by Brenda Joyce
“Really? Need I remind you of our past meetings?”
“Need I remind you that it was your behavior that was abominable?” she cried.
“I suppose it is first-rate for a lady to strike a man with her riding crop, not to mention ride about the countryside dressed as a boy.”
Nicole drew herself up. “I’m leaving. I don’t have to stand here and listen to your insults.”
He caught her arm as she strode past him, whipping her around. She did not even try to pull away, knowing it would be useless. His face was too close to hers and she could not take even the shallowest of breaths. “Leave London.”
“You cannot order me to leave the city!”
“You will not succeed in your endeavor, Nicole.”
She jerked her arm free. “I am not trying to entice you away from Elizabeth! I have no interest in a philandering, immoral cad like yourself!”
“No?” He caught her chin in one large hand, and before she knew it his lips were very close to her own. “Really?”
“Don’t do this! What do you seek to gain?”
They stared at each other. His jaw was clenched tightly. His fingers hurt her face. She waited for his kiss, expecting it, wanting it, afraid of it, and him. Suddenly he released her.
“It’s what you seek to gain!” he said, his eyes blazing. “If you do not leave London, Nicole, I shall!”
“Good,” she shouted back. “Good! Then go! Because you are not going to give me orders as if I were your precious Elizabeth!”
He stared at her, so furiously angry that he was shaking. For an instant Nicole was certain that he was going to strike her—or drag her into his embrace and ravish her. But the instant passed, and before she could blink he was striding across the patio, away from her. He flung open the doors and then slammed them shut.
Nicole sank down onto the hard stone bench in the corner of the patio, trembling violently. She did not see the stars overhead, she could not see anything but him. Then she covered her face with her hands, which still shook. What was happening? Why, oh why, had she ever had to lay eyes on the Duke of Clayborough?
Unable to fight her despondency, Nicole gripped the windowsill and stared outside into the bright, clear October sunshine. She heard footsteps behind her, but did not move, recognizing them as her sister’s.
“Nicole, I am going driving in Hyde Park with friends. Charlie Ratcliffe has a new automobile. There’s room for one more, why don’t you join us?”
Nicole did not turn, not wanting Regina to see her face and ply her with probing questions. Although Regina had the innocent look of an angel, she was very clever, and she certainly knew Nicole as well as anyone, well enough to guess that something was seriously amiss. “I don’t think so. I am going horseback riding this afternoon,” Nicole said, although she had no such intentions.
Regina hesitated, then told her she would see her later and skipped out. Nicole sighed and turned away from the window, wandering aimlessly about the bright green morning room. Alone, she was haunted by the Duke’s image, his words, their encounter. It was like being possessed by the devil, and how she hated it, how she hated him.
Aldric appeared. “My Lady, the Viscountess Serle is here.”
“Don’t bother announcing me, Aldric,” Martha said, walking in. She took one look at her friend and turned to the butler. “Bring us tea, please, Aldric.”
When he had left, Martha came forward to sit by Nicole on the couch. “I have never seen you like this, Nicole, but somehow I had a terrible feeling that you would be down and out today. You must put him out of your mind. You must!”
“I cannot. Believe me, if I could, I would, but I cannot.”
“There are other men in London, many other men. Please, let me introduce you to some of them.”
“Oh, Martha, do not bother. My reputation precedes me.”
“You can change your reputation, Nicole, if you try!” Martha said with temper.
“Perhaps I do not want to,” she snapped back. Then she grabbed Martha’s hand. “I am sorry, it is not you I am angry at.”
“I know.”
“Coming to London was a mistake, a big mistake. I am going home.”
Martha looked at her for a long moment. “Running away? Like a coward?”
Nicole flushed.
“Will you let him chase you away?”
Nicole bit her lip. Martha did not know what had happened last night, but she did. Not only had he presumed to order her to leave London, he had actually challenged her by doing so. And he had dared to suggest that she was afraid of him! If she suddenly left, the Duke would think that he had succeeded in chasing her from town. He would also conclude that she was indeed a coward, and afraid of him. And apparently nothing was going to change his ridiculous assumption that she had come to London to entice him away from his precious Elizabeth anyway. She stiffened. That was a ridiculous assumption, wasn’t it?
Had she secretly hoped to win him from his betrothed? What other possible explanation could there be for her behavior in chasing him to London?
Nicole trembled, dismayed with herself. She had never been more confused in her life. She would rather let him think the worst, which he was intent upon doing anyway, than let him win their private battle. And never would she admit, not to him or to herself, that she could have possibly harbored such foolish motivations in coming to London. “You are right. I must stay a little longer, then.”
“Good! But you must not pine. This afternoon I am playing tennis at the club with several other ladies. We are missing a sixth. You are coming with us. It will be fun.”
“I don’t—”
“Nicole, you like tennis! You must get out and about and at least appear to have a good time, so he does not think you are pining for him.”
“You are very clever, Martha,” Nicole said, smiling reluctantly. “All right, I shall come.”
They arrived at the Club-Near-the-Strand early that afternoon. Nicole rode with Martha in her carriage, and entered as Martha’s guest. The attendant at the door obviously knew Martha, for he greeted her by name, checking her off of his list. Inside, they proceeded to find for themselves racquets and balls, then strolled outdoors to join the rest of their party.
Tennis was very popular these days, especially with young ladies. All of the courts were in play, except for the three that had been reserved for their group, and all of the players were women except for one pair of young men.
The rest of their party was already there, awaiting them. Five women sat around a table with a pitcher of lemonade, all clad in white shirtwaists and navy blue skirts, their racquets by their chairs. As Nicole and Martha approached, Martha murmured, “Oh, dear!”
Nicole missed a stride when she saw Elizabeth Martindale among the group. “You did not tell me she would be here!” And not only was the Duke’s fiancée present, but sitting beside her was Stacy Worthington.
“I did not know. I am sorry, Nicole.”
The ladies ceased their conversation abruptly as Nicole and Martha came to the table. “Hello,” Martha said. “I thought we needed a sixth, and I brought Lady Shelton, but I see I have erred.”
“So we can see,” Stacy said. Her glance was contemptuous. “I brought my cousin, Elizabeth, to make the sixth.” There was no mistaking her message that Nicole would not be welcome to play with them.
“I am sure we can work something out, Stacy,” Martha said politely, although her eyes were daggers as she looked at the brunette.
“That’s all right,” Nicole said quickly, trying very hard not to stare at Elizabeth, for this was the first time that she was seeing her up close. The perfect little blonde sat quietly amidst the obviously hostile group. “I am tired anyway. I will just take your carriage and go home and send the driver back for you.”
Martha gave her a look.
Nicole did not want to argue, and she gave Martha a look as well. Normally she would fight someone like Stacy, but Elizabeth’s presence effectively qu
elled her natural inclinations.
“Perhaps that would be best,” another girl said, a slender redhead wearing thin gold-framed spectacles. She glanced nervously at Nicole.
“I for one do not want to share my court time,” Stacy said.
“Stacy!” Elizabeth reproved. She stood. “I do not believe we have met.” Her smile was friendly. “I am Elizabeth Martindale, Lady Shelton.”
Nicole was motionless for a long moment, staring at the proffered hand. Finally she remembered her manners and took it. “How do you do?”
“Thank you. Lady Shelton, I do not mind sitting out and watching. Really, I don’t. You can play in my place. Actually, I am not overly fond of the sport.”
Nicole’s jaw tightened. The blonde’s warm smile never slipped, and her blue eyes appeared genuinely friendly. Very coldly, Nicole said, “That is quite all right, Lady Martindale. You need not give up your court time for me.”
“I really don’t mind,” Elizabeth said, only to be jabbed by her cousin, Stacy.
“If she wants to, let her go home,” Stacy said.
Elizabeth pursed her bow-shaped mouth. “Stacy, we have enough time that all can play even if I choose to do so.” She turned again to Nicole. “We can share court time, if you wish, but I warn you, I do tire easily.” Her smile reached out to Nicole again, making her very uncomfortable.
“All right,” Nicole heard herself say stiffly. “You may play first, though.” She could not form a smile, could not even try.
All the girls took to the courts they had reserved while Nicole sat alone at the courtside table, trying to watch but still upset by Elizabeth Martindale’s presence. The Duke of Clayborough’s betrothed seemed to be a nice person. Nicole could not get over her apparent friendliness. But it had to be insincere, didn’t it?
Nicole found herself ignoring all the players, except for Elizabeth, from whom she could not keep her gaze. She did indeed seem to tire easily, having no stamina or strength at all. She was the worst player on the courts, in fact, she could barely hit the ball. Was she, then, the kind of woman the Duke preferred? Some pale thin blonde? A woman too delicate even to play a passable game of tennis? A woman who had guileless blue eyes and an ever-ready smile? Nicole hated to admit it, but of all the girls she had just met, Elizabeth actually seemed all right. She was the only one who had tried to be friendly to her; even Martha’s friends Julie and Abigail had looked at her cautiously and had not attempted to speak with her. Nicole knew that Martha felt badly for having talked her into coming.
Not even ten minutes later, Elizabeth walked off of the court, panting and perspiring and quite red in the face. “I told you I tire easily,” she gasped, sinking down beside Nicole.
As much as Nicole disliked her, she quickly poured her a lemonade. “Are you all right?”
Unable to speak, Elizabeth fanned herself with a magazine left at the table, nodding. She drank thirstily. Finally she said, “Thank you. I just need to rest. I should not have come. I have not been feeling quite the thing these days.”
“You probably have a touch of the flu,” Nicole replied, twirling her racquet uncomfortably.
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said ruefully.
Nicole left her to join the others. For a while she played with Matilda, but it was a poor match, Matilda not even able to sustain a short volley. Stacy came over. “Let’s you and I play,” she said, rather snidely. “Matilda and Martha are more evenly matched.”
Nicole agreed, making sure Stacy did not see her expression, which had darkened with determination. Stacy was the best player on the court and her intention was obvious; Nicole was certain the other girl hoped to trounce her. The girls moved to opposite sides of the court and began to volley. Nicole played often with her brothers at a public court not far from Lessing and she was a good player. Now she hit the ball easily to Stacy, who returned it just as easily to her. Gradually, both girls began hitting the ball harder and harder. Suddenly Stacy drove the ball furiously at Nicole, who managed to return it even more furiously, causing Stacy to miss it on the run.
Both girls were panting, eyeing each other with determination and dislike, and the play began in earnest.
Whack! Stacy hit the ball. Wham! Nicole returned it. Back and forth the girls volleyed, as hard as they could. Again Stacy missed, this time running right into the fence, unable to stop. By now the other ladies had paused and gathered to watch, with Elizabeth coming to stand at the fence as well. Stacy was panting; Nicole was not even breathless.
“Had enough?” Nicole asked sweetly.
“What they say is true,” Stacy spat between great gulps of air. “You are no gentlewoman, you do not even play tennis like a lady!” With that, she stalked off of the court.
Nicole turned red with embarrassment and with anger, for Stacy had been trying to best her just as hard as she herself had been trying to win. The other ladies turned away, except for Martha and Elizabeth. Martha’s mouth was pursed. Slowly Nicole walked over to them.
“Please forgive Stacy,” Elizabeth said, touching Nicole’s arm.
Nicole pulled her arm away.
“She is not usually so rude; I don’t know what has come over her.” Elizabeth’s look was beseeching.
Nicole did not answer, and Elizabeth turned away.
“This was a mistake,” Nicole said to Martha.
“I forgot that witch Stacy would be here, Nicole, and I am sorry, but you must consider that she is awful to everyone who is not in her charmed circle. Just because she is Northumberland’s niece, she thinks the sun rises and sets at her whim. If she were not here, the other girls would have been more friendly, I am sure of it.”
“Your friends were dismayed by my presence.”
“That’s not true, Julie and Abigail are just quiet and shy. Give them another chance, I promise you, you will see that they are very nice ladies.”
Nicole nodded, and the two of them walked back to the group, now gathered around the table drinking lemonade. Elizabeth had pulled Stacy slightly away, and Nicole was shocked to hear her berating the brunette.
“How could you be so rude, Stacy? It was truly unbearable. You must offer your apologies to Lady Shelton at once.”
“I? Apologize to that barbarian? Sometimes you are blind, Elizabeth, you see nothing but good in everybody! Haven’t you heard about her? She is an Unacceptable, and nothing will ever change that!”
“You are being very unkind, very uncharitable, and it is not becoming,” Elizabeth rebuked. Then, seeing Nicole and Martha, she broke off. “Are you leaving already? Perhaps we should change partners, we still have court time left.”
Nicole thought that it was incredible, this woman had defended her, a stranger, to her cousin, and now she was seeking, obviously, to salvage the afternoon for no one’s benefit except Nicole’s. “I have another engagement, I am afraid.”
“Well, perhaps we will play another time,” Elizabeth said. “It was so nice to meet you, Lady Shelton.”
“And you,” Nicole managed, unable to cut her.
She and Martha left and were soon ensconced in the Serle carriage in silence. After many minutes, Martha looked at Nicole. “What are you thinking?”
Nicole bit her lip, looking up at the roof with despair. “I am thinking that she is not only pretty, she is nice.”
“Elizabeth is very nice,” Martha said quietly. “There is no one who does not like her.”
Nicole turned to stare out of the carriage without seeing Covent Garden, which they were passing. Is this why the Duke loved her? “Except me,” she said sadly.
Martha had no response.
“Lady Elizabeth will be down shortly, Your Grace.”
The Duke nodded, glancing once at his eighteen karat pocket watch and pacing restlessly about the small drawing room. It was unlike Elizabeth to be late, yet another fifteen minutes passed before she came down, dressed, he saw, not for supper and the theatre, but in a day gown. “Have you forgotten me?” he asked, surprised and
teasing her somewhat.
Elizabeth sighed, coming to him. “I am so sorry, Hadrian, I did not forget. I fear I have made a grievous error.”
She sank onto the couch and he sat beside her. “I doubt that,” he said. “Are you feeling ill?”
“I am just exhausted. I played some tennis this afternoon and it fatigued me terribly. I should have sent you word then that I must cancel our engagement, but I so wanted to see you, and I did not want to disappoint you, either. I had hoped that a nap might restore my spirits, but I have only just awakened and I am still exhausted.”
“Do not worry about me,” the Duke said. “You should not have played tennis, Elizabeth, and I agree, you should return to bed for the evening.”
She touched his hand. “You are not angry with me?”
“Of course not.” Then his gaze softened. “But was it worth it? Did you enjoy your outing?”
She looked at him with dismay. “It was not very pleasant, Hadrian, indeed, I am still upset!”
“What has upset you?”
“Two of the ladies were terribly rude to another one, cutting her dreadfully—and one of them was Stacy.”
“Stacy is not the kindest person we know.”
“I felt just awfully for Lady Shelton, really I did. And there is no excuse for it! I know that apparently there was some scandal a few years ago, but that is in the past, and it is wrong to hold one mistake against someone forever.”
The Duke was very still. “The woman they cut was Nicole Shelton?”
“Yes. Do you know her?”
He shifted. She had not left town. “Nicholas Shelton is now my neighbor, since I have come into possession of Chapman Hall. I dined with him and his family just before I returned to London.”
“Well, she was terribly hurt by the whole incident, I could tell. She is very proud and she tried to hide it, the dear. I told Stacy just how disappointed I was with her.”
The Duke cleared his throat. He was not merely uncomfortable with the conversation but with his past behavior and his innermost thoughts regarding the subject in question. It had been only the night before that Nicole Shelton had driven him into a nearly uncontrollable rage. It was only last night that he had been a hair’s breadth from taking her in his arms and doing with her what he willed. It was very unseemly for him to be discussing Nicole Shelton with his fiancée, considering all that had happened between them. “Stacy needs to be told off now and again. If I do not see you tonight, shall we postpone supper until tomorrow?” But why hadn’t she left London? Did she still think to seduce him away from Elizabeth?