Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “You were knocking at the door, as though you were in distress.”
“Sorry, I was having a difficult time with the lock. I let my temper get the best of me.”
“Let me try it,” Charlotte said, stepping into the room. “Elizabeth, dear, why don’t you go on to your room? I am sure your mother will be checking on you soon.”
The girl looked relieved. “Very well, I shall see you both at breakfast.”
Charlotte shut the door behind them. “The truth.”
Nicolette nodded toward the door.
Charlotte lifted a tawny brow, and with a malicious smile she walked across the room and took a seat in one of the chairs beside the fireplace. “So, what are you up to?”
“I am getting ready to leave.”
“What?” This came from beneath the bed, a moment before Darian slid out, his pants on but unbuttoned.
Charlotte’s mouth gaped open, clearly surprised by Darian’s state of undress. “What in God’s name are you up to now, Kedgwick? Your mother will have your head if she finds you in here. She looked for you earlier during Elizabeth’s pitiful performance. I do not have to wonder where you were...since I did not see Nicolette either. I was on my way here when Elizabeth rushed behind me.”
Nicolette did not have time to be reprimanded. She only had one thought in mind and that was to get to London posthaste. Rushing past the widow and Darian, she pulled her clothing from drawers and the wardrobe, tossing them on the bed.
“Nicolette, what in God’s name,” Charlotte inquired.
“I must leave. Now.”
“You will not leave at night. It is not safe,” Darian said, agitation filling his voice.
“I will chance it,” Nicolette replied, reaching for her valise. She grabbed hold of the bell pull and rang.
“For Christ’s sake, Nicolette. Will you stop for an instant,” Darian said, his tone relaying his fury.
“I do not have time.”
“He left you, Nic. He took the money and ran.”
He might as well have slapped her. “Salvatore did not take the money. I know him.”
“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” Charlotte asked standing, hands on hips.
“Salvatore left this afternoon. Simon paid him to leave me,” Nicolette said matter-of-factly.
Darian laughed without mirth. “Salvatore had a choice.”
In that moment she had never hated anyone more. “I do not believe you, Darian. Salvatore loves me, I know that.”
The nerve in her jaw ticked in double time. “He loved you so much he had you seduce me? He was willing to pimp you in order to get his revenge.”
Charlotte gasped.
“He has spent his entire life taking care of you. He is a young man, Nicolette,” Darian said, grabbing hold of her wrist. “Allow him the chance to live for once. He has money, he has a career, and he will survive, as you will survive without him.”
Nicolette wrenched away from him. Did he speak the truth? Did Salvatore truly leave because he had made a fortune and wished to be free of her? Did he look at her as a hindrance?
Nicolette blinked back tears. “He loves me.”
“He does. I will not deny that.” Darian lifted a dark brow. “And if you loved him, you would let him go. Give him the freedom he has never had.”
“Be quiet, Darian!” Charlotte put her hand on Nicolette’s shoulder. “Do not leave tonight. I understand your haste, but the roads are not safe. You could be set upon by thieves, and lord knows who else.”
She was right. Nicolette knew it. She glanced at Darian. “You need to go.”
Darian quirked his lips.
Charlotte turned to him and motioned him out of the room.
When the door shut behind him, Nicolette finally allowed herself to cry.
Chapter Sixteen
Though Simon Laurent had given his word that he would do everything in his power to keep Darian from destroying him, Salvatore was fast realizing that his brother had the power to destroy him, with or without the marquess’s help.
Already he could feel the chill when entering a reception hall after playing. Those who had been kind, now held their chins higher, smiled tightly, turned their back to him. Even the applause came less often.
He had known it would all end one day, but he had just not expected it to be so soon...and not because of his brother.
Perhaps he would go to Paris and visit his old friend Count de Vassey. Yet every time he thought of the kindly old man, he thought of Nicolette. How happy they had been there. There was always Greece, but that would be even worse, since Nicolette loved the villa so much. Every city seemed to have a memory attached to the one woman he could not get out of his mind.
A knock sounded at his door. He pulled on a shirt, and answered it to find Nalise, a pretty Irish girl with red hair and forest green eyes. His stomach tightened. Standing there she reminded him of Nicolette in so many ways.
The night he had returned to the brothel he had met her. Only fifteen, and an orphan, Nalise had found it easier to sell her body than work as a governess or as a servant to a man who would use her any way he pleased.
Wearing a gaudy black satin gown, she smiled prettily. “What are ya’ doin’, Salvatore,” she asked, biting into her rouged lower lip.
“I am preparing for tonight’s concert.”
She played with the ribbon that held her bodice together. “Where da ya’ play?”
“At Baron Cardowis’ anniversary celebration, and I have been asked to play two sets.”
“Would ya’ like a little tumble before ya’ go. I won’t charge ya’.”
He had not bedded anyone since Nicolette, and though his body yearned for release, he could not. “Not tonight, Nalise.”
She pouted. “Please.” Her gaze shifted from his, down his chest, and lower still. “I can make you happy.”
“I am sure you could…but I am already running late.”
“Tonight then?”
He would have to leave here. He knew that now. In fact, he had stayed far too long as it was. “Perhaps,” he said, having no such inclination.
She went up on the tips of her toes, kissed him on the lips, and walked away, her hips swaying.
Salvatore shut the door behind her. Perhaps he should give into his desires? Maybe then he could forget about Nicolette, forget the feelings she had fired within him.
God help him but he could not even leave London in the hopes of running into her again.
He had heard she was in the city, staying with Charlotte. There had been many a time when he’d driven past her townhouse, looking out the carriage window, hoping to catch a mere glimpse.
How did she fare, he wondered. Did she miss him even a little?
*****
“You are melancholy again.”
Nicolette glanced up from where she sat at the piano and forced a smile. Charlotte had been kind enough to invite her to stay at her London townhouse, and for the past two months the widow had made it her mission to keep her mind off Salvatore, an almost impossible task.
Having left Kedgwick Hall, Nicolette had gone straight to the hotel where they’d been staying since arriving in London. To her great regret Salvatore was not there. She had gone to every venue in town, asked everyone they had worked for in the past if they had seen him. The answer was the same. No one had seen him.
It was as though he had disappeared from the face of the Earth. No letter, no warning, just gone.
For two months she had waited for word, spending endless days, taking refuge in her writing, pouring her heart into the notes. Salvatore would be proud of her progress. She practiced more now than she ever did, but she did so now for a different reason. Music was her saving grace, her pa
ssion, and if she did not have it, she feared she would die from the pain.
She settled her hand over her stomach. She had not had her menses for two months, and though she was not sick in the mornings, she was almost certain she carried Salvatore’s child. She did not dare tell another soul, not even Charlotte, her constant companion.
As she grew larger, she would have no choice but to confide in someone.
A footman walked in with a silver tray bearing calling cards and letters. Charlotte set aside her needlepoint, and one by one went through the correspondence.
“There are several letters for you. One from your father and Henrietta. They’ve returned from Italy.” Charlotte released a sigh. “And Darian is at it again. Will the man never give up?”
Darian’s letters had gone unread. Often times she just tossed them in the fire. Charlotte would watch, her brows furrowed, but she remained silent.
Nicolette ran her fingers over the keys again. Her father had made it a point to include her in his life. He wanted her to move into his London townhouse, but Nicolette would not have it. Salvatore would have never left her had it not been for Simon Laurent. Her father once again had ruined everything. True, she was being recognized from all those who had snubbed her before, but she had never coveted their acceptance to begin with.
“Oh my goodness!” Charlotte exclaimed, coming to her feet. “We have been invited to Lord Cardowis’ anniversary party—and it is tonight.”
Nicolette cringed. She had no desire to go to a ball. She had attended two so far, and every time she had danced, conversed and then come home sadder than before. It was the first time she had been without Salvatore, and every dance partner she compared to him. She did not want their attention. She wanted only to have the life she’d once led—traveling, playing...being with Salvatore.
She hated what her life had become. Women coming to call, to have tea and speak of trivial things such as the weather, and gossip about things Nicolette did not care about. The men were even more tedious than the women. She didn’t like being thought of as a prized mare. From the moment she and Charlotte entered a room, she could feel the eyes of the men on her, the women gossiping behind her back. Often times she heard Darian’s name attached to hers.
Thank goodness he had been out of the country.
Charlotte bit into her lower lip. “Darian is back in town. He shall be there tonight! Oh, as will your father!”
Nicolette did not have the heart to tell Charlotte that now she was even less inclined to go. Though she did enjoy conversing with her father and Henrietta, Darian was a completely different matter.
“Come, we have so much to do. I think you should wear the new gown we bought at Madame le Broe’s last week. I have a string of pearls that will look beautiful woven through your hair.” Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Oh, what fun it shall be.”
Nicolette could do nothing but follow her excited friend up the stairs to their respective bedchambers. She did not want to ruin Charlotte’s excitement. It was most unfortunate that the widow had fallen in love with Darian Tremayne. The man did not deserve a woman like her. She was too good for the rakehell earl.
*****
Nicolette had been at the ball for hours, dancing every once in awhile, but for the most part trying to stay as far away from Darian Tremayne as humanly possible.
The earl, with his mother on his arm, had entered the cavernous room, and stopped at the top of the stairs while the footman called out his name. Nicolette counted to thirty before the man proceeded down the stairway, his gaze scouring the crowd, which became all excited at his arrival.
She had tried to disappear in the crowd, stepping behind the portly Viscount Ladley for a time, but as a sheep could not hide from the wolf for long, so she could not hide from Darian.
Dressed in formal black, as many of the other men, he had reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Nicolette, you have only grown more beautiful with time.” He turned to Charlotte. “Hello Char, how are you?”
Charlotte lifted her hand, and Darian obediently took it and quickly kissed it.
He turned his attention back to Nicolette, and she immediatey noted her friend’s disappointment. “May I get you some punch?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Nicolette replied.
“I would as well,” Charlotte chimed in. Darian smiled tightly at his old friend and motioned for a footman to serve them. God forbid he actually make an effort and retrieve the drinks.
Darian’s gaze hovered over her cleavage. Her breasts had grown these past months, making her gowns fit tighter in the bodice than before. Tonight she felt downright obscene, and it didn’t help that Darian all but drooled. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You tease me mercilessly, Nicolette. Already I want you in my bed.”
Merciful heavens, were they back to that again?
She managed a weak smile, which disappeared a moment later when her father and Henrietta were introduced. Everyone went silent, and more than a few looked in her direction.
The crowd parted, and Darian, taking Nicolette by the hand—walked toward Simon and Henrietta.
Simon gave Darian a hearty clap on the back.
“Nicolette, my darling, how are you?” Henrietta asked, embracing her. Others watched the scene play out, and Nicolette hugged her stepmother and kissed her cheek. She adored Henrietta, and she would not give anyone room for speculation.
Her father stepped forward and brought her hand to his lips. “How lovely you are, my darling. I daresay that staying with Charlotte has worked wonders. It looks like you have put on a stone.”
The reference to her weight gain made Nicolette more than a bit embarrassed. She just hoped no one would guess what had caused it. “I feel very good,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder, hoping to find Charlotte heading their way, but the widow was no longer there.
“I have a surprise for you this evening, my dear,” Simon said, extending his arm. She wrapped her hand in the crook of his arm, leaving Henrietta and Darian to converse. “But first let us dance.”
Nicolette had always loved to dance, and it seemed odd to be doing so with her father, a man she had never dreamed to have a relationship with. He was quite light on his feet, and she had to admit that she liked the way he smiled at her, with such open adoration and approval. She could hear others talk, and she realized in that moment that despite him sending Salvatore away, she was happy to have him in her life. She had not realized how much she had come to depend on Salvatore in that role.
The song ended, and went right into a waltz, a dance that was still relatively new, and looked down upon by some. It appeared that the host did not have such qualms as he stepped out on the floor, pulling his wife to him.
“May I?” Simon asked, and Nicolette placed her hands in his, remembering too well the last time she had danced the waltz. It had been with Salvatore. They had danced so scandalously close, that others had whispered behind their hands, and she had loved shocking them all.
Suddenly a shadow fell over them. “May I have this dance?” Darian asked, a wolfish smile on his face.
“Of course you may,” Simon responded, handing her over to Darian without a second glance.
Darian was not as light on his feet as her father, nor did he hold her at such a respectable distance. Nicolette braced her arms against him. “You are the most beautiful woman here.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, noting the group of women watching them, many behind fans. “Is Elizabeth here?”
“No, did you not hear?” He laughed wickedly. “We are no longer betrothed.”
Now that was shocking. “Truly?”
“Indeed.” He smiled down at her, obviously of no mind to tell all.
“What happened?”
“I realized that I was marrying
the wrong woman.”
Her stomach rolled. She did not want to ask the next question, and it seemed she didn’t have to since he added, “You are the woman I want, Nicolette.”
“I do not wish to marry.”
His lips quirked. “All women wish to marry, Nicolette, and your father has been good enough to accept on your behalf.”
How like a man to tell her what she wanted.
“Your mother would not allow us to marry.”
He sighed heavily. “True, at first she was distraught, but I have assured her I will marry soon, and have lots of children.” His gaze shifted to her breasts. “I can hardly wait to get you with child.”
Nicolette missed a beat, and nearly tripped over Darian’s feet. He steadied her. “Ah, I can see you are most anxious, too.”
Thankfully the song ended, and she nodded curtly before departing. Darian grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her out onto the veranda, which was lit up with multicolored lights. An elderly couple sat on a stone bench and looked up when Nicolette and Darian walked out. They smiled at them, then each other.
“I have missed you horribly,” he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it. “I swear, Nicolette. There was not a day that I did not think of you.”
She ripped her hand from his. “Stop it!”
“Why did you not respond to my letters?”
She looked up at him, and hated how his eyes reminded her so much of Salvatore’s. “I did not have anything to say.”
He put his fingers under her chin, lifting the slightest bit. “I have forgiven you.”
How very admirable of him. She yearned to slap his hand away, but did not dare. The walls had eyes and ears, and she did not want to shame Simon and Henrietta in any way.
She opened her mouth to respond when she heard the thrum of a violin coming from the ballroom. The breath lodged in her throat, and she looked to the large windows that lined the ballroom. She could not see past the crowd, and a huge column stood in way of the stage.
A Dangerous Game Page 17