At unusual, his mother’s brows lowered ominously. “Is he from a good family?”
“The best, actually.”
It didn’t take long. “You don’t mean Viscount Bellamy, the Duke of Albemarle’s grandson.”
“The very same.”
Her eyebrows flew the other direction. “The rumors about him are quite alarming.”
“Would you like me to send him away?”
She couldn’t see his smile when she gasped. “Send away a duke’s heir? What has gotten into you, Nicholas? You’ll have to make sure he only sees your father when he’s well, but we can’t send him away. Honestly, first you run wild with that girl—”
“I’d best not keep him waiting.” Nicholas left his mother to ponder his utter downfall alone.
In the entry hall, a well-dressed but dreadfully disheveled man was sending the household into an uproar waving his arms and ordering the servants about with an air of impossible superiority. “Thank God. Nick, tell them I’m not here to steal the silver.”
“I’ll tell them no such thing. What the devil happened to you?”
“First the ship was late, then the train.” Jasper embraced him with a clasped hand and a pat on the back. “I sacked that fellow I picked up in Cologne. He still can’t tie a cravat to save his life. I am, for the moment, living rough.”
“You could have at least written. You’ve sent my mother into an apoplexy.”
Smithson cleared his throat conspicuously.
“I have that effect on mothers.” Jas followed him to the billiard room. “Besides, I did write.”
“To order me to come back to France.”
“You should have listened. Then I wouldn’t have had to dash across the ocean like some refugee.”
“Refugees don’t travel first class.” It was too early, but Nicholas poured them both a drink anyway. No matter the timing, it was good to see Jasper and good reunions required whiskey. “How long did it take you to miss me, a day? You’d have to have left right after I did.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was two days.”
Nick leaned against the billiard table, leaving Jasper to lounge rakishly in the wing-back leather chair. “So what are you doing here?”
“Bringing you back, obviously.”
“Not a chance, Jas.”
“Do my feelings mean nothing? I’m the heir to a dukedom. Aren’t you supposed to see to my every whim?”
Nicholas sketched a bow, laden with extra flourishes. “My apologies, Your Grace. I can’t imagine what I was thinking, Your Grace. Whatever pleases you, Your Grace.”
Jasper laughed. “Excellent. Pack your bags. We leave within the hour.”
“I can’t.”
“Damn it, Nick.” Jas glared at him. “It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
“No, actually. It’s my father.” He explained the situation that had greeted him when he’d come home.
“So it is about the girl.”
Nicholas shook his head. Being next door to Amelia again was a benefit, when it wasn’t an unholy torture, but he was here to help his family. “My father—”
“If you wrote to your brother, he’d rush in to save the day and you’d be free to go study at the Inns of Court. But instead, you get to be a hero and a martyr, all the while staying close to your blessed Amelia.”
“I have a responsibility to my family,” Nicholas said. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Don’t I? How often do I have to rush back here to England because my bloody sister has broken some new heart, and I must make sure everyone remembers how cross the future Duke of Albemarle will be if anyone is unkind to her?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because you adore Lady Ruby, and you love to rub it in her face when you come to her rescue.”
“Irrelevant.” Jasper propped his boots up on the table, looking every inch of the entitled aristocrat that he was, minus the dishabille.
“You’re the heir to a duke. Your grandfather is how old? And you cavort around the globe, avoiding your responsibilities like they’re a plague.”
“They are.”
“Not to everyone,” Nick said. Responsibility wasn’t just a whim he could take or leave, any more than his feelings for Amelia were. If Jasper understood that, he wouldn’t keep asking him to abandon either of them.
“Stop pretending like this is anything but cowardice. You’re afraid to take charge of your own life. When did you become so boring?”
Nick was tired of fighting. He was tired in general. The situation with his father was exhausting. He rubbed at the space between his eyebrows, trying to stave off the ache that was inevitably on its way. “It’s my nature, I suppose.”
Jas’s tumbler hit the walnut surface of the side table with a clunk. “Your nature, my backside. I saw you in Paris. There’s renegade blood in your veins.”
“Be that as it may.”
“This is a tragedy that cannot be borne. I am going to stay here and help you reclaim your manhood.”
Nicholas laughed. “Sorry, Jas. You’re not quite my type.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m everyone’s type.”
He laughed again and some of the strain drained out of him. “It’s good to see you, Jas.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since I arrived.”
Amelia was on a mission to rid herself of the corset when she heard the unmistakable sound of crying coming from Julia’s room. It stopped Amelia in her tracks. Julia never cried. She made cutting comments and plotted elaborate revenge, but she didn’t cry. Amelia slid off her shoes and quietly opened the door. Sneakiness was warranted when the goal was taking care of one’s sister. Tiptoeing across the room commonly known within the house as the palace, she almost made it.
“I can’t believe you bungled it on carpet this thick,” Julia said from the chaise in the corner, wiping her eyes. Papier-mâché cranes hung above her in a rainbow of colors.
The skirts must have given her away. “Your carpet is much nicer than mine. Papa clearly loves you more.”
“Jealous?”
“Dreadfully.” It was difficult to keep her tone light when she could see the tear streaks on Julia’s face. It hurt Amelia more than if she’d been crying herself.
Julia smiled, but it held no joy. “How was your walk with Embry?”
“You first. What’s the matter?” Amelia moved Julia’s violin off the bed. It was her preferred seat when she visited the palace. The giant gold canopy made her feel like royalty, which was how the room had earned its moniker.
“Nothing.”
“Jules. Is it the pain? Do you need a doctor?”
Julia sighed. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just Mother. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Relief flooded through Amelia. Julia was very good at hiding when her condition became too painful to bear—usually with disastrous consequences. Ordinary mother tears they could handle.
“What did she do?” Amelia gestured for Julia to join her under the canopy.
Julia shook her head.
“You’re going to tell me eventually. It’s obviously your choice if you want to force me to sit on you and tickle you into submission.”
The laugh was a good sign, but it died off much too soon. Julia joined her on the bed, curling herself into a ball among the piles of gold and ivory silk pillows.
“Please, Julia, just tell me.”
Her sister sighed. “Mother asked me not to go to your engagement party.”
“What?” Of course Julia was coming to her engagement party. Of all the people invited, she was the one Amelia most needed there.
“She said it would be better for you, for your future, if we didn’t remind everyone about...” She tried to smile through it, but the tears started running down Julia’s face again. “And the worst part is she’s right. I can’t go. You’re getting married and I can’t go to your engagement party.”
> Amelia would deal with her mother’s overstepping later. For now, she needed to put an end to this nonsense. There could be no party without Julia. “Of course you’re going.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Julia, don’t.” The unbelievable frustration of it all overwhelmed her. She let it out in an irritated growl. “I will not lose you to have Embry.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
The tears dried up and Julia reverted to her usual stoic self. “What did you think would happen after you married? Did you think you would stay here with us?”
“No, but—”
“That’s how it goes. Even if your sister wasn’t a social pariah, you leave our family and join his.”
“That isn’t what’s going to happen with us.”
“Yes, it is, and you’re going to let it, Mia.”
“I will not.” It was ludicrous of anyone to think she would. She and Julia had been inseparable for as long as Amelia could remember. Since the very first. When Amelia started walking and then running, their parents decided to keep the girls separate so Julia wouldn’t be upset by it. But they’d snuck in to see each other at night, practicing together until Julia could manage a steady pace on her own.
“You have to. One of us has to be happy, Mia. One of us has to live a full life.” She tugged on a lock of Amelia’s hair, emphasizing which one of them she thought it should be.
Amelia refused to accept it. “We live full lives. We’re happy.”
“You don’t honestly believe that.”
“I do,” Amelia exclaimed. “We have each other, and loads of books, and a beautiful garden. Papa buys us anything we want. Look at this room!”
Julia threw her hands up, displacing pillows over the side of the bed. “Unbelievable. I think you actually mean it.”
“I do.”
“It should have been me!” Julia shouted. “You have this amazing, handsome fiancé and you don’t even want him. You’re talking about books and gardens like it could ever compare.”
Amelia felt instantly guilty. “Julia.”
Her sister shook her head, tears returning. “Get out, Amelia.”
“I didn’t…it’s not…”
“Please, just go.”
Amelia didn’t know what to say, how to take it back, so she went. The curtains of the canopy swished closed behind her.
Nicholas was lying on his bed, surrounded by papers on soil quality and weather conditions, when a thump sounded on the other side of his wall.
The exterior wall, twenty feet off the ground.
Nick knew that sound. She wouldn’t, not in broad daylight. Not hours after she’d ripped his heart out, kissing Montrose on the Bishops’ terrace.
Sure enough, a few moments later his window slammed up in the casing. A trouser-clad Amelia tumbled through it, landing hard on the jacket and cravat he’d discarded on the floor when he settled in to spend the rest of the day reading.
“What are you doing here?” It was one thing for her to sneak in his window when she was eight, but it was quite another at eighteen. She had no business in his bedroom.
Amelia didn’t answer him. Instead, she moved his papers from the bed to the oak desk in the corner. When they were cleared, she climbed onto his bed, curling up in a ball.
Oh no. Absolutely not. They were not children anymore, and Nicholas could tell himself all day and night that they were only friends, but there was nothing innocent or friendly about the way his body responded to seeing her in his bed. “Amelia, you can’t be here. You have to go, for your own good.”
Her head lifted. Her eyes were red from crying. “Everyone thinks they know what’s good for me today. Don’t you do it, too.”
Nick’s will to remove her evaporated, along with his less honorable thoughts. Amelia never cried. He sat on the coverlet next to her, and she wiggled herself into the space beneath his arm. When her head was safely against his chest, he asked, “Is it Julia?”
Mia nodded.
His chest constricted. He’d hoped it had been something to do with Montrose—and not only for his own interests. The first time Amelia had ever climbed up the tree to his room, Julia had developed an infection after one of her surgeries. It had been terrifying. Every time was terrifying, waiting for news if Julia would get better.
“Is she…”
“We had a fight,” Amelia said, sniffling again. “And I don’t know how to mend it.”
Terror drained away. Just a fight. “About?”
“I like Embry, but not enough to give up my family.”
Like, not love. “Is he asking you to?”
So far, nothing Amelia had said about her fiancé since Nick had come back led him to believe they were a good match. If Montrose was trying to take her away from the Bishop clan, surely that would be the end of it. Amelia would never stand for that, no matter how eligible the bachelor.
Amelia told him about her fight with Julia, including Julia’s outburst over Amelia having a fiancé at all. When she finished, he was at as much of a loss as she was. He couldn’t mend Julia’s loneliness, much as he wanted to. Instead of offering her empty platitudes, Nick told Amelia about his own troubles. “My father is losing his mind.”
“What?” She lifted her head. Her brow instantly furrowed with concern.
“It’s why they brought me home. He forgets what day it is, what year, and my parents have forbidden me from telling Philip because then he’ll come home and give up everything he’s working toward.”
“Oh, Nick.” Her hand was on his chest, right below his last undone button. She looked up at him, their faces inches apart.
If only she weren’t someone else’s.
If only he’d spoken up before she met Montrose.
If only she’d come over to tell him Montrose was all wrong for her and declare her love for Nick. But that wasn’t why she was here. She needed him to be her friend.
Much to his shame, Nicholas needed something altogether different, and now that he knew she would be all right, his body was becoming embarrassingly insistent about it.
It was the sharp, honeysuckle scent of her hair. He wanted to bury his face in it and pull her onto his chest so he could feel every inch of her pressed against him. Something must have given his thoughts away, because her lips parted. With their faces so close, he could see her eyes widen and watch the pink flush creep up her neck. Did she even realize the way she responded to him? Did she know how it drove him mad?
“Nick?” She sighed it like a question.
He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He lowered his head, their mouths only a breath apart.
The door to his room swished open, revealing Jasper. “Nicholas, what are the chances you—”
Amelia flew off his bed like a scalded cat. He almost took a boot heel to the chin as her exceptional backside disappeared over the edge of his bed and underneath it. It would have been welcome, compared to the stroke he’d nearly had at the sound of the door.
When he regained control of his senses, Nick called down. “Amelia, it’s just Jasper. It’s all right.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Is it now?”
It was finally going to happen. Amelia was going to die of mortification, just as she’d always suspected was possible.
A handsome face topped with curling sable hair lowered itself into her view.
“Good evening,” he said, getting comfortable on his stomach. “You must be Amelia Bishop.”
She pressed her face into the carpet beneath Nick’s bed. “Unfortunately.”
“There’s nothing unfortunate about it. My name is Jasper and I expect we will become the best of friends.”
The man was ridiculous, and it must be catching, because Amelia couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will we?”
“Oh yes. In my experience, it is extremely difficult to get our Nicholas to misbehave. And yet, here you are.”
It was exactly as bad as she thought. Lord Bell
amy knew what she’d wanted to do, even though Nick didn’t feel that way about her. She couldn’t let his friend think the worst of him or put any ideas in his head about her having feelings for him, all because she couldn’t get this sudden attraction under control. Nicholas was her friend. He didn’t deserve to suffer for being kind to her.
“We were only talking,” Amelia insisted.
“Were you?” Lord Bellamy was completely unconvinced.
Nicholas’s weight shifted on the bed above her. “Jas, leave her alone.”
“I ought to be saying that to you, you scoundrel.”
Amelia felt a hand close around her ankle. Jasper’s face grew smaller and disappeared from view as Nick pulled her out from under the bed. He offered his hand. Reluctantly, she took it and stood up.
“Amelia Bishop, meet Viscount Bellamy. Don’t let him intimidate you. He enjoys being aggravating.”
“Almost as much as I enjoy your trousers,” Jasper said with an appreciative sweep of his eyes.
Nick cleared his throat, taking Amelia’s arm and guiding her to the chair farthest from Jasper. “That’ll be enough of that.”
The embarrassment slowly dissipated as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. If Amelia wasn’t careful, she would develop a fancy for Lord Bellamy, and she was flirting with one too many inappropriate fancies already. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
There really wasn’t any way she could feel more ridiculous, so Amelia decided to ask, “Did you mean it about us becoming friends?”
“Absolutely, if you’ll have me.” Jasper seated himself in the armchair by Nicholas’s window, clearly not planning to leave anytime soon.
“I should like to have another friend. I’m afraid the only one I’ve got is Nicholas.”
“Marvelous. Now that we’re friends, tell me: how is it that you only have one friend? Don’t you have a fiancé stashed away somewhere?”
At the mention of Embry, Amelia felt awful all over again. She’d almost kissed Nicholas. What had she been thinking? “He’s…”
“He’s what?” Jasper prodded.
She couldn’t claim she and Embry were friends. They barely knew each other.
Jasper took pity on her, waving his hand. “Say no more. It’s quite unfashionable to be friends with your intended. I don’t blame you for deciding against it.”
The Importance of Being Scandalous Page 6