True, he had not spent himself, and Maria could only believe that was his just punishment for treating her so badly. She hoped he suffered mightily with his frustration.
“…a token of esteem for the fair lady Maria,” he was saying. Maria had not paid attention to the words, but Nicholas was handing something to her. ’Twas a large golden medallion with the Lancaster seal tooled into the surface, and it was encrusted with red gems.
“Ah, my lady,” he chided, “you have not been listening.”
She blushed. Charmingly, to Nicholas’s way of thinking. She’d been distracted and irritable all through the meal, though she attempted to be pleasant to all Sterlyng’s other guests. Nicholas seemed to be the only one excluded from her charm.
He supposed he deserved that. He had not planned to invade her chamber uninvited. But he’d arrived early in Bridewell Lane, and as he’d bided his time, he’d seen Maria through the window of her chamber. He’d not been able to resist stealing a few moments with her, though he’d never thought he’d take those few kisses so far.
Her chemise had been made of the silk he’d sent her, and visions of her in it had plagued his dreams. Never again could he look at her without thinking of his silk caressing her naked form. It suited her so well, concealing yet enticing, all at once.
His body came to full alert when he thought of her in the throes of passion. She was the most beautiful creature when she responded to him, and he could not get enough of her. He would return later….
Nay, ’twas too soon for Maria. He’d breached her defenses once today, mayhap even earlier. For she’d left the tournament before its completion. Could it be that his lady fair felt more for him than disdain?
Even the duke seemed positively disposed toward him this evening, which would only work in his favor. As Sterlyng pinned the medallion to his daughter’s gown, Nicholas smiled with satisfaction.
Then he slipped away from the gathering, ostensibly to use the privy.
Nicholas had been gone too long. Like a magnet, Maria was drawn by the powerful attraction between them. With his heavy medallion at her shoulder, she left the gathering in the great hall and went in search of him.
Considering the possibility that he would expect her to follow him, she went upstairs to her own chamber, only to find it empty. She glanced inside her father’s room, too, but Nicholas was not there.
She frowned. Where could he have gone? He’d been absent much too long for a trip to the privy, so he must be somewhere in the house.
Maria skipped down the back staircase and wandered through the kitchen, then into the yard near the privy. No one there.
Back in the house, Maria searched the rooms at the back until she reached the end of the narrow corridor to her father’s study. As she peeped in the door, Nicholas captured her wrist and pulled her to him.
Blistering her breathless with his kiss, he pressed her body into his, then whispered kisses across her jaw to her ear, then down her throat. “You’ll not find a husband among these milksop sons of noblemen, my lady fair,” he said.
“I most certainly will,” she said, pushing him away. He did not need to know that she was reconsidering her decision to snag a husband so soon. “I will find someone who will respect me, and not ambush me in dark corners.”
Nicholas grinned and shook his head.
Maria frowned in turn and glanced around the chamber. “What are you doing in here?”
He hesitated for an instant. “I took a wrong turn when I came in,” he said. “I was just coming to find you.”
She crossed her arms impatiently and tapped one foot. “You’ll forgive me if I find that somewhat difficult to believe, Lord Kirkham,” she said coldly.
“’Tis true!” he said with a laugh. “My, my, you are a suspicious woman.” He attempted to nuzzle her neck, but she pulled away. She knew he was trying to distract her, and wanted to know why.
The chamber appeared undisturbed in the dim light, but Maria could smell the smoke of a candle recently extinguished. He’d had light in here, and she would know why.
“What were you looking for?”
“Looking—?”
“Do not attempt to placate me with kisses, Nicholas,” she said as she pressed the tip of her forefinger into his chest. “I know better.”
“You are mistaken, love,” he replied, acting the wounded rascal. “It is as I told you—”
“Nay, ’tis not,” she retorted. “I can think of only one reason for you to be alone in my father’s study.”
She paused long enough for Nicholas to read her meaning. When he finally spoke, ’twas clear he understood.
“Nay, Maria,” he said, appalled to realize that she’d come to the correct conclusion. He had really bungled things!
What could he tell her? What excuse could he give?
Without doubt, some version of the truth was necessary, but how much should he say? “Maria…”
“Nay, do not even think of lying to me, Nicholas.”
“I have no intention of lying to you,” he said, running his hands down her arms. He gathered her fingers into his hands. “’Tis just that…the more you know, the more…dangerous it is for all of us.”
“Explain,” she said, keeping her fists clenched, not budging from her position.
“To make it quick and to the point,” he said, “I am in the service of the Duke of Bedford. There is evidence that important information is being transferred to the French…” He paused, but saw that Maria would not be satisfied until he’d finished. “…through your father.”
She was silent for a moment, then let out a puff of air in dismissal. “That is preposterous,” she said, turning away. “Ridiculous,” she added under her breath.
He grabbed her arm. “It is deadly serious. Englishmen are being killed every day on battlefields because the French seem to know how many men we have, and where they are garrisoned. They know what provisions our soldiers have, when they were last paid, what our weaknesses are.”
“You are serious,” Maria said, shrugging away from him.
He gave a quick nod.
“And you think that my father is sending this information to the French king?”
“To the dauphin.”
Maria stepped away, keeping her back to him. By the set of her shoulders, he could see that she was upset.
He cursed the bad luck that had kept him working at the sticky lock in Sterlyng’s desk. Nicholas had gone through everything and found nothing, not one piece of incriminating evidence, not even in the locked drawer.
True enough, the letter from “the maid” was there, but that only gave proof to the notion that Sterlyng wasn’t hiding anything. If he had another secure place within the house, Nicholas had no doubt that the maid’s letter would have been hidden there, rather than in the desk.
Instead, all of the duke’s valuables were stored in that single locked drawer, including his bronze seal.
Now Nicholas had proof that he must look elsewhere for the culprit. He had no doubt that the spy was a high-ranking sort—someone who had access to secret information. He would have to give this further thought.
He could not tell Maria of his suspicions or she might inadvertently thwart his investigation. If the culprit discovered that Nicholas knew of his treachery, he would likely become so careful Nick would never learn his identity. “Maria…”
She did not reply, but stood still, facing away from him. He walked around her, and discovered that she was blinking back tears and attempting to compose her facial expression.
“My father would never do anything so vile as what you’ve suggested,” she said. “He is no traitor.”
“Maria, I’ve come here to prove exactly that.”
“You cannot possibly expect me to believe you.”
“Well, yes—actually, I do.” He gave her a sheepish smile that shot pain through her heart.
“I’ll tell you what I believe, Nicholas Hawken,” she said, sniffing. “You’ve come ’rou
nd, pretending friendship with my father, and—and an interest in me, while all the time, y-you—”
“Maria,” he protested, “I did not know you were Burton’s daughter while you were at Kirkham! WhenI…er, when we…” He sensed it would do more harm than good to mention the turn their relations had taken at Kirkham. “Maria, you must trust that that is not true. You are a lovely woman…and very special to me.”
She looked up at him with glistening eyes, then glanced down, turned and walked out of the room.
Nick would have kicked something if he could have done it silently. He could not remember a time when things had gone so badly with a woman. He usually managed his relations with the ladies with much more coolness than this.
He should have known from the first moment he’d seen her—when she’d cuffed him and knocked him off his feet on the road to Kirkham—that things would never be simple, or easy, with his lady fair.
Going on the assumption that Nicholas would not return to the party, Maria made his excuses for him, saying that he’d been called away. She half expected him at her chamber window later, after the house was quiet and all the guests had left, but he did not reappear.
She did not know whether to be thankful or upset.
Nay, she was thankful. Truly. She had no wish to see Nicholas Hawken again. He was a lying, sneaking blackguard who had no regard for honest and virtuous behavior.
Lying in her bed, and watching shadows dance on the walls, Maria thought through her disturbing conversation with the unscrupulous marquis. He’d as much as admitted to searching her father’s study, but he’d also said it was for the purpose of proving him innocent. She did not know whether she could believe him.
Either way, it seemed that someone believed the Duke of Sterlyng was guilty of treason, else why would Nicholas risk searching through his things?
In the short time since he’d come for her at Rock-bury, Maria had become fiercely attached to her father, and she was not about to allow anyone to discredit him now, just when they’d been reunited.
Maria wished she had a better grasp of politics, or knew more of the powerful men in Parliament. If she could get them to talk with her, perhaps then she would be able to piece together an understanding of what her father’s involvement might be, or who was trying to ensnare him in this unethical plot.
Nicholas said he worked for the Duke of Bedford. Maria knew that Bedford, the Regent of France, was brother to the Duke of Gloucester. He was another of the king’s uncles, the man responsible for conducting the French war. Alisia had said Bedford was the one who’d dismissed Nicholas from service years before. Was he also the one accusing her father of treason?
Maria frowned. She’d heard Sterlyng speak of Bedford, and knew they were close friends. What evidence could Bedford possibly have? And why would he believe the worst of her father?
There had to be some sign or actual documentation, else Nicholas would not have bothered searching her father’s study and risk being caught. However, Maria would bet her life that her father was not involved in any way. He would never betray his friend Bedford—or his country.
Someone, the real culprit, had somehow managed to make Nicholas believe her father was guilty of treachery. And that was why Nicholas was engaged in pursuing her so diligently. He had done all that was possible to gain legitimate entry into her life.
Yet he was just as much a scoundrel as she had believed. What Alisia had seen beneath his surface was only more deception.
Maria’s heart hurt.
She knew now, beyond a doubt, that he did not care for her. He had never cared for her. He merely wanted to make her so weak-skulled in his presence that she would not question any of his actions. And he’d been entirely too successful.
He had deliberately kissed her senseless, had consciously beguiled her to the point of abandon in order to make her so besotted, so completely overwhelmed that she’d let his prying go unnoticed.
He had nearly succeeded. Even now, when she did not want to think of the ways Nicholas could make her respond, Maria could feel his warm lips upon her skin. She could smell his scent upon her body.
She turned to make herself comfortable for sleep, but her gaze alighted on the window. ’Twas open.
Though she tried to tell herself she’d left it ajar because the night was warm, Maria knew she’d left it that way on the off chance that Nicholas would return. She told herself she only wanted to talk to him—to assure him that she would be making her own inquiries to absolve her father of any wrongdoing.
She sat up abruptly, then threw herself facedown on the bed. Rather than thinking about Nicholas, she needed to concentrate on this matter of treason, and try to figure a way to exonerate her father. She would not leave that knave, Nicholas Hawken, to his suspicions.
Maria considered going to her father about this, but decided against it. ’Twould only upset and embarrass him, and she did not want either. Nay, this was something she could deal with on her own—to show Nicholas how badly he’d erred. Then she would say goodbye to the marquis forever, and choose a husband from among the many suitors who had already spoken to her father, requesting her hand.
Punching her pillow into shape beneath her, Maria almost wished the duke would choose a husband for her. ’Twould make things that much easier.
Nicholas paced the length of his bedchamber, restless and edgy. He was tempted to return to Bridewell Lane and climb up to Maria’s room, but he knew she’d be more likely to shove him out the window than welcome him with open arms.
He was worried. Maria had become far too important to him. The idea that she might take matters into her own hands was frightening. What if she managed to discover the identity of the traitor and confronted him? The danger to her would be enormous.
Nick slammed his knuckles on the table next to his bed.
His growing regard for Maria did not settle well. He’d never been so wrapped up in a woman that his purpose became sidetracked and muddled in his mind.
Mayhap ’twas time to gather his cronies for a night of carousing. A good binge would suffice in getting that little blond termagant out of his thoughts. There were plenty of other likely wenches who would just as soon take a marquis to bed than fight him.
But none would suit him half as well as Maria.
All diversions aside, he had to redouble his efforts to apprehend whoever was responsible for contriving the evidence against Sterlyng. If only Nick could discern some purpose to implicating the duke, he would have a greater chance of deducing who his true enemy was.
Unfortunately, no reasonable explanation came to mind, other than the possibility of throwing Nick off the trail. That in itself would occupy his time and efforts and keep him from discovering and thwarting the real traitor. There was a very good chance that this man was using the distraction to siphon even more damaging information to France.
Whatever the reason, somehow Nicholas would manage to keep Maria safe. She had no place in all this intrigue. He wished it were possible to go to her father with what little information he had, but until he had more than just a suspicion that the duke was innocent, he could not divulge what he knew.
The candles burned low as Nicholas thought again of Maria, and he cursed under his breath at the most recent turn of events. More than ever, he needed to stay close to her, but doubted she’d be disposed to let him, not after the way he’d bungled their encounter in her father’s study.
Somehow, he’d have to convince her that he was not the enemy. On the contrary, he cared more about her than his own life.
Nearly a week passed with Nicholas unable to get close to Maria. When she went riding near Westminster, she was always accompanied by one of her many suitors. Walks along the riverside were never solitary affairs. One or more gentlemen accompanied her, along with Lady Alisia. Nick had gone to any number of fetes and soirees in hopes of seeing her, but she was not in attendance at any of them.
He finally had some luck when he learned of a boating par
ty being hosted by Gloucester’s wife.
Lady Eleanor was a lusty female with an adventurous nature. She had few inhibitions with regard to the men and women of her circle. ’Twas no difficulty at all to persuade her to help him press his suit with Maria.
A large group of festively dressed noblemen and women was assembled on the banks of the Thames not far from Westminster Hall. Here, couples would board small boats and row down to one of Lady Eleanor’s favorite places, a park on the opposite shore. There the party would disembark and engage in a few rounds of paille-maille, and whatever other amusements Lady Eleanor had planned. Afterward, they would all sit on heavy cloths spread out on the ground, and eat a meal prepared and served by a score of servants.
Arriving there, Nicholas caught sight of Maria standing at the water’s edge, talking with some other ladies. She was unaware of his presence.
His breath hitched at her loveliness.
She wore a gown of forest green trimmed in white, its neck cut low, exposing a vast amount of bare skin. An excessive amount of skin, to Nick’s way of thinking. He bristled as he noticed each man in the party taking his turn gawking at her.
Maria still did not notice him, and Nicholas intended to keep it that way for now. He knew she would avoid him if possible, so he planned to commandeer a gig and get her into it with him, while Lady Eleanor distracted the others nearby.
Maria would then be his captive.
Nick smiled for the first time in days.
His timing needed to be impeccable, so he waited until Maria had been assisted into the gig, and her partner was about to board. As Eleanor got the attention of the young man who was to go with Maria, Nicholas bullied his way forward, took the other man’s place and had pushed off from the quay before Maria had a chance to protest.
“Nicholas Hawken,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “you had better have a very good reason for this, else you are a dead man.”
Chapter Twenty
His Lady Fair Page 16