by Tarah Scott
Ire flashed in the baron’s eyes. “You aren’t afraid you will lose?”
“I have yet to lose.”
“There is a first time for everything,” Wylst said.
“Aye,” Nicholas replied. “But that day is not today.” He turned slightly, his eyes catching on Josephine. Frowning, he stopped and said to her, “I thought you would be with your mother, Lady Josephine.”
She checked the ire that shot to the surface and said in a sweet voice, “I was admiring the tapestries on the wall. I feel certain I am old enough to do so without my mother’s permission.”
He nodded, but when she reached his side, he took her and and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Be that as it may, I feel better knowing you are in the bosom of your family.”
She understood fully that he meant he didn’t trust her to be alone even in a room filled with people, and wanted to kick him in the shin.
Wylst,” he said with a dismissive nod.
The baron’s gaze narrowed with resentment and Josephine suddenly wanted to kiss Nick when he appeared to have forgotten the baron even existed as he started forward with her.
“What did he mean you had to allow him to win back his money?” she whispered after they had taken several steps.
“He lost to me at cards earlier today.”
“Here, at Barthmont Keep?” she blurted.
Nick looked sharply at her. “Yes. You seem upset by the idea.”
“No, not upset,” she said with a little laugh, though her mind raced with the question of just how much the baron had lost to Nicholas, and if the money he had extracted from her thus far had all been lost at cards. Worse, how long until he lost everything she had to give and he exposed her? “I am just surprised,” she said. “Lady Allaway is strict about her guests arriving the day her parties begin.”
It was a ridiculous lie, and she feared he saw through her when he stared for another instant. Then he shrugged.
“Wylst is not known for considering the feelings of those around him.”
“I understand he was living in France these last twenty years,” she said as Nick steered her around a small group of men. “Yet, you seem to know him well.”
Nicholas nodded to John Leslie. “You are correct, he was living in Paris, but I don’t know him well. I met him in Paris in eighteen seventeen, after the war.”
Sadness sliced through Jo. Paris in eighteen seventeen. He hadn’t been far away at sea as she had always imagined, but close to home.
“His grandmother is French, which is why he was able to stay in France during the war,” Nicholas said.
“French?” Jo repeated. That meant—she closed her eyes. Sweet heaven. “He does not speak with an accent,” she said.
They reached the massive hearth where a low fire burned and Nick released her hand. “He was born in England.”
“Why did he go to France?”
“I heard rumors that his father died and his mother abandoned him there,” Nick replied.
“A sad fate,” she said, but felt not one wit of compassion for him.
“When I saw him in Paris, he was quite anxious for news of England. He asked after your family, as I recall.”
Her heart jumped. She looked up at Nicholas with an even expression. “I do not recall my father speaking of him. I imagine he asked because of your association with my family.”
Nicholas seemed to consider. “Nay, I don’t see how he could have known.”
“I cannot say,” she replied. “Why do you not like him, my lord?”
“He is condescending—”
“Never say he is condescending,” she interjected.
Nicholas lifted an amused brow. “Have you something to say, Lady Josephine?
“Nothing of consequence.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Only that I can see why you wouldn’t like him. You two are much alike.”
Nick’s mouth thinned. “We are nothing alike.”
Regret stabbed at her “No,” she quickly agreed. “I was only teasing.”
“Aye.” He smiled, and her insides liquefied.
“That is not to say you do not have faults,” she quickly added.
“Then you must save me from myself.”
Josephine narrowed her eyes. “You will not get off so easily.”
His eyes darkened. “I pray not.”
She gave a small gasp. “My father will shoot you if he sees you look at me like that.”
Nicholas chuckled. “If that were the case, he would have shot me long ago.”
“There will not be a repeat of what happened this afternoon.”
“You have some new torture in store for me?”
“Not a torture of that sort,” she retorted.
Nick took her hand and kissed it. “Being in your presence is torture enough.”
She snatched her hand back. “If it is such torture to be in my presence, then why do marry me?”
“Because it is the sweetest of tortures, love.”
She started to reply, then realized he was right. Marrying him would be the sweetest of tortures. But one she could not allow.
Chapter Six
At dinner, Josephine was seated between Nicholas and Miss Lydia Roberts. Lydia prattled on about inane gossip and Jo nodded as she covertly watched Lord Wylst at the far end of the table near Lord Allaway. Josephine’s mother hadn’t interact with the baron and gave no indication she was discomfited. Josephine picked at her food while she seethed. How could her mother laugh with her husband while her lover sat only a few seats down the table from them?
“Are you ill, Lady Josephine?”
She jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice. “I am fine. Why do you ask?
“You’re picking at your food, instead of eating it.”
“Oh,” she said. “I was lost in thought.” She took a bite and realized it was fish, which she detested. But she smiled and chewed as if it was delicious.
His brows rose. “I thought you didn’t care for fish.”
“If you knew I didn’t care for fish, why were you surprised I wasn’t eating it?” she demanded under her breath.
He nodded toward the plate. “You do love pheasant.”
She looked at her plate and saw that she had pushed the meat nearly off her plate. Her heart fell. How would she get through the remaining ten days of the party without giving away her feelings toward her mother or Lord Wylst?
Dinner ended and Lord Allaway suggested the ladies retire to the grand parlor while the men had brandy and wine. The men stood as the ladies rose and left the table. Since learning the truth about her mother’s infidelity, Josephine had often wondered if her mother had lied about other things as well. But seeing her stroll past her lover as if he were a total stranger, Josephine wondered not if her mother had lied, but what she had lied about over the years?
The desire to run away and hide in one of her father’s smaller estates in the northern Highlands rose as it had a hundred times since this nightmare began. Josephine released a quiet breath and fell back farther in the rear of the ladies’ procession, which was filing through the door in the far corner near the balcony. Running away would only leave her family at the mercy of Lord Wylst. That she would not do. Josephine gazed out the balcony doors into the gardens beyond as she neared. However, she could run away for an hour or so.
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Nick engrossed in conversation with Lord Allaway. The ladies ahead of her chatted with one another, oblivious to her. She seized the opportunity and ducked through the balcony doors, then hurried down the steps. After a few paces, rhododendrons, azaleas, magnolias, embrothriums and camellias enveloped her in a sea of color that brought the first smile she’d experienced since learning she was to attend the party.
Jo slowed her walk along the stone path and passed beneath a small arched bridge to the center of the gardens where a bench was located beside a round stone pond. She sat down and took a deep breath of the early evening air. The sun hung low in the hor
izon. Daylight would last another forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of peace...of freedom. It was more than she had enjoyed since Lord Wylst entered her life a month ago—more than she had hoped for since Nicholas returned. Josephine closed her eyes at the pang that squeezed her heart. Six years he’d been gone. But it seemed like yesterday that he’d taken her hand in his and told her he was leaving.
Her heart broke twice that day, for she knew her father had refused his offer of marriage. She must have cursed Nicholas a thousand times for offering for her. Though his kiss had haunted her, she could have convinced herself the emotions were a girl’s fantasies—if not for that damned marriage proposal. His asking for hand in marriage had given life to her feelings. Then he’d allowed his father to send him away, leaving behind promises she knew he would never keep.
Josephine bowed her head and finally gave in to the tears that had fought to be freed the moment she’d laid eyes on him a month ago.
Why did you return, Nick?
“Lovely evening, is it not?”
Josephine jerked her head up at hearing the familiar voice.
Lord Wylst stood on the path beyond the hedges that lined the manicured lawn around the circular pond.
Jo swiped at her cheeks and resisted the urge to jump to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited, like you.”
“That is a fine coincidence,” she snapped. “It is more likely you are here to harass me.”
He rounded the pool, then stopped in front of her. “You are not happy to see me, my dear?”
Perhaps rising was a good idea after all—leaving was even a better idea. She rose and started past him. He stepped in her way.
Josephine lifted her gaze to his face. Only the rim of the sun remained over the horizon, but she could still discern his smirk. “Step aside, sir.”
“We need to talk.”
“So that you can extract more money from me? Have a care, sir. If you push me too far, you will get nothing.”
“If I get nothing, I expose you.”
“I imagine you will not want to lose your newly found place in society.” Or the newly found place in my mother’s bed, she silently added.
Jo’s heart began to beat faster. Dare she say a word about knowing what was going on between him and her mother? If she threatened to expose them, would he fear losing her mother as a lover?
“Men are allowed indiscretions,” he said as if reading her mind. “Women are not. I will survive quite well. You, however...”
“You will do yourself no good if you bleed me dry and expose us. What reason will I have to pay you anything if I believe you will do that?”
“I agree, it’s a delicate situation,” he said. “But don’t get too high and mighty. I have financial obligations and I will not be put off.”
“Financial obligations?” she repeated. “Like losing money to Lord Grayson?”
A nasty glint appeared in his eyes. “Sticking your nose in business that does not concern you is dangerous. But speaking of your future husband, it is time you cease trying to wiggle out of the marriage—and that includes dallying with men like Lord Beaumond.”
Josephine drew a sharp breath.
He nodded. “That’s right. I know about the marquess. No more of such shenanigans, at least not until after you have given Grayson an heir.”
“How dare you?” she shot back. “Not everyone eschews fidelity as do you.”
Lord Wylst laughed. “Most, in fact, are exactly like me.” He narrowed his eyes. “But that aside, you will behave and marry Nicholas.”
“My marriage is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is my concern.”
“I will not marry Nicholas just so that you can bleed him dry,” she said.
“Do not worry about Grayson.”
Josephine shook inside. “If you are here to demand more money, I did not bring any with me.”
“That is a pretty necklace you’re wearing.” He nodded to the pearls she wore.
Her hand flew to her throat. “These were a gift from my father.”
He gave a condescending laugh and extended his hand. “Give them to me.”
She took a step back. “No.”
His hand dropped back to his side. “Then you leave me no choice. I must speak with Montagu. He is here at the party, is he not?”
“Will you also tell him who procured your invitation to Lady Allaway’s party?”
Malice gleamed in his eyes. “Do you think it would interest him?”
A fresh wave of fear brought a chill, but she forced a calm voice, “Aye, he will be mightily interested.”
“Shall we tell him together, then?”
He took a step closer and she flinched.
He laughed.
The murmur of distant voices cut off his laughter. “Be quick about it,” he said.
Josephine glanced in the direction the voices had come.
“Girl,” he growled. She hesitated and he grasped her arms and spun her around. She twisted in an effort to break free, but his fingers tightened on her flesh as he hissed in her ear, “Do you want them to hear and ask you what is wrong?”
She froze when he grasped the clasp, his fingers brushing the hairs that stood on end at the back of her neck. With painful clarity, memory rose of her squeal of delight when her father produced the jewelry box on her sixteenth birthday. The pearls were the first jewelry she had been given and was the only jewelry her father had ever given her. He had clasped them about her neck, then turned her to face him and called her his grownup girl.
Josephine closed her eyes and willed back the tears.
Forgive me, Father.
Lord Wylst lifted the pearls from around her neck and she whirled to face him.
“There now,” he said. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
“You may consider that next month’s payment,” she said in a low voice.
His brows rose. “Is that so?”
The crunch of boots on rocky ground cut off her reply as Nicholas appeared with her sister, Lady Deeds, and Henry Maxwell from within the tall bushes on the far side of the fountain. Josephine glimpsed Lord Wylst slipping her pearls into his jacket pocket and she wanted to melt into the ground. Of all the people to come upon her and the baron it would have to be Nicholas. Yes, she realized, it was all too coincidental, which meant it was no coincidence at all. He had come in search of her. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time.
“Smile,” Lord Wylst hissed under his breath. “You look as though you have just come from a funeral.”
She felt as if she had just come from a funeral, but forced aside the pain, and said, “Lady Allaway’s garden is hailed as one of the most beautiful gardens in all the Highlands.” Her voice was too bright and she feared neither Nicholas nor her sister would be fooled.
“So I have heard,” Lord Wylst said. “They are, indeed, the most beautiful I have seen.”
She repressed the desire to slap the satisfied smile off his face, and smiled at the approaching group. “Good evening, my lords, Lady Deeds.”
Josephine didn’t miss the thin-lipped disapproval on her face. The old biddy wasn’t a gossip, but she was a busybody. By night’s end she would make certain Josephine’s father knew she’d been in the gardens alone with Lord Wylst. Jo recalled her father’s threat to marry her off to the man she seduced and suppressed a shiver at the thought of him thinking she was cavorting with the baron.
The group stopped beside them, and she said, “I see you were able to get Lord Grayson out for a walk, Annabel.”
“He was quite willing,” she replied. “In fact, we hoped to run into you.”
Jo wagered they did. She prayed her shock at having given up her pearl necklace didn’t show.
When Nicholas said, “Wylst,” in a voice dripping with condemnation over the fact that the baron was alone with the future Countess of Grayson, another wave of shame rolled over Josephine.
* * *
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br /> Nicholas didn’t wait for a response from Wylst, but turned his eyes onto his betrothed. She smiled and spoke enthusiastically with her sister and Lady Deeds, but the animation didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t look as if she had been caught in another man’s embrace—she was fully dressed and not a hair was out of place on her head. In fact, he was sure she didn’t like the baron. So what was she doing with him in the gardens? Had Wylst followed her?
Nick shot a glance at him. The man appeared to listen intently to the women, but Nick detected no signs of lust. He hadn’t forgotten the young woman Wylst was rumored to have ruined during Nick’s stay in Paris. He never learned the details, but he hadn’t doubted for a moment the man was capable of the despicable act. He and Beaumond were of the same cut.
“It is growing late,” Nicholas said. “Perhaps we should return to the castle.”
Wylst made a move as if to offer his arm to Jo, but she slipped her hand into the crook of Nick’s arm. It seemed she hadn’t seen Wylst, but Nicholas was certain she had.
Wylst’s eyes narrowed in resentment, but Nicholas pretended not to notice, and said, “Shall we?”
“Indeed,” Lady Deeds said. “It would not do for someone to catch a chill.” She gave Josephine a meaningful look, which Jo blithely ignored.
Nick pressed a hand to Annabel’s back to start her forward ahead of them. She fell into place alongside Lady Deeds and Henry, with Wylst beside Josephine as they began walking.
“I understand you are investing in Easton’s shipping company,” Wylst said to Nicholas.
He jerked his gaze onto Wylst. “Where did you hear that?”
The baron smirked. “You are not the only gentleman Easton does business with.”
Jo’s fingers flexed on Nick’s arm. He looked down at her in inquiry, but she stared straight ahead.
“Cumberland, I believe is the name of the company,” Wylst said. “He plans a year’s trip to the orient. Should be quite lucrative.”
Nicholas made a mental note to decline investing in the company. If Easton was fool enough to involve Wylst, he wanted nothing to do with the venture.