“You will find I am not like men in general.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have not managed to achieve what I have by being like most men, particularly most men of business.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, then drew a deep breath. “Then will you give me leave to continue to handle my money?”
He considered her for a long moment. From a strictly business standpoint, it was exceedingly foolish to remove a man from a position which he not only liked but excelled at. Yet if he relinquished his duties as administrator, he would have no excuse to see Elizabeth. And the very moment he’d seen her again he’d known that would never do.
“I will give it due consideration,” he said in his most businesslike way.
“ ‘Due consideration’?” She blew a frustrated breath. “That’s it? You admit I have performed in an outstanding manner, yet ‘due consideration’ is the best you will offer me?”
“I will, however, propose a compromise you may find to your liking.”
“I doubt it. I can’t imagine that any compromise you propose would be to my liking save that of your washing your hands of all of this and leaving me in peace.”
“Would that I could.” He shook his head forlornly. “But I have responsibilities —”
“Yes, yes, I am well aware of your responsibilities.” Elizabeth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “What kind of compromise?”
“You shall continue to manage your accounts much as you always have. I shall go over them on a daily basis until such time as I am confident it is no longer necessary.”
“How utterly ridiculous.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have been doing exactly that without anyone looking over my shoulder for three years.”
“Then this shall not be at all difficult for you.”
“And if I refuse?”
He shrugged. “I shall remove all financial activity from your control. You shall have an allowance, of course. A set amount for your personal needs and a separate amount for your household. And I should think —”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I accept your proposal, but only as the lesser of two evils. Just how long do you anticipate this compromise to continue?”
“Until Christmas Eve. The Effington Christmas Ball,” he said without thinking, then winced to himself.
It was the first thing that popped into his head, and it had been a very long time since he’d said the first thing that came into his head in regards to any kind of negotiations whatsoever. Of course, she was a far cry from the men he usually negotiated with, and this was far more important than business. Besides, it would be ten years ago this very Christmas Eve that they had last been together. What better time than Christmas Eve and what better place than the Christmas ball to begin anew? He rather liked the irony of it.
“Christmas Eve?” Her eyes widened with disbelief. Apparently Elizabeth did not appreciate irony. “The Christmas ball?”
“Unless that does not meet with your approval.” He forced a casual note to his voice, as if there were nothing of note about that particular date.
“It scarcely matters to me,” she said with a shrug that belied the flash of annoyance in her eyes. “There are still a few weeks until Christmas.” She paused, and he could almost see the gears and wheels of her mind in motion. “Very well.” She nodded slowly. “I can agree to that.”
“There are conditions, however,” he said quickly.
“I should have known there would be.” Her voice was wry. “What kind of conditions?”
“First,” he braced himself, “you must allow me to escort you to my uncle’s party.”
“I scarcely think —”
“You are obviously not still in mourning. Lovely dress, by the way.” His gaze drifted over the most becoming peach-colored gown she wore this evening. The silk complemented the creamy tones of her skin, and the color brought out the blush in her cheeks. It was at once a pity and completely beneficial to his frame of mind that it was not the least bit revealing. “It quite suits you.”
“I know.” She smiled sweetly. “Everything I wear suits me. It is one of the benefits of having adequate funds, thanks to the brilliant management of my money.”
He refused to take the bait and change the topic at hand. “Surely I will not be the first gentleman to serve as your escort since your widowhood?”
“No, you will most certainly not be the first.” She laughed softly in an altogether too knowing manner that he didn’t like in the least. “I am widowed, Sir Nicholas, and, as you well know, have been for some time. However, my life did not cease upon my husband’s death.” She raised a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “I have always enjoyed the numerous entertainments offered by London society, indeed I have always believed in having a bit of fun and, while I mourned my husband for the requisite period, I see no need to spend the rest of my days doing so. Lord Langley is dead, but I am very much alive.”
“Indeed you are,” he murmured.
“In the past two years, I have found it most beneficial to be escorted to various events by suitable gentlemen.” She studied him for a moment as if trying to ascertain if he was suitable or not.
“Well?”
She rose to her feet and crossed the room to a side table bearing a decanter and glasses. “It has been a very long evening, and I believe it is past time for a brandy.”
“Brandy is an excellent idea.” He followed her without pause. “But you are avoiding the issue at hand.”
“Am I?”
“You have not agreed to my condition.”
“Haven’t I?” She poured two glasses and handed him one. “Is it necessary, then, for me to agree?”
“Yes,” he said firmly.
“Although, in truth, once again, I have no choice.” She shrugged. “Very well then, I shall allow you to escort me to your uncle’s dinner.”
“And any other occasions that arise in the next few weeks,” he said quickly. If he were to win Elizabeth’s heart by Christmas Eve he needed to be with her as much as possible. “Most particularly the Effington Christmas Ball.”
“Oh, dear. That might be rather awkward.” She took a sip of her brandy. “While I am willing to agree to that as a deadline, I may well have already accepted an offer for an escort to the Christmas ball.”
His hand tightened on the glass. “Then change your plans.”
“That would be unforgivably rude.” She shook her head in feigned regret. “And I do try not to be unforgivably rude.”
He snorted. “This afternoon you —”
“My apologies, Sir Nicholas,” she said in her most composed manner. “I was simply caught unawares. Your appearance was something of a shock in a day already full of shocking and most unpleasant surprises.”
His gaze met hers. “And was I an unpleasant surprise?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“I see.” He drew a deep swallow of the liquor. Nick wasn’t certain if she was baiting him or flirting in an odd, challenging sort of way or simply trying to drive him mad. Probably all three. “Have you recovered from your shock?”
“Most certainly.” She gazed up at him in an innocent manner he didn’t believe for a moment. He’d give much of his fortune at the moment to be able to read her mind.
“Dare I ask if there is one escort in particular out of those gentlemen you find suitable that you especially favor?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
If indeed there was another man who had already claimed her affections, his own efforts would be futile. No, not futile, only more difficult. He had learned through the years that it was always best to know what the possible obstacles were in any proposed venture.
“I suspect you would dare to ask or do almost anything,” she said mildly.
He stared at her for a long, frustrating moment. What on earth had happened here? He had the upper hand, held all the cards as it were, yet she was firmly in control of this exchange between them. Worse yet, he could tell by the look in her eyes
that she well knew it.
He drew a deep, calming breath. “And do you dare to answer?”
She laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time today, and the sound and the memories rippled through his blood. “I do indeed, Sir Nicholas. And even though your query is completely improper, highly personal, and really none of your concern, I will confess there is no one gentleman that I especially favor at the moment, although admittedly there are a few who would wish to take up that position in my life.”
Relief flooded through him. “I can understand that.”
“Oh?” She sipped her drink and considered him over the rim of her glass.
“You are a wealthy widow with formidable family and social connections. In addition, you are extremely clever, and the years have been most kind. I myself find you even lovelier, if possible, than when you were a girl.”
“You flatter me, Sir Nicholas.” She tilted her head and studied him as if he were a puzzle she could not quite figure out. “I do not recall that you were especially free with flattery in your youth. I don’t remember you as being quite this charming.”
He laughed. “Have I changed that much then?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Granted, it has been a very long time, but I remember you being far more serious in manner than you are now. It maybe simply the passage of years and a maturity of character perhaps, but you strike me as a man very much in command of his world and at ease with your place in it. There is an air of confidence about you now that did not exist before. I do not remember you being as — I don’t know exactly.” She thought for a moment. “Content perhaps?”
He nodded. “Perhaps. I have accomplished much of what I set out to do in life, reconciled my past, or rather my family’s past, and I find I am indeed at peace, if you will.”
“How lovely for you,” she murmured and moved away.
“And are you at peace?”
“What an odd question to ask.”
“Not really. If you would prefer not to answer, I can certainly —”
“I am content with my life.” Her words were measured, as though she was puzzling them out even as she answered. “Though I did not exactly choose this path, one never expects to find oneself a widow with two children after a mere seven years of marriage —”
“No, of course not.”
She turned to him and her gaze met his. “But I must admit that now I quite cherish my independence and my freedom.”
“And you resent me for taking them away.” It was as much a question as a statement.
She arched a brow. “Wouldn’t you in my position?”
“Without question.” He chuckled. “And I would probably be doing exactly as you are now.”
“That is?”
He grinned. “Devising a means of escape.”
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Excellent, Sir Nicholas, most perceptive. But I have already thought of a means of escape, as you put it.” She swirled the brandy in her glass and met his gaze directly. “According to my brother, my finances would no longer be under your management, or his for that matter, if I marry someone,” amusement sparkled in her eye, “suitable.”
“Rather an extreme measure when you could well be free of me entirely by Christmas,” he said wryly.
“Indeed it is, especially as I have no desire to marry again.”
“Why not?” He forced a casual note to his voice. “I had understood you and Charles were quite happy together.”
“We were,” she said a shade too quickly. Was she trying to convince him? Or herself?
At once Nick wondered if Jonathon was wrong; if indeed Elizabeth knew of her husband’s indiscretions. His stomach twisted for her. Surely not. She would not keep such a thing to herself. Or maybe her pride dictated that that’s exactly what she would have done. His uncle was right. One never knew what transpired in the privacy of a marriage.
“Quite happy indeed.” She caught his gaze, and there was a look of challenge in her eye, as if she dared him to think otherwise. “Nonetheless, I am not looking for a husband.”
He drew his brows together. “Why not?”
Her tone was light, but she obviously chose her words with care. “I have had one husband and I’m not entirely sure one is not more than enough. I have experienced marriage and, even as perfect as it was, I see no need to do so again.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” She raised her chin and her eyes flashed. “I like the freedom afforded a widow in this world, Sir Nicholas. I like being able to do as I please with whomever I please. You may well control my finances for a time or forever, but you shall not control my life.”
“I have no desire to do so.”
“What do you desire, Sir Nicholas? What do you want from me?”
The question hung in the air between them.
I desire you. I want the life we should have had. I wish to have you in my bed for the rest of my days. And in my heart forever.
He drew a deep breath. Now was not the time to tell her that the years had changed nothing for him. That he had lied when he had pushed her away so long ago. That the moment he’d seen her again he’d realized that losing her — no — giving her up had been the greatest mistake of his life.
He set his glass down and forced a light note to his voice. “At the moment, I want you to call me Nicholas.”
She shook her head. “That would be most inappropriate.”
“Why?” His restraint snapped, and he stepped closer to her. “Blast it all, Elizabeth, why won’t you call me Nicholas?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does it bother you that I don’t?”
“Yes, damn it all, it does.” He glared at her.
“Excellent.” She smiled sweetly. “Calling you by your given name would be most improper and would imply a relationship we do not share.”
He clenched his jaw. “You used to call me Nicholas.”
“I used to be nineteen and very, very foolish.”
“I don’t remember you as foolish.”
“Memories are selective, Sir Nicholas. I remember myself as being foolish enough to think…to feel…” She waved impatiently. “That’s neither here nor there. It’s not the least bit important now.”
“I think it is.” He moved nearer.
“Well, you are wrong.” She was within arm’s reach, and she glared up at him.
What would she do if he pulled her into his arms? “Everything that passes between us is important.”
“Once, perhaps, but not now. Now it is simply an insignificant moment in a long-forgotten past.”
“And have you forgotten?” If he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her with the pent-up passion of a decade?
“Yes,” she snapped, but she made no effort to move away.
“All of it?” His gaze shifted to her lips, full and firm and irresistible. “Everything?”
“There was nothing of significance to forget and nothing important enough to remember,” she said staunchly. “You are standing entirely too close, Sir Nicholas.”
“I am not standing nearly close enough.”
“Do you intend to kiss me?” Her voice was firm but sounded a shade breathless nonetheless.
“I’m not entirely sure what my intentions are, Elizabeth.” Her scent wafted around him, subtle with a touch of spice and vaguely reminiscent of Christmas.
“Lady Langley, if you please.”
“I do please,” he murmured, “or so I’ve been told.”
“Sir Nicholas, I am shocked.” Even so, she seemed to lean ever so slightly toward him.
“Do you remember the last time we kissed?” Or was it that everything about Christmas was vaguely reminiscent of Elizabeth?
She drew her brows together. “Have we kissed?”
“Once or twice.”
“You must have me confused with someone else. I don’t remember kissing you at all.” He could read the lie in her eyes.
“You don’t remember your lips meeting mine?” His gaze shifted to her lips. “Your life’s breath mingling with my own?”
“No.” Her voice was firm, but she wet her lips in a nervous manner, as if his words had sapped the moisture from them. His stomach tightened.
“Or the way in which I took you in my arms?” He noted the rise and fall of her chest with her quickened breath. “And how you fit against me as if we were made one for the other?”
“No.” Her gaze never wavered from his and he stared into her green eyes, now shadowed with memories she could deny but could not forget.
“Or the way a current of desire surged between us so strong we were left weak and breathless.” The same desire that surged between them now like an arc of endless electricity. Dangerous and exciting and irresistible.
“No.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I remember, Elizabeth.” It took every modicum of self-control he possessed not to reach out now and pull her into his arms. “I remember it all.”
“Well I do not, because there is nothing of significance to remember.” She swallowed hard. “And I warn you, if you attempt to kiss me now, I shall —”
“You shall kiss me back.”
“I most certainly will not.”
“That would be a very great shame. I remember the way you kissed me back. The way you clung to me as if to life itself. The way you —”
“Stop it at once.” She drew a shuddered breath and stepped out of his reach. She turned away and gripped the back of a chair as if needing support merely to stand. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He willed a note of cool reserve to his voice. “Doing what, Elizabeth?”
“You know full well what you’re doing. You’re trying to force me to recall something that it serves no purpose to remember. Something that really exists,” she shook her head, “only in your imagination.”
“My imagination is not that good.” He stepped to the table, picked up his glass, ignored the slight tremor in his hand, and downed the rest of his liquor. “I know I hurt you once, and for that you have my apologies.”
She whirled around to face him. “A bit late for apologies, don’t you think?”
A Visit From Sir Nicholas (Effington Family Book 9) Page 11