She looked back in the direction he had gone. Please, let the answer be yes.
****
After assisting Julian with the injured servant, Nicholas glanced around the hall, wondering where Megan had gone. He had to see her again, to try and convince her that—
“Go home now, Claremont,” Julian said, joining him in the hallway.
“No. We need to discuss my betrothal to Megan. I am most serious about marrying her.”
Julian stood silent for a moment, his silver-gray eyes assessing, calculating. “We shall discuss this in the study.”
Nicholas followed Julian into the room. Settling into the butter-soft leather, he watched his former friend take the seat behind the desk. What was the man up to?
“I know not what sort of callous game you’re playing with my sister, Claremont, but I do not like it,” Julian snarled into the silence.
Nicholas splayed his hands on the polished desk and leaned forward. Looking steadily into those hostile eyes, he said, “This is no game, Julian. I mean to marry her.”
“The hell you say. Perhaps you mean to commit to a betrothal, then leave her at the altar once your wedding day arrives,” Julian said, his voice rising. “Or, more accurately, you wish to get her with child, then leave her like you thought I did years ago to Emily Wakefield.”
He balled his hands into fists. “Damn you, Julian, is it so difficult to believe that this has nothing whatever to do with Emily?” He took a deep breath, reining in the fury trying to overtake him, and lowered his voice. “This is not some sort of game or plan for revenge.”
Julian did not respond for several minutes. Nicholas could read nothing in the man’s expression but anger. Finally, Julian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “From what I have learned tonight, Megan will have no difficulty finding a husband. In fact, there were seven offers this evening alone.”
It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to rise up out of his chair and lunge across the desk. “Curse your black soul, Julian. You cannot do this,” he said.
Julian’s brow cocked up. “I daresay I can, Claremont. I am her guardian. Megan hasn’t given me any indication she wishes to marry you.”
As Nicholas listened, his grip tightened on the chair arms.
“In fact,” the scoundrel continued, his lips pulling into a grin, “I think Bentwood has captured her attention.”
A bloody lie, Nicholas thought.
Julian leaned back in his chair. Nicholas caught a glimpse of disappointment. So, that was the bastard’s game. Nicholas relaxed, his fingers throbbing from having dug into the leather so long. Julian had wanted him to lunge forward, had been waiting for him. Well, he’d restrain the urge to rearrange Julian’s face even if it killed him.
“I have an idea. One that may solve everything,” Julian said.
“I’m listening,” he prompted.
“Leave Megan completely alone until she decides on a husband.”
“What?” he roared. He could no more stop the sun from rising in the morn.
“You heard me. Do not attempt to see or talk to her, by any means. And if the two of you were meant to be together, you will.”
“If I do stay away from her, and she chooses to marry me, you will allow it?”
“Yes.” Julian answered with reluctance, as if it pained him.
“There is something else.” He leaned forward. He would walk the fires of hell if it meant he could marry Megan, but this agreement had to be fair.
“And what would that be?”
“Quit trying to turn her against me,” he bellowed.
“I’ve only spoken the truth to her.”
He grunted. “No, just what you believe is the truth. You must allow her to discern things for herself.”
After several seconds of silent deliberation, Julian nodded. “Now, do you agree to these terms?”
“Not just yet, Amersleigh.” He frantically worked his mind for any advantages.
Julian heaved a sigh. “Now what?”
He chewed his lip. Think, man, think. His heart knocked so hard against his chest that he could hardly form a thought. “If she desires to see me, I will not refuse her,” he said.
After a lengthy hesitation, Julian said, “Fine, but she is to know nothing at all of this agreement, or it is ended. I wish to be certain her decision is genuine. Do we have an understanding?”
The door opened and Megan walked into the room, stemming Julian’s words. Nicholas rose from his chair and feasted his eyes on her loveliness, wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. What was it about this young woman that he could not live without?
“I thought you had retired for the evening, Megan,” Julian said.
Megan’s heart quivered at the sight of Nicholas standing there dressed in evening black, looking far more handsome that he ought. Those intense feelings she’d harbored for him since finding his portrait all those years ago rushed back. Forcing her gaze away, she turned to her brother, realizing that he and Nicholas had been speaking without exchanging a round of punches. Incredible. Then she recalled her brother’s words. “I was assisting Dr. Kellerman.”
“How is Perkins?” her brother asked, rounding the desk to stand before her.
She cleared her throat, suddenly gone dry. “He needed to be stitched, but is doing much better.”
“Did he regain consciousness? Was he able to explain what had happened?”
“Perkins said a man darted across the road, scaring the horses. When they reared up, he hit his head.”
“A man? Did Perkins recognize him?”
“No. It was too dark,” Megan said.
Nicholas stepped forward. “Lady Megan, may I have a word with you?”
She opened her mouth, but Julian answered first. “No, Claremont, you may not. Now leave here before I have you forcefully removed.”
Nicholas took another step forward, his blue eyes snapping with fury.
Megan’s heart thundered with alarm. She eased into the narrow distance separating the two men. “Cease this madness, both of you.” She turned to Nicholas. “I think it would be best if you left now.”
He lowered his gaze, the rage subsiding from his features. “Please, I must speak with you first, Meg,” he implored softly. “It is important.”
“I won’t have it, Claremont,” her brother barked.
Noticing a glimmer in Nicholas’s eyes, something almost beseeching, she turned to her brother. “Give us a few minutes to talk, Jules.”
Julian threw up his hands. “All right, a few minutes. But that is all.” He glanced over her head and addressed Nicholas. “And you will not lay one finger on my sister. I will be right outside that door. All she has to do is make one questionable sound and I’ll be on you in a trice.” He strode from the room with military stiffness.
Warily, she turned back to Nicholas.
“Thank you, Meg,” he said, moving toward her.
She took a step back to distance her body from his. “Whatever you have to say, do it fast,” she said as her bottom hit against the desk.
“I wish you to be my wife.” He advanced another step so that he stood mere inches from her. “We must marry.”
“That is close enough,” she snapped.
Must. He didn’t want to marry her. He merely felt obligated. Oh, God, why couldn’t he love her? She wanted that above anything. But his cold arrangement had nothing to do with love. She squared her shoulders. “So,” she sneered, trying to bury her pain, “your proposal has changed from mistress to wife?”
He jerked back as though he’d been struck. “Megan, I have apologized. What more can I do? Name anything and it shall be done.”
Just love me as much as I love you. Her gaze skidded away to focus on the leather-bound books behind him. “There is nothing you can do.”
“Will you at least allow me to try?” He paused to graze her cheek with his fingertips. “Say you’ll marry me, Meg,” he insisted.
As h
is warm skin sent tingling sparks through her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach, confusion enveloped her. She wanted desperately to take what he offered, but she held back. Being a duchess meant being the perfect lady, like her mother. Megan was not the perfect lady. She was anything but the perfect lady.
The door crashed open, jarring Megan from the spell Nicholas had woven around her. “Good night, Claremont,” Julian said.
“Let me know what you decide.” Nicholas held her gaze for a moment, then spun around and was gone.
Megan stared at the empty doorway for several seconds. Could it be possible he truly wanted to marry her, even with all her faults? She bit her lip, tamping back her soaring hopes. Nicholas’s future words and actions would reveal his true feelings. And since she knew with last week’s menses that she didn’t carry his child, there was no rush to the altar.
There was plenty of time for him to prove the sincerity of his proposal. If, indeed, he was sincere at all.
CHAPTER 9
One week after the carriage incident, Megan plodded into the dining room. She’d had another sleepless night, identical to the six before. Not even the beautiful new gowns that arrived daily from the fashion house had improved her mood. And it was all Nicholas’s fault, curse him.
Just seven short days ago, he’d been adamant about her becoming his wife, and now…nothing. She hadn’t heard one blasted word from the man. He hadn’t even bothered to pen a note.
She sighed and moved to the sideboard. Without filling her plate from the extensive fare offered, she poured a cup of tea from the silver pot and sat in her chair. Unaware of Julian’s steel-gray eyes watching her from above his paper, she wrapped her chilled hands around the hot teacup and stared into the dark, steamy liquid.
“Megan, you must eat or none of your new gowns will fit,” Julian said as he folded his newspaper and set it aside.
“I’ll eat when I’m hungry. How is Perkins this morning?”
He sighed. “He is angry that I won’t allow him to return to work until his stitches come out in a couple of days.”
“Good,” she breathed, grateful the dear man was almost recovered. She glanced down and watched the steam rise from her cup. “I think I’ll take a stroll in the park today.” Anything to keep from dwelling on Nicholas.
“I’m sorry, Moppet, but I must go to the dock and inspect the clipper’s progress.”
“Julian, will you please stop calling me that? I am not a child.”
He raised his brows at her request, but didn’t agree to it. “I shan’t be overlong. Eat something,” he said instead, then kissed her forehead and departed.
She abhorred the idea of spending another day alone dwelling on that insufferable man. How she wished she could ride her horses. Then she recalled that Julian didn’t say she couldn’t go, just that he couldn’t. She told Wentworth to have the carriage brought around.
She held her face up to the sunshine after she alighted from the vehicle, followed by her maid disguised as a duenna. It was necessary that Society not realize Lucy’s identity since a maid was not a proper escort. But she refused to remain indoors another day. She needed a distraction from Nicholas like she needed air.
Walking along the path to the park, she smiled in admiration of the colorful flowers in bloom. They reminded her of her mother’s gardens at Kenbrook, and a wave of sadness threatened her. She shook her head, forcing back the looming depression. Today, she decided, she would not be sad.
Unaware of the many appreciative male eyes that followed her, she sat on a bench to watch a group of children play. Her maid took the seat beside her and began to chatter about their lovely surroundings.
“What a lovely rose garden, my lady. Oh, look at the statue. Is that marble?”
She groaned inwardly. If only she could have a few moments to herself… “Lucy, didn’t you say just yesterday how you needed to visit the apothecary and find a treatment for your mother’s swelling?”
“Oh, yes, my lady.”
She kept her eyes fixed on the children. “Well then, why don’t you go now? I’ll remain here and wait for you.”
“But Lady Megan, I could not possibly leave you alone.”
She smiled in reassurance. “I shall be quite safe. Look at all the children. Were it not safe, would they be allowed to play thus?” She waved a hand toward them as they rolled upon the grass and tackled one another.
“I guess not,” her maid answered.
“I am certain you shan’t be but a few minutes. Have Hanson escort you in the carriage.”
“Are you sure, my lady?”
“Yes, Lucy, now off with you. I shall be perfectly safe during your short absence.”
“Well…all right. And thank you, Lady Megan,” Lucy said breathlessly, her excitement at being taken somewhere in the grand ducal conveyance evident. Servants were rarely allowed the use of such vehicles.
“Would you mind if I took the seat beside you?” asked a voice.
She looked up to find a pretty girl standing before the bench. “Please do,” she answered.
The girl sat, trying a little too hard to be ladylike. “I’m Evelyn Thornton, but everyone calls me Evie. And you must be Megan Westland,” Evie said as she opened her parasol against the bright sun.
“Why, yes I am. How did you know?”
“Everyone has been talking about you,” Evie answered. She laughed. “You certainly made an impression at the theater, from what I hear.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I did?”
“Absolutely. My brother, Ash, was there and couldn’t stop talking about you. I had no idea how accurate he was in his description. My dear, you are stunning,” Evie said, her soft brown eyes swimming with merriment.
Megan ducked her head, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.” Megan learned that Evie celebrated her twentieth birthday two months ago. Her only sibling was her brother, Ash, older by six years. Upon the sudden death of their father five years ago, he became the Earl of Ashton and her guardian.
“Why aren’t you married, Evie?”
Pain filled Evie’s liquid brown eyes. “I was betrothed once, but he cried off,” she answered.
Crossing her arms, Megan expelled an indignant huff. “Well, in my opinion, he was a damn fool.”
When Evie spun around sharply, Megan popped a hand over her mouth. She prayed she hadn’t offended her new friend with her bluntness. She was ever driving her parents crazed with her unladylike ways.
Evie threw her head back and laughed.
Megan removed her hand, pleased and a little surprised by Evie’s laughter. Then she joined in and they laughed so long, tears streamed down their faces.
“Oh, my, I haven’t laughed this hard in…I don’t think I have ever laughed this hard,” Evie said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I haven’t either.” Then she sobered, recalling why she had no cause for laughter lately.
Evie’s hand moved over hers. “What is it?”
She found herself telling of her parents’ hasty departure, which still caused her great concern. But she said nothing of Nicholas.
“That’s terrible, Megan. Well, it’s no wonder I can feel your sadness. However, they shall be here soon,” her friend said in a soothing tone.
“Yes, soon,” she repeated, and a shiver ran through her. Her parents could learn what had happened between her and Nicholas. Especially after Julian’s mention of the marriage offer.
With a sigh, she chose a more cheerful topic. “Are you attending Almack’s tomorrow?”
Evie looked aghast for a moment, then shook her head.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I did not receive a voucher,” her new friend answered while smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her dress.
She drew her brows together. “I don’t understand.”
After a moment of silence, Evie looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I am not acceptable.”
“Why? Because of your broken betrotha
l?”
“Yes,” Evie whispered, her gaze skidding away.
“Well then, it will be my pleasure to turn down Lady Jersey’s invitation. I suddenly find Almack’s not acceptable.”
With a gasp, Evie swiveled back around. “Oh, Megan, I didn’t mean for you…”
Smiling, she patted Evie’s hand. “I know you didn’t.”
Evie’s eyes filled with more tears. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said and pulled a frilly piece of linen from her bag. She gave a sniff and scrubbed the wetness from her cheeks. Then she straightened and asked, “What about Huntington’s masque? Are you attending that?”
“Are you?” Evie nodded. “Is your brother escorting you?”
“Yes. And who might your escort be for the night?””
“Usually, I would say Aunt Agnes. But I have a feeling that my brother will suddenly be delighted to perform the task.”
They chatted for a while longer before she heard Evie exclaim that she had left her aunt asleep in the carriage and needed to return for her.
“Would you like to come?” Evie invited.
Megan shook her head with reluctance. “No, I’m waiting for my, uh, duenna to return with the carriage. You go. I’ll see you at Huntington’s,” she replied, then bade good day to her new friend.
After Evie’s departure, she realized how late it was. With growing alarm, she thought that Lucy should have returned quite a long time ago. Hours must have passed.
Standing, she fretted about whether to stay and wait or search for the carriage. Something terrible must have happened.
After retrieving some coins from her small wrist bag, she hired a hackney to convey her to the apothecary. When she found the shop closed for the day, she had the jarvey take her to the townhouse, her heart racing. But the carriage hadn’t returned, nor was her brother back from the shipyard.
Julian would know what to do.
The jarvey squinted at her. “Yer sure ye be wantin’ ter go there, miss?”
“Yes, and I would like to arrive before Christmas, please.”
The driver shrugged and whistled at his horse. The wheels crunched over the road and they made their way through the streets of London much slower than she wanted. Megan resisted the urge to yell out at the driver. She should not advertise the fact she was unescorted.
Innocence Lost (Secrets & Scandals Book 1) Page 9