Please. Let me please you.
Tonight, I believe I'll dream of your mouth.
Until next time, Nick
"Do you think they are engaging in the Sport of Venus?" Aurora asked Melanie the following afternoon, watching from the upstairs bedroom as their brother left the house, whistling. "I don't. Nicholas doesn't have that heavy-lidded, relaxed look that Jake Delaney so often has following a night with Gillian. Nicholas looks... tense."
"You may be right." Melanie turned away from the window and faced her sister. "I don't know what is wrong with him. Charlotte said she was up late last night and overheard him telling his valet he'd be at either Brooks or the Turf Club in case one of us needed him. Why, I ask you, is he playing at being a man-about-town instead of slaying at home and wooing his wife?"
"It's a sad thing," Aurora agreed, answering a knock at her bedchamber door. Charlotte swept into the room and took a seat at the dressing table. Aurora continued, "I had such hopes when Nicholas installed Sarah in the master suite. But then she tells all of London that they're annulling the marriage, and as if that weren't enough, you'll never guess what Hermione Lassiter whispered in my ear at Madame Meurice's yesterday."
"What's that?" asked Charlotte as she set about experimenting with different hairstyles.
"She said she overheard her mother tell her father she saw Nicholas walking with Lady Steele along Rotten Row the day we arrived from Scotland."
Charlotte dropped her hairbrush. "No!"
"That's what she said."
Aurora tapped her lips with an index finger. "Maybe that's a good sign. Maybe he was telling Horrible Helen he couldn't see her anymore."
Melanie sank into a chair. "Or maybe he was telling her to be patient, that the annulment was in the works and that they could be together soon."
The three young women shared a sigh at that idea. Then Aurora said, "I don't believe that. Nicholas wants to keep Sarah. I know he feels desire for her. Some of the looks he gives her all but set the carpets afire."
"Then why hasn't he seduced her?"
"Maybe he has and they are being discreet. I've seen Sarah look his way a time or two, also. She's not immune to him, I tell you."
They mulled that over a few moments before Charlotte shook her head. "No, I don't think that's it. Melanie, you're not the only person who has heard some disturbing news. Yesterday, Sarah told me she still plans to return to Texas after my wedding."
"Oh, no," Aurora groaned. "I was afraid of that. And if she returns to Texas that means she won't stay married to Nicholas, and he won't seduce her because it would risk our being tainted by the scandal of divorce. It also means that walk with Lady Steele might have meant exactly what we're most afraid it meant."
Melanie winced. "I'll move to Texas with Sarah before I'll tolerate Horrible Helen as a sister-in-law."
"I'll go with you." Aurora shuddered.
"Well, I can't go because I'm marrying Rodney," Charlotte pointed out. "And since I don't want you two to go, we just need to come up with a different solution. We obviously cannot count on Nicholas to solve the problem properly."
For the next few minutes, the three sisters debated a dozen different responses to the day's revelations. They finally whittled the choices down to two. "Very well, then," Melanie said. "Which is it? Do we go to Sarah, tell her the whole sordid story, then enlist her help? Or, do we focus our attentions on Horrible Helen and do our best to convince her she would not be at all happy with us as sisters-in-law?"
"How would we do that?" Charlotte asked.
"Embarrass her." Aurora lifted a perfume bottle from the mirrored tray on Melanie's dressing table and sniffed. "Terribly. Publicly. Not something scandalous, but something prankish."
"Actually," Melanie said after pondering a moment. "I don't see why we can't do both. Sarah has told us she considers Nicholas her friend. Surely she'll want to protect him from the likes, of Lady Steele. She may even have some fine ideas about an embarrassing joke to play."
"True." Aurora gestured toward a tortoiseshell comb for Charlotte to try. "Although, I think I already have an idea about that. If you'd be willing to sacrifice for the cause, Charlotte, your engagement ball would be the perfect place to spawn a trick."
"You are right," Charlotte offered glumly. "Something in our own home would be much simpler to set in motion. However, I do not think we should take Sarah into our confidence. In telling her about Horrible Helen we run the risk that she will inform Nicholas what we're about."
Melanie shook her head. "I think that's a risk we must take. Here's what I think we should do. I think we should ask for Sarah's help in thwarting Nick's relationship with Lady Steele, but keep our idea about embarrassing the Ice Queen to ourselves. We have two weeks before the engagement ball. If Sarah can help us solve the problem by then, we won't need to do anything untoward at Charlotte's ball."
The sisters shared a look, then all three nodded. Aurora said, "It's settled then. Charlotte, why don't you address a ball invitation to Horrible Helen. I'll see if Sarah is willing to talk with us now."
"Now?" Charlotte grimaced. "This afternoon?"
"Why put it off? Besides, sister dear, as a bride-to-be you should keep in mind that old wedding superstition: Happy is the bride whose brother dumps his detested darling."
"Yes." Charlotte gave a madonna-like smile. "You know, I've always liked that one."
* * *
Nick had a bounce in his step and a song in his heart as he approached the tidy house in Tavistock Square. This was the second call he'd paid at the residence today, having been told by the housekeeper to return at this time because the party he'd come to call upon was out shopping.
He'd put the wait to good use, taking tea at his club and asking casual questions of fellow members about Sheldon, Endicott, and that rounder Trevor Chambers. Even the incident involving a clumsy, drunken baron, his gravy-laden plate, and Nick's trousers proved to be a boon. While he waited for the servant to return from Weston House with a change of clothes for him, Nick struck up a conversation with a baron who proved to be a player in the racing set. By the time Nick had donned clean trousers, he'd secured an invitation to watch an Arabian run during a racing club gathering the next week at the baron's country home. Other invited guests included Lord Robert Endicott.
All in all, it had been a good day's work, and now as he approached number 12, Tavistock Square, he looked forward to the reward he had dreamed of for years. Bounding up the front steps, he sounded the knocker. The housekeeper answered the door. "Hello again, Lord Weston."
"Is she home yet?" he asked.
"Yes, and she was delighted to learn you had come to call. She wanted to take advantage of the beautiful afternoon, so she is waiting for you in the park across the street. Do you have your key?"
"I do. Thank you, Mrs. Hansen." Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "I don't suppose you sent any of your scones with her?"
A smile wreathed the housekeeper's face. "Of course I did. I know you well enough by now after all these years, my lord. She has a basket with scones and your favorite strawberry jam."
Nick leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Mrs. Hansen, I love you. Run away with me."
She blushed and pushed familiarly at his shoulder. "Go on with you, scamp. They're waiting."
He chuckled all the way to the iron gate. Digging into his pocket, he removed his ring of keys and searched for the appropriate one. He didn't keep a key to her house, but he did have one for the park since they met there so often.
Metal groaned as the gate swung open, then shut with a clang, locking automatically behind him. He started down the graveled path, headed for the spot where they most often gathered. Soon, the music of children's laughter reached his ears. A smile broke across his face as a pair of towheaded youngsters ran shrieking across the path in front of him.
As usual, the boy was chasing the girl. The boy's height advantage worked against him as his sister darted under shrubs and around trees. Ni
ck laughed softly as he watched young Millicent slow her flight just long enough to fling a bough in her brother's face. She reminded him so much of Aurora.
"That's it, Millie!" the boy shouted, increasing his speed. "Nothing will save you now."
Ever the knight in shining armor for ladies in distress, Nick cupped his hands over his mouth and called out, "I will save you, Millie."
The two children halted in their tracks. A wide grin split young Thomas's face, while Millie called out, "Papa Nick! Papa Nick! We've been waiting for you forever."
Nick knelt on one knee as they ran toward him, launching themselves into his arms. He hugged the children fiercely, then as Millicent started babbling in his ear about a recent spelling test score and Thomas reported on the collie pup that was the newest member of the family, Nick gazed over their shoulders and spied the dark-haired woman clucking her tongue in feigned exasperation. "Hello, love."
"Hello, Nick. We've missed you."
"And I've missed you, too," he said as he gave the children one more squeeze, then stood. Glancing down at the children, he said, "Mrs. Hansen told me she sent treats. Would you bring them to us at the park bench beside the fountain, please?"
"Sure, Papa Nick," the boy said.
"I'll race you, Thomas," Millicent added, taking off. "Well be right back."
Nick waited until the children were out of earshot, then he took the woman's hands in his, leaned over, and placed a tender kiss upon her cheek. "I have news, sweetheart. Good news. Wonderful news, in fact."
Worry dimmed the beauty's eyes. "About your annulment? About Sarah?"
"Aye, I have tidings on that front, too, but that is not why I am here. Susan..." he cupped her face in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes, allowing her to see his pleasure in what he had to convey. Softly, he said, "I've found him, Susan. I've found Tom."
She went still, and her voice croaked. "Tom?"
"Aye. He is alive and well, and he has never married. And Susan, he's here. Here in London."
Susan Harris gasped and pulled from his grasp, taking an inadvertent step backward. She brought her hands up to her chest, clasped them. "Tom is in London?"
Nick nodded. "If you want, I'll send him to you tonight."
"Tonight? Oh, Nick. Tonight?"
His grin broke like sunshine after a storm. "The moment he arrives at his rooms."
"Oh, Nick. Thank you. Thank you. Oh, Nick!" Laughing, she threw herself into his arms. His laughter joined hers as he lifted off the ground and twirled her around. She placed grateful kisses on his brow, his cheeks, his lips. "You are so wonderful. So dear. I love you, love you, love you!"
"I love you, too, sweetheart," he replied as he set her feet back on the ground. "I love all of you, and I'm so happy to finally make this particular report."
At that point and in the incomprehensible way of females reacting to good news, Susan burst into tears. She threw herself into his arms and sobbed against his coat. Nick held her, smiling, shaking his head.
That's when he spied Sarah.
The number thirteen brings a bride bad luck.
Chapter 14
"Papa Nick! Papa Nick!"
As the children's cries echoed on the warm, gentle breeze, Sarah felt her heart begin to break. She stood outside the garden gate and watched the pair of children greet Nick like a returning hero, a returning... father. Then Sarah heard her husband call Susan Harris "love."
She watched them touch, speak soft, intimate words, and embrace. She watched Nick lift Susan Harris and twirl her around. Laughing. She watched the other woman kiss Nick's mouth, then heard her declare her love.
Sarah swayed on her feet and grasped a cold iron fence rail for support when Nick voiced his love for Susan in return. It was more than she could bear. It was a nightmare. She'd had no idea he could hurt her this badly.
Again.
Then Nick looked around and saw her. Their gazes met and held.
Like Texas heat on an August afternoon, emotion rolled off her husband in waves. But where Sarah expected to see guilt, she spied frustration, indignation, righteousness. And expectation. Silently making demands upon her.
The children returned, carrying a basket and a blanket, and Nick released both his hold on Susan Harris and his lock on Sarah's gaze. Nick and Susan both turned their attention to the children. Obviously siblings, the pair shared blue eyes, a slender frame, and smiles that lit their faces. Judging from the difference in their height, Sarah guessed the boy to be only a year or so older than his sister. He'd be nine, she realized, this handsome child whom Susan had been carrying when she left Fort Worth. Idly, Sarah wondered if he'd been named for his father.
Her gaze shifted to the girl who now gazed worshipfully up at Nick. He reached down and pulled her braid and in doing so, tugged Sarah's heartstrings until they hurt. "Oh, Nick."
She tried to turn away, to flee, but her feet wouldn't move, not even when her husband spoke to the girl, gestured toward Sarah and then the garden gate. As if from a great distance, she watched the girl skip to the gate, turn the latch, and push it open.
"Please come in, ma'am," the girl called. "My Papa Nick says he wants to introduce us."
He wouldn't be so cruel, would he? Sarah looked up, found her husband staring at her, his blue eyes bright with challenge, She worked to find both her voice and the strength to move. "I can't," she said to the child, backing away from the fence. "I'm sorry, I can't." She turned around and started to hurry away. Away from the park, away from her husband, away from her past and unacknowledged dreams of the future.
Then he stopped her with a word. "Don't."
Her breath came shallow and fast as if she had run a mile. She remained frozen in place, even when she heard his footsteps approach.
Nick said, "You drive me crazy, woman. Worse than all my sisters—all six of them—lumped together. I want you to turn around and come meet the children and speak with Susan. She'll have some questions for you about Fort Worth."
Finally, she found her voice. "You want me to talk to her?"
"I expect you to talk to her. Have some faith in me, Sarah. I think it's about time."
Seconds dragged out and felt like minutes. Hours, even. And during that silent passage of time she heard the echo of his voice from long ago. I'm not that baby's father.
I believe him. She believed in him. In the very marrow of her bones, Sarah knew that Nick was not the father of those children, and as she closed her eyes and absorbed the truth, the ice around her heart cracked and slowly began to melt.
"Sarah?"
He was asking her to have faith in him. Faith in him as a man, a friend, a husband.
She turned around. He was tall and handsome and oh so annoyed. Fiercely annoyed.
It made her want to smile. In that moment, as the vise around her heart eased and the lump in her throat dissipated, she realized she'd never lost faith in him. Not on that awful wedding night, and not the following morning when he left her.
What Sarah had lost was her courage.
It was true. When the moment of truth arrived, she'd been afraid—of lovemaking, of leaving home and family and friends, of being a wife.
She'd been much better at being a bride.
"Sarah!"
She cleared her throat and said, "By all means, Lord Weston, introduce me to Susan's children. They appear to be quite delightful."
He shot her a hard look, then visibly relaxed, although the dare in his look didn't entirely fade. "Actually, they're scamps. Lovable, but constant trouble. They keep Susan busy from dawn till dusk."
He extended his elbow and waited for her to take it, then escorted her to the park bench where Susan Harris now sat making an obvious effort not to eavesdrop. "Sarah, you remember my friend Susan."
Sarah nodded. "I do. Hello, Miss Harris. It is nice to see you again."
"Welcome to England, Lady Weston. May I introduce you to my children, Thomas and Millicent Sheldon?"
"Hello Thomas, Millicent
. It's very nice to meet yo..." Sarah's voice faltered as the import of Susan's words filtered through her brain. Sheldon. As in Tom Sheldon?
Nick watched her with a knowing look. "Their father is an old friend of mine."
"Oh, I see." But of course, she didn't.
Susan took pity on her and, after sending the children to the basket to get their treat, explained. "Tom and I married secretly shortly before he left Fort Worth. He signed on with a cattle drive with the intention of making enough to give us a start, and that was the last I saw of him. I thought he'd died."
She turned a luminous, grateful gaze upon Nick.
"Until a few moments ago, I still believed that. What I don't know is what happened to keep him away from us. It must have been something horrible."
Sarah recalled her reaction to Tom Sheldon upon his return to Fort Worth. He'd been a bear with a thorn in his paw—and money in his pockets. She hadn't liked him at all. Considering the uncomfortable questions he'd asked, it was a natural reaction on her part. She had a vivid recollection of the morning he'd knocked on her front door and made sharp inquiries about events Sarah had spent years trying to forget. "He asked about you."
"He did?"
Sarah nodded. "He'd heard you'd left town with my husband and he wanted details."
"What did you tell him?" Nick asked.
"Not much. All I knew was that Susan had boarded the train with Nick."
Nick's gaze followed the path of a sparrow flying from a lamppost to a winter-bare tree. "You never asked about her in your letters."
She looked away and admitted, "I didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about it."
"You didn't believe me when I said I wasn't her child's father."
"Children," Susan hastened to correct. "You're not my children's father, Lord Weston." To Sarah she said, "They're twins."
Twins. Oh, of course. That explained it. Sarah's gaze found the two youngsters now seated on a blanket chomping happily on scones. "Now I understand Mr. Sheldon's ire. He knew he'd lost his family."
The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) Page 18