“What of you, Sir Nicholas?”
Nick started. “What?”
“I was asking if you have celebrated Christmas these past ten years?” Juliana said.
“Christmas?” Nick said slowly.
Christmas was the last thing on his mind at this particular moment, although the idea of sugarplums and toffee and tarts and other Christmas treats was tempting. He drew a calming breath and glanced at Elizabeth. An altogether too knowing look sparked in her eyes. She couldn’t possibly know what he had been thinking, could she?
He forced a pleasant smile. “It seems the height of sacrilege to admit it among this festive assembly, but I have not particularly celebrated Christmas at all. I confess it has often been simply another day for me.”
“Just like Scrooge,” Miss Sweet Young Debutante murmured.
“And what of your employees?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Is it simply another day for them too?”
“No, my lady, it is not.” Nick met her gaze with the solid, resolute stare that had made grown men quiver and immediately reconsider their positions. He was oddly pleased that she didn’t so much as twitch. “Only those men in my employ whose jobs require a continuous presence work on Christmas Day, and they are compensated extremely well. Each and every employee receives a bonus at Christmas as well. A practice, I might add, that is not widespread among employers, but I have found that workers who are well treated are more productive and are extremely loyal. In many ways, they are my responsibility, a sort of family, if you will. I consider them such and treat them accordingly.
“Furthermore, I have certain moral standards I adhere to. I do not permit the hiring of children. The widow of any man killed while in my employ receives a substantial pension. And I donate generously to charities here and in America.” He turned toward Miss Sweet Young Debutante. “So you see, my dear, there is really little comparison between myself and Scrooge.”
Miss Sweet Young Debutante’s eyes widened. “But he didn’t mark Christmas in any way, and neither do you.”
Juliana snorted.
“I have marked it in benefits to my employees and goodwill toward those less fortunate. As for myself, I have not celebrated in the past, but I anticipate that will change now that I have returned home.” Nick glanced around the table. “Christmas is a time to gather with family and friends, and it is at this time of year that being apart from them is especially difficult. My only real family is my uncle, and he resides here in London, as do those I count as friends. And I confess, I do regret the long years spent away.”
“You had no friends in America?” Juliana studied him curiously.
“I had any number of acquaintances, primarily of a business nature. But those I consider true friends have always been here.” He chuckled wryly. “Most in this very room.”
“And what of women, Sir Nicholas?” Juliana said. “You have not married?”
Elizabeth smiled politely. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if the sisters were in league with one another. Indeed, Juliana’s questions might well be retaliation for letting Elizabeth think, if only for a moment, that there was something beyond friendship between Teddy and himself. Not that he had actually done that, of course, but he perhaps hadn’t discouraged that impression quickly enough.
Jonathon raised a brow. “Which has to do with Scrooge, the topic of discussion, in what manner?”
“You have obviously failed to notice, Jonathon, but we’ve long since exhausted discussions of a literary nature and have proceeded to far more interesting things.” Juliana shot her brother a quelling glance. If Nick didn’t know better, he would swear they were all children again. She cast Nick a brilliant smile. “We have turned to Sir Nicholas.”
Nick laughed. “Am I more interesting then than Mr. Dickens’s characters?”
“Oh, infinitely.” Juliana nodded. “One knows nearly everything about the characters in a book, at least by the final page. But in reality, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to know everything about anyone. Particularly when they don’t answer your questions.”
“Perhaps they do not answer because those questions are overly personal,” Jonathon said mildly.
Juliana ignored her brother. “Now, then, Sir Nicholas, are you going to answer mine?”
“It is good to know the years have not diminished your forthright nature.” Nick chuckled. “Very well then, no, I have never married. And to forestall your next question as to why, I really cannot say.”
“You are obviously financially able to wed,” Juliana pressed. “So the reason you proffered for Scrooge does not hold true for you.”
“Perhaps Sir Nicholas is of a romantic nature,” Miss Sweet Young Debutante said with enthusiasm, obviously no longer equating him with Scrooge. “Perhaps he has never found a lady who could capture his heart?”
“Or a woman he would wish to tie himself to for the rest of his days,” Elizabeth said.
Nick glanced at Elizabeth.
“Or perhaps any woman who might well capture his heart had already been spoken for.” Juliana met his gaze firmly.
“Or possibly…” He took Juliana’s hand and drew it to his lips. Her eyes were a deeper shade than her sister’s, more blue than green, and held a look of amusement and possibly even appreciation. “…she was entirely too young and far and away too outspoken to be a suitable wife and he missed his opportunity.” He brushed a kiss across her hand. “To his everlasting regret.”
Juliana burst into laughter and pulled her hand from his. “Well said, Sir Nicholas.” She nodded with definite approval. Nick had the distinct impression she was approving him for something far more important than his way with words, and he wondered exactly how much she knew about the relationship between her sister and himself. “Well said, indeed.”
Juliana turned away in response to a comment from her husband at her side. Jonathon cast Nick a curious grin, then directed his attention to another guest, and a moment later, the others took up various conversations.
Across the table Elizabeth toyed with her wine-glass and spoke absently to the gentleman seated beside her.
For years Nick had refused to admit to himself the depth of his feelings for Elizabeth. Feelings that had been ignored but had never faltered.
Juliana was right. He had never married because the one woman who had indeed captured his heart had already been spoken for. He had never married because no other woman had come close to touching his soul the way Elizabeth did. No, she didn’t merely touch it, she owned it. Possessed it. For better or ill, he was hers, he had always been hers, for now and forever.
Now he just had to convince her of that.
Tonight, thanks to the outrageous bargain she had proposed, he would finally make her his. He intended to take full advantage of her scandalous decision to at long last give in to the desire that had lingered between them for a decade. But her conditions were absurd, and, aside from fidelity and discretion, he had no intention of abiding by them. He had spent the past seven days considering her proposition and making arrangements of his own.
Nick had let her go once in the guise of a noble mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He would not let her go again. Not after Christmas, not ever. He sipped his wine and watched her thoughtfully. He had a great deal of time to make up for.
Getting into her bed would be the easy part. Working his way into her heart would require a great deal of effort. He wasn’t sure why she resisted the idea of love, but he had never let an obstacle stand in his path before and he would not start now.
Nicholas Collingsworth had never failed to acquire a ship he had wanted, and he would not fail now to gain the love, the heart, of the one woman in the world who owned his soul.
Elizabeth glanced at him, and her gaze met his. He raised his glass in a private, discreet toast.
And he intended to have a great deal of fun in the process.
* * *
* * *
Chapter 11
Nicholas helped Elizabeth out
of the carriage, and they started toward the front door. All in all, the dinner to welcome Nicholas home had been lovely. Rather it would have been lovely if not for the anticipation that quivered deep inside her, fluttering in her stomach and catching at her breath. And the evening had stretched on forever.
This would be it, then. Tonight, probably within the hour, Nicholas would be in her bed. She wanted this, wanted him, more than she’d ever imagined possible. And almost as much as she wanted him, she wanted to know the why of it all.
Was it indeed the denial of a sweet long craved, or was it something more? Something ignored for a decade? Something lasting? Something forever?
She wanted to know, and at the same time, she feared the knowledge and what it said about her and the life she had led and the decisions she had made.
Elizabeth glanced up at the house before her and stopped in midstride. “Nicholas, your driver has made a mistake.”
“Are you sure?” he said coolly. “My driver never makes mistakes.”
“He has this time. This is not my house.” She stepped back and shook her head. “Mine is one door down.”
“Indeed it is, but it is no mistake.” He took her arm and led her up the steps. The door swung open at their approach. He stepped aside to allow her to enter before him. “This is my house.”
She swiveled to face him. “Your house? What do you mean, your house?”
“I mean it belongs to me.” He shrugged off his greatcoat into the waiting hands of a discreetly nondescript servant, no doubt a butler. “I purchased it.”
“What do you mean, you purchased it?” She unfastened her cloak and handed it to the butler with a nod of thanks. He accepted the garment and promptly vanished into the shadows of the foyer.
Nicholas raised a brow. “I thought I was being quite clear. I mean precisely what I just said. This house belongs to me because I purchased it.”
Elizabeth stared at him suspiciously. “Why?”
He smiled in an enigmatic manner and strolled into the parlor. The man was as annoying as he was cryptic. And this latest action of his, like virtually everything else he’d done thus far, did not bode well.
Elizabeth grit her teeth and followed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe as you wish, but it’s true.”
“It couldn’t possibly be true. Lord Halstrom has lived in this house forever.” She narrowed her gaze. “What have you done with him then?”
“Lord Halstrom?”
“Yes, of course, Lord Halstrom, the poor dear man.” Elizabeth pushed aside a tiny twinge of guilt.
She had lived in the house next door since Charles had purchased it shortly after their marriage, and Lord Halstrom had lived here for years before that. But admittedly, she wasn’t at all sure she’d recognize the older gentleman if she ran into him in her own parlor. He was a widower and not overly social. Indeed, it was her understanding that he spent most of his time in the country.
“I bashed him over the head and left him for dead,” Nicholas said mildly and crossed the room to where a decanter and glasses sat waiting on a table. “Ah, I see Edwards is efficient as always. He’s working out extremely well. I’m quite pleased with him.”
“Oh?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did he help you bury the body?”
He glanced at her with an amused smile. “I assume you would like a brandy.”
“Yes, of course, although it won’t do you any good, you know.”
He chuckled. “I don’t expect it to.”
“Then your expectations will be met.” She accepted the glass. “Well?”
“Well.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I thought I did.”
“Nicholas!”
“Very well, I confess.” He shrugged. “I did not bash him over the head. Indeed if anyone was the injured party in our transaction, it was myself.”
She snorted.
Nicholas sipped his drink. “Even though his lordship was eager to sell and retire to his estate in the country, he wanted an exorbitant amount of money for this place. Fortunately, I was willing and able to spend an exorbitant amount.”
“Why?” she said sharply, although she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.
“Property is always a good investment.”
“And?”
“And I am always looking for good investments. I could scarcely go wrong with this one.” He swirled the brandy in his glass. “It is an excellent location in a fine neighborhood.”
“It is one door away from my house,” she snapped.
He grinned. “I said it was an excellent location.”
A horrible thought struck her, and she stared. “Surely you aren’t planning on living here after Christmas?”
“Oh, but I am. Indeed, I have been living here for the past several days. I’m rather surprised you hadn’t noticed.”
She hadn’t noticed, but then she probably wouldn’t have unless they had left their respective houses at the same moment. “Why aren’t you living with your uncle?”
“I value my privacy and my independence, as does my uncle. Surely you can understand that.”
“Go on.”
“I thought, and he agreed, that having separate residences would suit us both best.”
“I daresay the two of you could live in Thornecroft House for years and scarcely cross one another’s path. The place is enormous.”
“And this house is not.” He glanced around the room and smiled. “Still, it’s a good size and quite to my liking.”
Elizabeth had scarcely noticed anything since she’d walked through the door. Now, she scanned the parlor curiously. The proportions were pleasant enough but not easy to discern given the vast amount of furnishings the room contained. The word that came to mind was full. Or rather stuffed. There were no less than a half dozen chairs and at least two sofas, plus tables, desks, several clocks, all manner of bric-a-brac, and a great deal of statuary. The mantel was lined with porcelain pots and vases, Chinese in appearance, and similar pieces perched on available space around the room. If she could have imagined a setting for Nicholas, this would not have been it.
“I purchased the place fully furnished. Halstrom apparently never saw an item of questionable interest that he could resist acquiring. He fancied himself something of a collector, I believe, although there is no rhyme nor reason in the varied assortment of articles to be found anywhere in the house. Indeed, he was as eager to rid himself of this stuff as he was to rid himself of the house. I can well understand why.” He grimaced. “It is not to my taste, and I anticipate making a great number of changes, but it will suit for now.” He nodded at the vases on the mantel. “The porcelain, however, is mine.”
She raised a brow. “You collect pottery?”
“No. I collect fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Ming dynasty porcelain.” He set down his glass and made his way to the fireplace, dodging a fainting couch, two antique French chairs, and a very large bronze Mercury. “Aside from its age, it’s really quite unique.” He picked up a small, long-necked vase with a blue-on-white design. “It’s made from a special clay found in only one region of China. It took a dozen or so people simply to produce one individual jar or vase. Blue and white is more common than the colored pieces, although I do have a few of those. Most of mine have imperial markings, that is they were destined only for use at the imperial palace.”
He turned the vase over in his hands. “Regardless of the effort of the craftsmen or the rarity of the clay, if a piece had so much as the tiniest imperfection, it would be shattered and discarded.”
She stared. “I never imagined you would collect pottery.”
“Imperial Ming dynasty porcelain,” he said firmly. “And I did not set out to collect it. A small collection came into my possession as payment for a debt, and I found the history and the beauty of it fascinating and quite compelling.” He shrugged. “And it’s a valuable investment.”
“A
s is this house.”
“Exactly.”
“Investment.” She snorted in disbelief. “I don’t believe you for a moment. I believe you bought this house for one reason and one reason only.”
“Location?”
“Exactly. It’s located directly next to my house.”
“You live in a very nice neighborhood.”
“It was a very nice neighborhood,” she snapped.
He studied her curiously. “Did you mean it when you said honesty was a condition of your proposal?”
“Absolutely.”
“Very well then. Let me be honest. In the next few minutes I fully intend to take you in my arms and carry you up the stairs and into my bedchamber.”
“I don’t want to be taken in your arms and carried up the stairs and into your bedchamber. I want to talk about why you’ve purchased the house next to mine. I want to know exactly what your intentions are in doing so.”
He continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “Once there I intend to disrobe you in a very slow and methodical manner.”
“Nicholas.” The man was impossible to ignore.
“I shall begin with your dress, of course.” He sipped at his brandy, his gaze intense. “Lovely gown, by the way. It flatters the green of your eyes.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, pushing away the images his words produced. “That’s all very well and good, but —”
“While in the process, I shall run my mouth lightly over your bare shoulders. Kiss the curve of your neck and that charming spot at the top of your spine.”
His voice was low, and she could almost feel his hands upon her. “You intend to do that, do you?”
“Indeed I do. You will scarcely note that your dress is now a puddle of silk around your feet. Next, I shall peel your petticoats slowly down the length of your legs.”
“Nicholas.” In spite of her resolve, the word was more a sigh than a protest. “Stop.”
He ignored her. “Then I shall turn my attentions to your corset. Blasted nuisances, to my mind. I don’t know why women put up with them. Although there is little I find more attractive than a woman clad in only a corset. In addition, there is something quite intoxicating about loosening the laces of a woman’s corset — your corset — and feeling your body relax with relief against my hands, your skin through the thin fabric of your chemise warm against my fingers.”
A Visit From Sir Nicholas (Effington Family Book 9) Page 17