When She Loved Me (Regency Rogues: Redemption Book 1)

by Rebecca Ruger

  Chapter Six

  There was no one to greet Nicole when she finally did return to London four days before the wedding. Baron Kent, Bennett informed her, was at his club, it being after the supper hour, and Miss Sabrina had taken to her rooms. Curiously, wondering what Sabrina might be about, settled to her chambers so early in the evening, when surely there were preparations that still needed tending, Nicole searched her out. Down the corridor from her own chambers, she knocked lightly upon Sabrina’s door, but heard no call to enter. Finding the door unlocked, she peeked her head inside, glancing around the room until she spied her sister curled up within the window seat.

  “Sabrina,” she called softly, wondering if she read perhaps, as she must be greatly absorbed in something that she did not hear Nicole enter. Sabrina did now turn as the sound of Nicole’s voice and it was at once apparent that she had been crying. While they shared not immense sisterly affection, being as complete opposites as they were, Nicole’s heart did ache to see her sister so beset with grief. She needn’t ask what had brought this on, when surely the very thought of wedding with one when in love with another was enough to make any girl feel this wretched. “Oh, you poor dear,” Nicole said with huge sympathy, her case being of a similar thing. She rushed to Sabrina’s side, not quite surprised that her sister allowed herself to be drawn into Nicole’s soothing embrace, her grief seemed that powerful. “Now, now, it cannot be so bad as all that,” she said, hardly believing this herself. “The earl is a very good man, I am sure. You will be happy, if only you might give him a chance to prove it.”

  Sabrina began shaking her head miserably against Nicole’s bosom even as the words were coming. “I will never be happy. I love Marcus,” she wailed brokenly. “You cannot possibly understand the very terror imbued within, in love with one man but bound to marry another.”

  Oh, but she did, which only roused her compassion more. Nicole had never before harbored much sympathy for her sister, as Sabrina had often discouraged such an emotion with her gruff and selfish personality. But this, now, this indeed did break her heart. “I wish there was something I could do to help you,” she said, bemoaning the fact that there was not.

  “This is all the earl’s fault,” Sabrina accused on a ragged sob. “Because he needs money, I am forfeited to him, and my wishes are not considered at all.”

  Nicole had to agree that it did sound unfair, when taken as a whole. Not that she believed Marcus Trent to be the man to make Sabrina happy—she wondered if such a specimen existed, truth be told—but she abhorred the idea that Sabrina was given no choice in the matter.

  “You could talk to him,” Sabrina suggested lamely then.

  “Talk to whom?” Nicole asked, brows raised. “To the earl? To what purpose?” She needn’t explain to Sabrina that his supposed feelings for her even had not changed his mind regarding these marriage plans. “Sabrina, that will never work—”

  “It might. Has anyone, aside from me, ever enlightened the man that his selfish needs are ruining my life? Has he measured my feelings at all in all of this? I think not. Please Nicki,” she begged with a hiccup, “Please talk to him for me. Make him see the error in this. Make him change his mind.”

  Sabrina looked up at her with such doleful, stricken eyes that Nicole hadn’t any choice but to agree. She was her sister, after all, if she didn’t intercede on Sabrina’s behalf, then who would?

  She nodded, hating the thought of this coming confrontation with Trevor. She’d have preferred not to see him at all before the wedding. She’d have liked to skip that ceremony as well, if she were honest, but knew this to be impossible.

  “Tomorrow night, “Sabrina pressed on, enlivened by this small hope. “We’re to attend at wedding fete at my godmother’s estate. A small affair, it will provide the perfect opportunity to talk to him.”

  Nicole only nodded again, saying not a word. Something inside her cautioned that this mission would cause her no end of trouble. Some niggling sense of impending doom should have warned her off the task completely, but she nodded still, promising Sabrina she would do it.

  Gregoire Cheseldon had wasted no time in making good on his word, following almost upon Nicole’s heels, arriving the very next morning to consult with her father. The baron, though completely taken aback by this turn of events, and despite his very recent avowal that Nicole was too young to marry, clasped eager hands to the viscount and all but welcomed him to the family. Young Gregoire would one day be a marquis, the baron knew, recalling that the Cheseldon family and fortune were far superior to many in the ton, their lineage nothing short of perfection. And so it was that the baron bade Bennett to send a note over to Lady Cavendish’ home, informing her there would be one more in attendance for tonight’s soiree and dinner. With barely contained glee, he thought he might have pulled off the two most perfect unions of the season. One daughter married to an earl, and the other to a marquis. A father could wish for no more. Delightedly, he saw Cheseldon out, admonishing him to be returned at seven to accompany the family to Lady Cavendish’s home. He suggested, though, that the exact nature of his ties to the Kents not be divulged as of yet, “as not to steal the bluster from the current happy couple,” he said, rubbing his hands together with pure delight.

  Nicole had taken no more particular care with her appearance than usual but Cheseldon remarked, upon his arrival, that she seemed more and more beautiful with each passing day. It left her not with quite the same heady sensation as when Trevor told her she looked beautiful. But she firmly set these traitorous thoughts aside, well aware that her father was in happy reception of Gregoire’s proposed suit, and so it was, for all intents and purposes, a done deal, and her present loyalties must steadfastly reside with Cheseldon from now on.

  “You do look lovely, sister,” Sabrina agreed uncharacteristically, allowing Bennett to fix her silk shawl about her shoulders. She held Nicole’s gaze for an extra second, her glance meaningful, reminding her sister of her promise to aid her this very evening. Having already been presented to Gregoire, she had—her eyes had told—surmised the meaning behind his unexpected appearance quite astutely, and then summarily dismissed him as inconsequential.

  Nicole withdrew her own gaze, her insides churning at the very thought of facing Trevor tonight. Uneasily, she cast her eyes downward, pretending a great interest in her gown, sweeping her hands over non-existent creases in the folds of the golden silk, before raising her hands to attend to her perfectly set hair, piled so artfully at the back her head.

  The baron appeared then, once again bewigged imprecisely, but beaming with such joy as to draw a person’s notice away from his hair. He effused over Cheseldon’s presence, and gladly accepted use of the viscount’s carriage, as it was surely finer than the Kent vehicle.

  Within the hour, the foursome stood among the throng at Lady Cavendish’ townhouse, Nicole finding herself upon pins and needles, waiting for the inevitable appearance of Trevor Wentworth, hoping against all hope that she might run into him while not in the presence of Gregoire. She would face his wrath soon enough, she imagined, but thought herself unprepared to do so this evening. If she were lucky, he’d not learn of her near-betrothal until after he was already wed to Sabrina. It was, perhaps, arrogant of her to even imagine that he might be angered by her new situation, but deep inside, there remained a part of her that hoped he would be—this would validate that indeed, he’d entertained greater feeling for her than simply lust. No words had ever been exchanged between them about any mutual feelings, but she’d long held that he had to feel as she did, or his behavior would not have been as unpredictable and irrational as it had proven. It would be a travesty to her very soul, if perchance he’d only dallied with her, without any great and abiding emotion.

  When another hour had passed and he’d appeared not at all, Nicole and Gregoire had wandered away from Sabrina, who’d been taken up by her godmother and introduced to persons of great consequence. The baron had left them some time ago, finding his cronie
s and the card room almost immediately upon their arrival. Gregoire steered Nicole into a small salon upon the main floor of Lady Cavendish’s elegant home, finding it to be empty save for one other couple. They sat cozily upon a prettily striped davenport sofa while the other pair remained standing, quietly conversing near the long windows.

  “I should have asked if you’d like some lemonade—your father tells me Lady Cavendish serves nothing stronger,” Gregoire said.

  Nicole did not answer just then, her eyes being fixated upon the doorway, where Trevor Wentworth now stood, watching her with a heated gleam, his gaze moving from her to Gregoire, an undisguised hostility noted in the curl of his lip. Gregoire’s eyes followed the path of Nicole’s, coming to rest on Trevor, who moved into the room. The viscount stood, and Nicole followed suit, though her insides might have preferred if she’d remained seated, her head suddenly spinning.

  “Lord Leven, may I present the viscount Cheseldon?” She introduced the two men on a shaky breath, one hand held over her twisting belly.

  Gregoire’s stance seemed to relax, his smile all at once genuine. “Ah, Sabrina’s man,” he put together, extending his hand in a friendly fashion. “Glad to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

  Trevor bowed his head as the younger man had done, even offered some likewise polite remark, his eyes finally leaving Nicole to size up Cheseldon.

  She could barely remove her gaze from his person, however, unable to believe that she might have, for even one moment, forgotten how truly handsome he was, or how quickly his very presence could fill a room. And little tendencies of hers, in his company, like the twirling of her stomach, the breathlessness she suffered, returned with full force as he stood before her now.

  “I was just offering some refreshment to Miss Kent,” Gregoire said. “Shall you catch up with the earl while I fetch it?” He asked of Nicole.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered in a faint voice, trying to remember she had a purpose tonight, trying to forget how his lips felt upon hers, how she’d melted in his arms at one time. She spared a quick glance at Gregoire’s leave-taking before Trevor’s voice brought her gaze back to him.

  “I was not made aware of your return,” he said when the viscount had left. He threw a quick glance at the couple still hovering near the far windows.

  “It was only yesterday,” said Nicole.

  “What are you doing with Cheseldon?” It was apparent that he’d depleted his small efforts to possibly not ask this question.

  Nicole shrugged casually but knew her cheeks reddened with her coming half-truths. “We met at Breakspear—Audley End to be exact. “And then, almost laced with guilt, “I am... quite fond of him.”

  Of course, she was not looking at his unnerving eyes right now, having given up even so little as this, but she knew—she felt—the animosity emanating from him as much as if he’d slapped her with it.

  With a meanness she’d not have expected of him, he growled at her, “Fickle, are we?” This brought her sharp gaze directly to his, just as he’d no doubt wanted.

  “Rather like the pot calling the kettle black, is it not?” Nicole absolutely hated that she was reduced to this person, this angry and hurt and pitiful person. “Leave off, Trevor,” she begged, her tone decidedly softer. “We cannot go on like this forever.”

  He seemed to weigh seriously her words and gave her a curt nod after what felt like an eternity. She might have then entered into her rehearsed discourse on thinking twice about marrying Sabrina, as his fiancé supposed he was ruining her life, but the viscount returned then, pressing her lemonade into her hand.

  “And they’ve announced that dinner will commence shortly,” Gregoire said to the pair. “Perhaps we should find our seats.”

  Trevor and Nicole nodded in unison, their faces taut with the effects of their related despair. Accepting the viscount’s arm, Nicole left the earl standing in the salon, staring at their backs.

  Sabrina found Nicole after dinner, pinching her arm and dragging her into a small anteroom, where she hissed, “Are you, or are you not, going to speak to the earl?”

  Nicole’s eyes widened at this ferocity in her sister, but she nodded lamely, making excuses, “I tried earlier, but to no avail. Gregoire was there and—“

  Sabrina waved off these explanations. “Go to the library on the second floor,” she instructed. “I will contrive to get Trevor there.” And she released Nicole and left her.

  Hating her own position, and rueful of the promise made to Sabrina, Nicole gathered herself mentally and did as she was told. She found the library quite easily, the door being open, the room softly lit but empty. She fretted over how unnerved she might actually become if she had to wait very long for Trevor to appear but needn’t have bothered. Only minutes after she’d arrived, Trevor entered the room, apparently surprised to find her there.

  “I was told to meet Lord Aldington here,” he said. “I presume you are he.”

  Assuming that Sabrina used that ruse to get him here, Nicole only nodded as she watched Trevor close the door firmly behind him. He advanced on her, his countenance having changed little since their earlier meeting. In fact, he might even seem angrier.

  “You neglected to tell me of your own engagement, Nicki,” he accused through gritted teeth. Nearly upon her, he continued, “We spoke earlier. We talked specifically of Cheseldon. You forgot to mention this? You deemed it trivial? What?”

  This was an ugly side of Trevor she was sure she would never get used to. “I deemed it none of your affair.”

  “How is that?” He stood now directly in front of her, his sapphire eyes gleaming in the candlelit room, his jaw tight.

  “You are to marry my sister. What I do should concern you not at all.” She aimed for flippancy, but her voice sounded only guilt-ridden and defensive to her ears.

  “You barely know him,” he said in a stony voice. “You met him—what? A month ago, at most?”

  Nicole frowned at this, deciding to forgo mentioning that he engaged himself to Sabrina, sight unseen, based solely on her fortune.

  “Gregoire is good and kind and—"

  Trevor threw up a hand in disgust. “Ah, a veritable god, to be sure.”

  With tears threatening to spill, she asked of him, “Why are you doing this to me? Gregoire can make me happy,” she insisted.

  “He cannot make you happy,” Trevor argued, pointing a finger to stress his point. “He is a milksop.”

  Trevor ran a hand over his eyes and jaw and continued to stare at her while her watery green eyes stared only at his fist at his side. He uncurled his fingers. “Are you in love with him?”

  Nicki still didn’t look at him but said, “I am very fond of Gregoire,” just as she had earlier.

  It was what she didn’t say that truly answered the question and he breathed easier now.

  A million times over the past many weeks, he’d stopped himself from riding out to her in Essex. He’d told himself he needed to marry Sabrina and that he had to let his obsession with Nicki go. He’d told himself it was just an unlikely infatuation and time apart would allow it to fade away. He’d told himself that he would see her again before the wedding and he would find that he was not still captivated by her beauty or eager for one of her melting smiles or desirous of just one more kiss, and that he would know then, that it had only been passing fancy.

  Yet, he’d known as soon as he first saw Nicki tonight he couldn’t marry Sabrina. And it wasn’t because Nicki looked so unbearably beautiful in her golden gown. And it didn’t have anything to do with the nearly uncontrollable urge to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. He’d known he couldn’t marry Sabrina when her eyes had met his, when he knew all those things he’d told himself had been lies, when she stared back at him with the very same longing and hunger that he surely showed to her.

  He’d spent the better part of dinner wondering how awful it was going to be, not marrying Sabrina, not benefitting from her very large inheritance. True, he
’d wavered then, thinking not only of himself but of the thousands of people under the umbrella of the Leven title who would be affected by possibly years and years of his trying to claw his way out of debt.

  And then he’d crossed paths with Baron Kent, who’d clasped his shoulder in such a fashion as to suggest he’d had one too many clarets and had proudly declared himself “the man of the season!” for having betrothed two daughters only weeks apart, and to such “solid citizens as yourself and Cheseldon”. The ache he’d felt in his chest just then, the tightness that had gripped him at the news that his Nicki was planning to marry someone else answered once and for all, in his mind, who would be wedding whom.

  Now, she crossed her hands over her chest, squeezing her upper arms. Her voice was low, melancholy, when she said, “I think it truly a shame that what was once a good relationship between us has been destroyed by this... this—I used to so look forward to seeing you. I was so envious of Sabrina, thinking her so unappreciative of you.” She turned away from him, as if to hide her tears.

  Trevor quietly stepped closer. In a low, gentler tone, he asked, “And you don’t look forward to seeing me now?”

  When Nicole only shook her head, he said, very close behind her, “I crave only the sight of you sometimes. I just want to see you smile again at me. I want to bring you back to the picture gallery and listen to you tell me, so passionately, the story of Rembrandt’s life.” He stepped closer again, his mouth at her ear. “I want to watch you string together atrocious needlepoint with your brow wrinkled so adorably. I want to touch you and kiss you and I think you want the same. I have been going out of my mind these past weeks, waiting, wondering if you thought of me at all.”