Madame Zephyr shot her a cynical look.
"If your brother came here, I can tell you for sure he was here for one reason only. Beyond that, I am not so very inclined to reveal my clients' doings to their nearest and dearest. I'll have Alyse show you out."
"Please. My brother is dead, and this card is the only clue I have about what his last days may have been like. Look, there is a name, Marilee is the woman I am looking for. Is there anyone here by that name?"
When she uttered the name, Madame Zephyr gave a deeply disgusted sigh.
"That girl again? I swear it would have been better if her mother had turned her over to the church as she meant to do rather than keep her."
"May I speak to Marilee? Please, Madame."
"You may not, and I have had just about enough of you. You are going out, and whether you choose to do it under your own power or be thrown out on your ear is up to you."
The woman came around her desk and latched a powerful grip around Lydia's upper arm. For the second time in two days, Lydia found herself getting dragged out.
They were just in the hall, however, when a young girl ran up to them.
"Madame, you must come at once."
"Please, I'm sure that whatever is going on, Brutus can handle."
"No, Madame, it is the Duke of Winnefield. He demanded entrance and now he is demanding Marilee. She is with a client but—"
Madame Zephyr swore in a way that made Lydia blush to hear it, and abruptly she let Lydia go, seeming to forget about her entirely.
"Take me to him."
Lydia did not wait for the woman to remember her. She headed deeper into the house and up a flight of stairs. Nicholas was the Duke of Winnefield; what in the world was he doing in a place like this? Actually, she could very well guess what he was doing in a place like this, but why had he come looking for Marilee? Was she his emergency from earlier?
Lydia had no time to be choosy. There was a girl just exiting one of the rooms, and she grabbed her hand desperately.
"Please, please, I must see Marilee."
The girl looked startled, but something about Lydia's desperation must have touched her.
"This way."
A twist and a turn later, the girl knocked a quick staccato pattern on a door, and a moment later, the door creaked open. The woman who peered out was a few years older than Lydia, and her face was angelically beautiful.
"What is it? I heard such a ruckus downstairs that Hadderstone ran off."
"I don't know about any ruckus, but this girl needs to see you."
Lydia had to stop herself from gaping at the luxury of Marilee's room. It was swathed in peach silk that must have cost a fortune, an enormous mirror lining one wall. The bed was similarly large, but when Lydia saw ties attached discreetly to the headboard, she remembered that all this luxury had a very dark price.
"Whatever is the matter? You look like you have the devil on your trail."
"Marilee, please. I need your help. I found this card in my brother's things. He died a short while ago, and I need to know why."
"Yes, that is my card, but they get passed around from hand to hand. What was your brother's name?"
"Benjamin Waverly."
"You're Waverly's sister? Oh, my God, you poor dear."
"Tell me what happened to him, please. You are the only lead I have."
Marilee started to say something, but a loud clatter in the hall interrupted her. Instead, she opened a hidden door in the wall, sliding a panel aside to reveal a shallow depression where one person could stand.
"Here, get in!"
Because she was too confused and bewildered to do anything else, Lydia obeyed the other woman, allowing her to slide the panel shut over her. To her surprise, there was a hole drilled into the wall, and even a small step she could mount to see more clearly. Lydia made a face as she realized what the space was commonly used for, and then she froze as the door to Marilee's room opened.
"I'm not pleased to find you still in London, Marilee," said Nicholas, and Lydia's stomach turned over.
Through the hole in the wall, she saw Nicholas close the door after himself, advancing with purpose on Marilee.
"I have always preferred that men be pleased to see me rather than not."
"I am not in the mood to deal with your flirtations tonight. I gave you a bank draft, and I expected you to be gone."
"My debts to the house were rather greater than I assumed they were, I'm afraid. Madame has taken too much of what you gave me before to allow me to leave as I had planned."
"I can't see how that's my problem."
"Well, it does not have to be. I can stay where I am if it is nothing to you. I have no more debts, and perhaps I will even start my own house."
"You are going to do nothing of the sort."
"Then you have the money I have asked for?"
Wordlessly, Nicholas presented a cream-colored envelope, and Lydia remembered him going to a Featherby earlier. He had been getting money to pay off Marilee, and she felt a strange shift in the way she saw him.
She had known that he was a rake but seeing proof of it was another thing. Surely, it could not be a coincidence that he was seeing Marilee, whose name was on a card she had found in her brother's things?
Marilee opened the envelope and nodded at what she saw in there before secreting on her person.
"Well? Is it enough that you will leave London?"
"It is generous, Nicholas. Thank you."
Nichols growled, and Lydia flinched at the woman calling him by his Christian name.
"Show me how grateful you are by leaving town as you said you would. Things are already getting out of hand."
"Oh, but do you truly want to see me leave? We had such a splendid time together. We could again; I could take this money and set myself up very nicely in a little house close by."
She reached for him with a delicate hand but cried out when Nicholas wrapped his hand around her wrist.
"I'm afraid not," he said, his voice cool. "When it comes to women, I have more going on than I can really tolerate right now, so as appealing as your charms are, I must respectfully decline."
Marilee pouted, and he let her go.
"Well, I will be on the coach by the end of the week.”
"No, you are leaving now, Marilee. There is a coach downstairs that will take you to Devon. You are getting on it, and I will see that with my own eyes. Get packed."
"But I can't! My things!"
"Have them sent along. My patience is at an end, and you are leaving."
Marilee was no fool. She could hear the implacable tone in Nicholas’ voice just as Lydia could. She stuffed her things into a large black leather bag, and Nicholas ironically offered her his arm as they headed for the door.
"She must be something else if she is a handful for you, Nicholas."
To Lydia's surprise, she saw Nicholas’ face soften a little.
"More than you would guess, but there's joy in it, which I never expected."
The door closed behind them, and Lydia found the small latch in the panel that let her slide it aside. She needed to get downstairs and find her way back to Nicholas’ house, ideally without being seen by Madame Zephyr, but her mind was full of what she had witnessed.
At every turn, it felt as if she only had more questions than answers, and for some reason, Nicholas was at the center of them all.
* * *
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CHAPTER TEN
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Nicholas woke up first thing in the morning with a dull ache in his head. He scowled at the morning sunlight coming through his window. There was a time when waking up aching was a sign that he’d had a very good evening the night before.
Instead, he was sore because he had dashed all over London to arrange Marilee's payment, and then because he didn't trust her not to hav
e a change of heart and hop off the coach he had arranged, he had followed her halfway out of the city.
By the time he returned to his own house, there was a little bit of dawn light in the sky, and he had expected to sleep away the day. Instead, it was mid-morning, and he realized he couldn't return to sleep.
He shaved, dressed, and as he ate the food the footman had brought up, he decided that he needed to see Lydia. With Marilee out of the city, he could finally relax and think of things objectively, and he could see that he had been all wrong when it came to dealing with her. Lydia was too spirited by far to be sent here and there like a biddable cow. No, she had the spirit of a hot-blooded filly, and the last thing he wanted to do was come down too hard and break her.
Nicholas knew that his feelings for his unwilling guest were getting of hand, even beyond what Marilee had surprised out of him last night. The idea that he wanted to bed her was a familiar one, but the idea that he wanted to keep her was far more startling.
He knocked on the door to the drawing room, and Lydia herself answered it.
"We must keep our voices down," she said softly. "Eunice is resting."
Eunice was sprawled on the chaise with her sewing scattered over her belly, her mouth slack and a deep snore coming from her. Nicholas hid a smile of affection for his aunt and nodded at Lydia.
"Perhaps we can talk in the library, instead? If only to make sure my aunt gets her beauty rest."
"Oh, yes. That's fine."
If Lydia seemed a little quieter than usual, she brightened up immensely at the library. She gazed around at the two-story room, lined with books of all kinds.
"This is all yours?" she asked breathlessly.
"It is. It's one of the finest private collections in London. Every other Saturday, it is open to scholars from the local universities who wish to use it."
"That's very generous of you, your grace."
"Are we back to your grace? What have I done to frustrate you now? I have noticed that I am only your grace when you are in a fit of pique."
"Honestly, you make me sound like a child having a tantrum. But I suppose I am not best pleased."
She grasped a fold of her skirt between two fingers, raising it slightly and with an accusing glance.
"Do you see this?"
"I do. I was going to compliment you that soft green looks lovely on you."
"It's not meant to look lovely on me. I was told that my own clothes were being cleaned, but when I asked my maid about them, she said that the laundry must have lost them; at the very least, they are nowhere to be found."
"What a shame. It is a good thing that I have made arrangements for a wardrobe to be purchased for you."
The look she gave him was not what he usually expected when he bought clothes for beautiful women, but for some reason, he found it adorable all the same.
You cannot do that, Nicholas. It is entirely inappropriate. I need to mourn my brother. It is unseemly to go about as if I were attending parties and taking rides in the park!"
Nicholas pointed at the black ribbon around her arm.
"I might not pay much attention to the social niceties, but I do know them well enough. As far as I know, a black band is the appropriate mourning for a brother, and that only for two months."
"That is not the point!"
"It is when you are trying to make your argument based on what is right and proper. Do you care to try another argument, or will you depart the field?"
She glared at him.
"It may not be socially required, but it reflects what I feel in my heart. My brother died, and I do not even know what the circumstances around his passing are."
"And so, you need to punish yourself for continuing to live while he is gone?"
At her stricken look, Nicholas knew he had gone too far.
Lydia turned on her heel, ready to flee, but Nicholas caught her by the hand, holding her still even as she refused to look at him.
"I am sorry. I was wrong to say that."
"I am afraid you are not."
"Lydia?"
"I loved my brother, and when he died, I thought that I would think of him every moment, every day. I would keep him close in spirit if not in body. Then I started to forget. Life goes on, as they say, and whenever I remembered him, it hurt so much that I had forgotten him, even for a day. Even for a few hours."
"And that is why you came to London."
"Among other reasons. I need to know what happened to him, make no mistake about it, but I need to do this for him. I am so afraid I will forget him, and that is such a dishonorable thing."
"It is not dishonorable to let a dead man be dead," Nicholas said gently. "Lydia, will you turn to me, please?"
She turned toward him, and he felt that unaccustomed pang in his heart again. God, he had thought her pretty when he first saw her, but now it seemed that knowing her had turned her into a beauty.
"Will you come here?"
She looked hesitant, but she stepped closer to him. She looked like she expected another kiss, and there was a very large part of him that would love to feel her lips underneath his again. Instead, he pushed that impulse aside and hugged her instead, leading her to the chaise and holding her close as they sat together.
There were no words between them for a while, but the silence was not barbed or overlong. Instead, Nicholas listened to her breath grow slower and more even, felt her body relax against him. She rested her head against his shoulder, her little white hand on his lapel, and Nicholas felt a strange peace come over him.
He had never felt more at his ease with anyone and, given the history she did not know they shared, it was a remarkable thing indeed.
"I'm sorry; you must think me quite the fool," Lydia said softly.
"I think you might do things that I consider to be quite mad from time to time. But foolish, never. Not when your heart leads you in all things."
"That sounds like a pleasant way of saying that I am headstrong and ill-considered, but I will take it."
Nicholas was loath to break the tenuous peace that had come up between them, but he knew he had to.
"Lydia, I need to talk to you about your search for your brother's fate."
She pulled back from him warily.
"You will not send me back to Carmody. I would rather run into the street than be packed off before I have reached my goal."
"No, I think you might. I have been high-handed and determined, but believe me when I say I have my reasons. I have a new proposal."
"All right, what is it?"
"Stay here in London with me. Let me show you the town as I send my best men out to search for your Baron Farring. Let yourself breathe instead of grieve."
She blinked at him.
"Are you serious?"
"Very much so. Lydia, it has not escaped me how much you care for your brother. I have also noticed how much you are suffering. It is within my power to help you, and I wish to do so."
"But why?"
"You are so very blunt. Because it cannot have escaped your notice that I care for you as well, Lydia. At some point, your grief has become my grief, and I want it to end. Let me do this for you. In return, stay with me. I promise you that this is nothing untoward. I have no intentions on your virtue beyond what we have already shared."
"Nicholas—"
"I just want you here, with me. It is not so high a price to pay for the help I am offering, I think."
Nicholas realized with an inward wince that he was not all that short of bargaining with her for her company. He would be amused at how far he had fallen for Lydia's charms if it didn't turn him into an addled fool.
"So, that is the price? I stay and keep you company, and you help me look for my brother?"
"It sounds a little tawdry when you put it that way."
"I agree. I'll do it."
Nicholas blinked at her, and she gave him a wry smile that seemed designed to pierce his heart.
"Well, it was worth it to see you
look at me like that, I suppose. I do believe that you are a bad influence on me, Nicholas."
"I am almost certain that I am. But you agree in truth?"
"I do. London is very large and very strange, and you were not wrong when you said that I was not prepared for it. These last few—that is, the night I was out looking for my brother's flat, I felt terrified the whole time, and you were right; that night could have ended in disaster. That it didn't was thanks to you. I believe you, and I trust you, Nicholas. I know that you will help me."
Nicholas supposed that a better man would tell her the truth right now, about his connection to Benjamin Waverly, and everything that went with it. However, all he felt instead was a profound wave of relief that that day was not yet here.
"Good," he murmured, and he pulled her into his arms for a fierce hug. That fire sprung up between them as it always did, and this time, it was Lydia who pushed him away with a slight laugh.
"The more time I spend with you, the more that feels like we are playing with fire," she said softly.
"That doesn't mean that I am willing to stop."
"I don't want to stop either, but we can't, can we?"
"No, I suppose not."
She bid him good day, telling him she would see him at dinner. Nicholas knew he had won enough victories that day and stopped himself from asking her to go out for a walk or a ride.
When he was alone in the library, he could feel the sword hanging over his head, the one that would inevitably drop when she learned the truth. Right now, however, he could still feel her in his arms, still touch her warmth on his clothes, and nothing else in the world mattered as much as that.
* * *
In the drawing room, Eunice had only turned over on her side; otherwise, she slept as deeply as she had when Lydia left. Lydia was grateful for that. She was growing to care for the older woman deeply, but she needed silence.
The entire time she had been with Nicholas, she had wanted to ask him about Madame Zephyr's house and Marilee. What had he been doing there? Why had he given Marilee money to get out of London?
Christin's Splendid Spinster's Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 27