meadow.”
“Julia.”
“Honestly. No matter what you decide to do, I’ll be going to my room for a lie down.”
“That settles it,” Lady Bishop announced, clapping her hands. “I’ll have cook prepare a basket.”
Walking back to the house with Embry, Amelia was ashamed to admit it had been nice. Too nice. For a moment, she’d forgotten all about her mother’s awful behavior and how angry Julia must be, and just enjoyed the peacefulness.
During the stroll, she and Embry hadn’t had much to say to each other. Amelia had worried about that, but maybe it was all right. She didn’t mind silence, liked it even, especially after a lifetime of her mother’s hysterics and Julia’s cutting wit.
Maybe she and Embry truly would be happy together.
When they stepped onto the terrace, Amelia stopped him. “Let’s not go in yet.”
His concern was immediate. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” Amelia assured him. “I’m just enjoying your company.”
The obvious pleasure he took from her confession made Amelia smile. No one had ever valued her good opinion before, except maybe Nicholas, and he didn’t count.
“I have something for you,” Embry said abruptly.
“Oh? What sort of something?”
Embry reached into his waistcoat and removed a bundle wrapped in silk. He flattened his hand and unfolded it, revealing an oval pendant with gold filigree. Pink sapphire and pearl dominated the piece, with tiny flashes of diamonds glinting in the sunlight. “It was my mother’s.”
It was beautiful. It also didn’t suit Amelia in the slightest. She pushed the thought down. He’d brought her something that was clearly very important to him. The spirit of the gift was what mattered. “It’s lovely.”
“The first day we talked after my carriage broke down, I knew I wanted to give it to you.” He moved to put it on her. When it settled against her dress, the disparity in styles became apparent, even to Embry. “Doesn’t quite suit, does it?”
“Through no fault of your gift, I assure you.” Amelia stared at her feet so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.
Embry frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought it would—”
“Don’t apologize. I have plenty of dresses that will suit it marvelously.” She didn’t, actually, but she didn’t want him to feel bad.
The frown cleared and he nodded. “That’s good, then.”
“I’ll just hide it for now.” As she tucked the pendant into her bodice, Amelia’s arm brushed his waistcoat. She realized how close they were standing.
Embry’s gaze was locked on the shadowed space between her breasts where the pendant had disappeared. It was as good a time as any.
“Embry, may I speak candidly?”
“I hope you will, always.”
“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”
His eyes raised, searching her face before answering. “Yes.”
It wasn’t quite wicked whispers, but it was a start. The intensity of his attention filled the space between them, making the air feel thicker. Amelia touched her tongue to her lips and his eyes followed it. The faintest of tingles started under her skin.
“Would you like to kiss me now?” she asked.
“Very much.” He brought his hand up, running his thumb along the edge of her chin. “But it wouldn’t be proper.”
Amelia leaned into his touch. It was nice. Her body wasn’t humming the way it had been yesterday, but there was certainly something happening. “Could we be a little improper? I’ve never been kissed and I—”
His lips interrupted her.
It was late afternoon when Nicholas left the study and he was exhausted. There was only one person who would understand all of the feelings he couldn’t quite find words for. He promised himself he was only going to talk to his friend. He wouldn’t do something foolish, like try to kiss her again. Not that Amelia would notice. She had a remarkable knack for attributing his romantic gestures to playful teasing.
He crossed his property onto the Bishop estate and let himself in. Today, it was a good thing the Bishop household treated him like a member of the family. The staff were rushing around in a frenzy, cleaning and moving things in preparation for the engagement party. If he’d waited for someone to notice and announce him, he might have waited all day.
He found Julia first, in the upstairs library, leaning precariously over the back of an armchair with her head angled to an open window.
“The house is in a flurry. Do you know—”
“Shh!” She nearly tipped herself and the chair over in the process of shushing him. “They’ll hear you.”
“If only this were the most ridiculous position I’d ever found you in,” he answered in a loud whisper. “Who will hear?”
“Amelia and Embry.”
The serious fiancé? They were together, down there. Were they affectionate? Did Amelia laugh musically and touch his arm like she did with Nicholas? He crossed to Julia’s eavesdropping spot. “When did he get here?”
“This morning.”
“What does he want?”
“Amelia, judging by his offer of marriage.”
“Low blow, Bishop.” A brief moral debate occurred inside Nicholas. He should mind his own business. Amelia’s relationship with Embry was private. He didn’t have any right to assuage the burning need to see how they were together. “Scoot over.”
“You won’t fit.”
“I will if you scoot over.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling as she edged to one side of the seat cushion. “Remember that time in the hayloft when we made you—”
“Shh!” Nicholas adjusted until he could see the couple standing on the terrace below. “What are they doing down there?”
“We don’t know. Mother’s in fits thinking Embry’s trying to call off the engagement.”
Hope surged inside him. He squashed it down. “Why would he do that?”
“Because we’re unmannered wantons.”
“Well, obviously.” Nicholas grinned as he dodged the elbow she tried to jab into his ribs. “But surely he knew that before today.”
Below them, Montrose reached into his waistcoat and pulled out something wrapped in silk. When he uncovered it, Julia let out a soft whistle. “Pretty.”
“It doesn’t suit her at all.” If Nicholas ever brought Amelia jewelry, it would be delicately made with brilliant sapphires, not some heavy antique.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be watching this,” Julia said. “It’s certain to upset you.”
Upset him? Like he was still in the nursery and someone had denied him a sweet? “I am a grown man.”
“You’re in love with my sister. Torturing yourself is perverse.”
“And you’re not torturing yourself?”
“Of course I am,” she said, attention riveted to the scene below. “But we already knew I was perverse. You, we still had hope for.”
“I will worry about myself, thank you very much.”
“As you wish.”
It was possible Nicholas had spoken too soon. As they watched, Montrose reached for Amelia’s cheek. He had to turn away when Amelia’s face was blocked out by Montrose lowering his head to kiss her.
Julia’s gasp was full of degenerate glee.
The curse that left his lips at full volume didn’t even register for Nicholas until Julia ducked down and speared him with a glare.
“For God’s sake.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Unless the curse had been loud enough for them to hear on the terrace and had disrupted the kiss by some miracle. Then, he was delighted.
She twisted, sharing the chair with him in an awkward slump. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”
“What’s he even doing kissing her? It’s highly inappropriate.”
“Remember the first time you tried to kiss Mia?”
Unfortunately. “No.”
“Liar.” Julia grinned. “She was so happy with her new dress Papa brought her and she looked quite nice.”
“Perfect,” Nick corrected. “She looked perfect.”
Julia snickered. “How could you not have realized how much mud you’d picked up crossing the property?”
“I was distracted.” Nick had been captivated by the sun glinting off Amelia’s hair, the way her face lit up making it seem like all the sweetness of her was bursting free—he’d been in a trance. When he’d moved to touch her…
“I honestly never knew she was that strong. With how hard she shoved you, I thought we’d have to call a doctor for sure.”
The bruises from his fall over the retaining wall had been nothing compared to the bruise to his pride. And neither of those held a candle to the agony of watching some other man get to be her first kiss. “She can’t marry him.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Has something fundamental changed about your circumstances to make it possible for you to honorably pursue my sister?”
Nicholas could not say that it had. His willingness to stand up to his parents on the issue had certainly changed, but his ability to provide for her and his station in life remained the same. He was still a second son. A redundancy. His livelihood relied on the goodwill of his parents, and they would never approve of Amelia.
“I didn’t think so. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Give it up, Nick.”
“I have.”
“Obviously not. There’s no future for her with you. Leave it alone. Don’t ruin what will likely be her only chance at a normal life.”
Julia was right. Nicholas couldn’t give her what Montrose could. With Nick, there would be no title and no security. It would be a hard life, full of uncertainty.
If he truly loved her, he would let her be happy without him. It didn’t matter that he’d written her letters every day. It didn’t matter that he’d loved her with every breath in his body since the day they met. That was the past—their past—but the happiest future for her was clearly with Montrose.
After Embry left, Amelia went straight to her room to reflect on the events of the afternoon. However, instead of privacy, she found Julia leafing through the book she’d left on her bedside table.
“Oh, for goodness—”
“Don’t even start. After everything I’ve put up with today, there’s no chance you’re not telling me every possible detail.” Julia patted the bedside in invitation.
Amelia stomped over with as little grace as possible. There would be no dissuading Julia, and Amelia hardly planned to keep it to herself. She’d just hoped to have little time to consider how she felt on her own first.
Julia smiled. “So. Lord Montrose kissed you.”
“Yes.”
“How did it happen? Were you expecting it?”
“I should hope so. I asked him to.”
“You what?” Julia grabbed her by the shoulders. “Amelia Marie Bishop. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I just wanted to know.” Amelia stared down at her lap.
Julia watched her. “It didn’t end up how you wanted it to.”
Amelia shrugged. She couldn’t say if it had or it hadn’t. It hadn’t been bad, certainly.
“What happened?”
“I thought it would make me…tingly.”
Julia raised an eyebrow.
Amelia rushed on to avoid having to explain that particular discovery. “And at first it was nice. His lips were against mine and it was sweet. There was a definite chance for tingles.”
“And then?”
“And then he swallowed me? His tongue was in my mouth and it was so strange and I could barely breathe and it was… it was a lot. A lot all at once.”
“His tongue—in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” Amelia threw her arms up in a general plea to the universe.
Julia considered the issue with her usual pragmatism. She folded her hands in her lap and pinned Amelia with a focused stare. “Did Embry seem to enjoy it?”
“Yes. Very much. Perhaps too much.”
“How do you mean?”
“He was out of breath and afterward, he, erm, apologized for his ardor.”
“That’s good, then.” Julia nodded. “Obviously you were decent enough at it if you inspired him to passion.”
Amelia had rather hoped to be inspired to her own ardor. It would have cleared up a few concerns rattling around in her head regarding her new reaction to Nicholas. Instead, it had only confused things even further.
“So tell me about these tingles you were hoping for.”
Oh, bother. “It’s nothing.”
“Clearly, it’s not. It’s not like you to ask Embry to kiss you, but you did. Because of this tingly notion.”
Absolutely nothing was sacred when your sister was a busybody know-it-all. Not a single thing. But why hadn’t her reaction to Embry been more exciting? “When Nicholas and I walked to the woods—”
“You bloody idiots. Did he kiss you?”
“No!” Amelia fell back on the bed. “But I think he almost did. I was leaning in and he was leaning in, and then suddenly it was all dreadfully intense.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Julia fell back beside her, shaking her head.
Amelia put her hands over her face. “What do I do, Julia? What if Embry never gives me tingles?”
Julia wasn’t listening. She was too busy muttering at the ceiling. “I knew something had happened. When Nicholas came over today and heard Embry was here. I should have known. I should have put a stop to it.”
“Nicholas was here? Today?”
“Bloody idiot. I told him he didn’t want to watch.”
“You were watching us?” Amelia turned on her side. “Julia!”
“Oh please. Don’t pretend you’re surprised.”
“How could you let Nicholas…” Amelia trailed off. She was back in that murky territory. Why shouldn’t Nicholas see her kiss her fiancé? Nor was it unusual for Julia to include Nicholas. The three of them had been inseparable since Amelia was six years old. Until Nicholas went away, they were as close as a trio as Amelia and Julia were on their own.
“This is a disaster, Amelia.”
“It is.”
“Well,” Julia said, sitting up with purpose. “You must come to your senses, forget about tingles, and forget about Nicholas Wakefield.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Nicholas is my friend.”
“A friend you have an attraction toward.”
Amelia couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her face. “Nicholas is attractive. Don’t tell me you don’t find him handsome.”
“I’m not engaged. I can find whoever I fancy handsome.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Julia said. She pointed at Amelia, all traces of humor gone. “Forget Nicholas. Marry Embry.”
“Obviously I’m going to marry Embry.” It wasn’t like anyone else was offering.
Julia tipped Amelia’s chin toward her, forcing their eyes to meet. “Good.”
“Good.”
“That’s settled, then.”
“It is.” Only it didn’t feel settled. In the place at Amelia’s center where the tingles started anytime she thought about Nicholas, it was anything but settled.
Nicholas spooned his soup quietly, lost in thought. Everything was going wrong. Amelia was kissing men—specifically, men who weren’t Nicholas. His father was so much worse than his parents had let on. Should he tell Phillip? Could he even do this?
Lady Wakefield had her own concerns. “You visited that girl. Again.”
“I did.”
Silverware clattered against the Limoges china. She glared across the table at his father. “Arthur.”
“Hmm?”
“He’s visiting the neighbors.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is not nice.” Her mouth clamped shut, but she was practically vibrating from the strain.
Nicholas knew he couldn’t soothe her without lying, but he tried anyway. “They’re my friends, Mother.”
She shook her head, refusing to speak to him.
“I’ve had a letter from Philip,” Lord Wakefield announced, oblivious to the discord across the table. “Caroline gave birth to another boy.”
Yes, she had. Two years ago. Lord Wakefield was still trapped in the past. Smithson had explained that he could come out of it at any moment, but it hadn’t happened yet. Lady Wakefield’s anger dissolved in a flash. Her hands shook as she raised her glass to her lips, and she held her napkin a little too tightly.
Why did everything have to become so complicated? He hated his mother’s disdain for the Bishops. If he was being honest, he’d almost hated her some days. She was so rigid. But now even that was clouded. She loved his father, and his father was disappearing. If Amelia suddenly couldn’t remember…he couldn’t even complete the thought. His brain rejected it entirely. Besides, she wasn’t his to worry over. By the time that became a concern, she would be decades into her marriage with Montrose and she’d have forgotten all about Nicholas, with or without the help of an ailing mind.
But if she were his to worry about, how would he feel? Nicholas slid his hand across the table, covering his mother’s small palm. It was fragile. He could feel every tiny bone under her thin skin. When had his parents become old?
She gripped his fingers back with painful force. “That’s lovely, Arthur. Such good news.”
The next course came in and she let go abruptly.
“Mother…”
She plastered a smile on her face and addressed the footman. “Please tell Cook the soup was very nice.”
They consumed the rest of the courses in dismal silence. If challenged, Nicholas couldn’t have told anyone what he was eating. When the last of the plates had been taken away and they retired to the drawing room, his mother stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Please remember that your real family needs you now.”
Nicholas looked up. There were tears pooling on her lower lids, threatening to fall. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That girl—”
He covered her hand again. It was the most physical contact he’d had with his mother since he’d left the nursery. “I’m here. I’ll be here as long as I’m needed.”
Dragging a finger under her eye, she instantly returned to the formidable Lady Wakefield Nicholas was accustomed to. She nodded and announced, “I think I’ll go up early.”
Nicholas and his father retired to comfortable chairs in front of the fire with glasses of Burgundy.
“A second son,” Lord Wakefield mused. “Well done, Philip.”
“I’m sure they’re extremely pleased.”
“We certainly were when you were born. Such a relief to know the line is secure.”
A relief. That’s all he was. Something to help them sleep at night in case the worst happened. Nicholas didn’t want his value to hinge on something terrible happening to Philip and his nephews. He wanted a purpose of his own.
Smithson had explained that his father wouldn’t remember this day out of time. When he came back to the present, it would be like it never happened.
“Father, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“What would you think about my studying to become a barrister?”
Lord Wakefield’s brow rose. “A profession? Surely you’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“No Wakefield has labored in a profession since before the writing of the Domesday Book.”
He was well aware. One could not grow up a Wakefield and not be. “But what if I wanted to?”
“Nicholas,” his father admonished. “It’s high time you abandoned these odd notions. First your fascination with those bohemians, now this barrister business. You’re a man now. It’s time to grow up. Your place is here, helping me and Philip maintain the Wakefield legacy. Your duty is to your family, not some pack of criminal strangers.”
Well. So much for the delusion that his father might somehow understand. At least before he’d been able to pretend the conversation could have gone favorably. Now he knew with complete certainty that Lord Wakefield would never approve of what Nicholas wanted for his own life. It was what he had expected, really, but losing that little shred of hope hurt more than he’d realized it would.