A Visit from Sir Nicholas

by Victoria Alexander

  And if, perhaps, on a rare occasion, she had glimpsed a man who resembled Nicholas on a busy street and her heart had twisted slightly, or if she had heard a voice in the crush of guests at a party and her breath had caught for the barest fraction of a second, or if she’d awoken from a dream with a sense of loss so profound there was the briefest ache in her throat, they’d been mere aberrations. Memories of a disloyal heart that had had no more substance than gossamer and had been just as insignificant. He had no place in her heart or in her life. And he never would.

  Nicholas Collingsworth had come very close to breaking her heart. Indeed, would have done so without a second thought if her feelings for him had been at all real. Which, of course, they had not been. He had, however, embarrassed and humiliated her. She would not allow him to do so again.

  She whirled back toward her brother. “It’s ridiculous, of course, but why ever did you think there was something between us?”

  Jonathon rose to his feet and drew a deep breath. “Because I heard you. You and Nicholas.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, you heard us?”

  “In this very room. The night before he left England.”

  She sucked in a hard breath. “You were eavesdropping? On a private conversation? How could you?”

  “I wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, I was trapped. It was most inadvertent on my part.” Indignation sounded in his voice. “You are not the only one who has arranged assignations in this room on occasion, you know. Indeed,” an expression somewhere between sheepish and proud crossed his face, “one way or another I seem to have some sort of tryst in the library during every Christmas ball.”

  “It was not a tryst!”

  “It would have been if you’d had your way,” he said with a smirk.

  She gasped. “I should have strangled you a few minutes ago when I had the chance!”

  “Idle threats did not work when we were children, and they will not work now. Besides, I am out of reach and I intend to remain out of reach.”

  In spite of his words, he grabbed his chair and whipped it around in front of him in the same manner in which he had done so as a child, when his teasing would drive her to retaliate. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if he stuck his tongue out at her at any moment.

  “Now then, as I was saying, I had arranged a meeting with a charming young woman. I can’t recall her name now, but she was amusing.” A smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Most amusing.”

  “And?”

  “And when I heard Nicholas coming, I hid behind the sofa, because I thought it was her, you see. I had hoped to surprise her.”

  “That sofa?” Elizabeth nodded at the sofa at the far end of the wall.

  For as long as she could remember, the sofa in the library had sat in that very spot facing the fireplace, providing a delightful place for intimate conversations between friends or for a young girl to read and consider her future or even for children to hide from unrelentingly vigilant governesses. While her mother had refurbished any number of rooms in Effington House since she’d become the Duchess of Roxborough, the library was sacrosanct to the Effington men, who considered it their personal domain. Elizabeth wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that the sofa, or its predecessor, had been in precisely the same position since the house was first built.

  “That very one. You can certainly imagine how the surprise was on me when I realized that instead of a delectable young lady—”

  “Whose name you cannot remember,” she said pointedly.

  “Perhaps she is more delectable in hindsight.” He shook his head. “At any rate, Nicholas was in the library. I scarce had a moment to consider how to make my presence known when you arrived. As I had no idea how to extricate myself without a great deal of embarrassment on all sides,” he shrugged, “I decided silence was the wisest course.”

  She grit her teeth. “So you were there the entire time?”

  He nodded.

  “Yet you’ve never said a word to me about it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”

  “Because, at the time, I thought Nicholas was right.” He squared his shoulders slightly, his gaze met hers, and for a moment he was every inch a future duke and not merely an annoying older brother. “I agreed then that whatever had occurred between the two of you was insignificant compared to what you shared with Charles. Looking back on it now, I think, perhaps,” he blew a long, resigned breath, “I might have been wrong.”

  “What?”

  “I am confident there was affection between you and your husband, but I am not as sure it was,” he paused, “a grand passion.”

  “A grand passion?” Her voice rose. “Are you mad? A grand passion? I cannot believe you are spouting something so ridiculous. Obviously you have read too many of Mother’s novels and too much of Father’s poetry.”

  “And you have not read enough.”

  “Grand passions are the stuff of books and poems and have no place in the reality of life.” The words came out of her mouth without thought, and a voice in the back of her mind wondered when she had become so staid and stuffy. “Although I’ll have you know the passion between us was exceedingly grand.”

  “I stand corrected.” His tone was cool, but there was a skeptical gleam in his eye. “Still, I’m not sure if you have been as happy, perhaps, as you could have been.”

  “What utter nonsense.” She jerked her chin up. “I loved Charles and he loved me, and it was indeed the grandest of passions. We were quite, quite happy together. Why, blissful does not begin to describe our lives. If he hadn’t died, I daresay we would have been ecstatic to the very end of our days!”

  “Probably why you feel compelled to tell me this at the top of your lungs,” he said mildly.

  Once again, she wanted to hit him. “You are infuriating, Jonathon, and I have had quite enough.”

  She grabbed her hat and cloak and started toward the door. If she stayed one moment longer she would no doubt throttle her brother, and she hadn’t the time or the patience to waste on him now. No, Elizabeth had spent far too long putting Nicholas out of her life to allow him back in without a fight. If she was going to do battle with a man who had achieved all that Nicholas—Sir Nicholas—had, she would have to use every weapon at her disposal, and she hadn’t a moment to lose.

  Lady Langley, Elizabeth Langley, was a woman of accomplishment and a far cry from the frivolous Lizzie Effington. And more than a fit opponent for Nicholas Collingsworth.

  “Where are you going?”

  “First, I’m going to inform my solicitor, that traitorous, vile rat of a creature, that his services are no longer required. Then I am going to pay a visit to father’s solicitor, who has served my family and my family’s interests—not Charles’s, not Collingsworth’s—well for countless number of years to see if there is anything that can be done about this.”

  She whirled toward her bother. “Regardless of what Charles and I shared, I shall not allow him to reach out from the grave and put me in the nice, pleasant, mindless niche he thinks I belong in, like I was a porcelain doll. And I will not allow an arrogant, high-handed stranger interested in nothing more than the increase of his own fortune to control my life and the future of my sons.”

  “Good for you, Lizzie.” Admiration sounded in Jonathon’s voice. “You may count on my assistance should you require it.”

  She cast him a scathing glare. “It’s the very least you can do.”

  “And I stand ready to do the least whenever possible.” He grinned. “You could always throw yourself on Nicholas’s mercy, you know.”

  “Never!”

  “Mercy is probably the wrong word. But he’s a highly intelligent man and a man of business as well. If you—or rather we—simply show him how well you have done thus far with Charles’s—or rather your—finances, perhaps he will agree to leave things as they are. Even better, send over your account books and I shall present them to him myself.”

  “I shall h
ave them sent over at once.” She met her brother’s gaze. “Do you really think there is so much as a remote possibility he’ll leave things as they are?”

  “I have no idea. But, don’t forget, he was my friend as well as Charles’s. He was a good man and honorable then, and I can’t imagine he has changed substantially.”

  “Do you think anyone who has acquired the kind of fortune he is reputed to have can remain a good and honorable man?”

  He paused for a mere fraction of a second, then nodded firmly. “I do.”

  She snorted in disdain. “Well, I do not. And I do not intend to risk all on the possibility that Nicholas Collingsworth is a good and honorable man. Besides, in my experience, even good and honorable men rarely look beyond a pretty face.”

  Again she started for the door, then stopped and turned back to her brother. “That is everything, isn’t it?”

  Jonathon drew his brows together in confusion. “Everything?”

  “There is nothing else you have kept from me, is there? Nothing I should know?”

  He shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

  He gasped in feigned dismay. “You wound me deeply, dear sister.”

  “I would certainly like to.” She huffed with exasperation. “If your ability to keep secrets is any indication as to how well you will perform when you inherit father’s title, you will certainly make an excellent duke.” She pulled open the door. “If you are permitted to live that long.”

  His laugh trailed after her. “It should be an interesting Christmas, Lady Langley.”

  Christmas was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment. It would be her fourth as a widow, and in the years since Charles’s death, in spite of her resolve, each had been more difficult than the last.

  In the foyer, Elizabeth called for her maid, requested her carriage to be summoned, and tried to be as pleasant as possible. Given the myriad of thoughts churning in her head, it was not an easy task.

  When Charles had been alive, it had been easy to push aside all thoughts of the last time she’d seen Nicholas. Besides, he’d been very far away and therefore easy to ignore. But since Charles’s death it had been increasingly difficult to disregard the memories that nagged at the back of her mind at every Effington Christmas Ball or surfaced unbidden whenever A Christmas Carol was read aloud.

  Increasingly difficult not to wonder what her life might have been like if she had not chosen the comfort and security and unquestioned affection of one man over the adventure and excitement and, yes, uncertainty of another, even if Nicholas had essentially given her no real choice. She’d told herself that night and in the ten years since she hadn’t really cared for him at all.

  What if she’d been wrong? Then and now?

  What if he’d been wrong?

  How much more difficult would those memories and those doubts be to ignore with Nicholas back?

  Nonsense, she hadn’t been wrong. She would not permit herself to consider otherwise. Besides, it scarcely mattered now. She wanted nothing to do with him, and no doubt he wanted nothing to do with her as well. If she could not find a legal means of escape, there was always the possibility Jonathon was right. Nicholas might well jump at the chance to relieve himself of a responsibility he had never asked for.

  And if he didn’t?

  She would be compelled to do whatever possible to make his life a living hell. She had no idea how to make a man’s life a living hell, but surely it couldn’t be all that difficult. However, the details were of no significance at the moment.

  She raised her chin and cast a brilliant smile at the footman holding open the door. She was, after all, the Viscountess Langley, who successfully handled her own finances, and the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough, and surely blood would tell. Her father wrote bad poetry and her mother wrote novels of romance and adventure, and no doubt some of that vast reservoir of creativity surged through her veins as well. When the time came she would come up with a plan.

  Nicholas Collingsworth hadn’t the faintest idea what he was about to face.

  Lizzie Effington was now Elizabeth Langley.

  And Elizabeth Langley was a force to be reckoned with.

  Chapter 6

  “Everything appears in order.” Nick scanned the final page in the ledger book but, after having assessed the entries leading to this point, was more than confident everything was in perfect order. “Charles’s assets have not merely been maintained but his investments have grown substantially.”

  Nick flipped the book closed and glanced up at Jonathon, who stood before the desk in the Effington House library with a distinct air of good-natured innocence and a brandy in each hand. In their youth, Jonathon had never been as innocent as his appearance, and Nick suspected even the advance of years had not changed that. The fact that his friend adopted just such a manner now did not bode well.

  “In addition, I found nothing amiss in the household accounts nor for the estate. Indeed, there have been a number of improvements made that are quite progressive and have proved most beneficial. You’ve done an excellent job.”

  “While I do do an excellent job in many things”—Jonathon handed Nick a glass and sat down to face his friend across the desk—“I cannot take the credit for this.”

  “Don’t be modest.” Nick leaned back in his chair and sipped the liquor. The duke’s fine brandy was as good as always. Yet another thing that had not changed with the passing of years. “I know the increase of one’s fortune or, God forbid, the earning of money is frowned upon, but you should be proud. Obviously, you have inherited your father’s skills at investment.”

  While it was certainly not public knowledge, Nick was well aware that the Duke of Roxborough had dabbled in various investments including real estate and publishing for much of his adult years and had, for the most part, been quite successful. In an age in which many of the long-held fortunes of the landed gentry had dwindled, Effington wealth had increased.

  “Indeed, I have. I have turned a tidy profit in several successful ventures, and I am most immodestly proud of those. And while I’m also proud of the brilliant handling of Charles’s fortune as well—”

  Nick laughed. “Brilliant?”

  “Brilliant,” Jonathon said firmly. “The fact remains that it is not my doing.”

  “No? Your father’s then?”

  “Elizabeth has handled everything herself.” Jonathon’s expression was decidedly smug.

  “I see,” Nick said slowly, not that he was surprised. The surprising aspect of all this was that Charles had appointed someone to manage his affairs in the first place instead of leaving them in his wife’s eminently capable hands.

  “And I see no reason why she should not continue to do so.”

  “Nor do I.” Nick studied his friend for a long moment. “Nor do I see any reason why I should have received from you a letter implying all was not well with Lady Langley’s finances.”

  “Lady Langley?” Jonathon raised a questioning brow.

  “Lady Langley,” Nick said, ignoring Jonathon’s unspoken question. He had absolutely no intention of having anything other than a cursory, businesslike relationship with Jonathon’s sister. Charles’s wife. Lady Langley. Calling her—indeed, thinking of her—by anything other than her title was starting down a path he refused to tread. “And you have not answered my question.”

  “I know.” Jonathon grinned and raised his glass in a salute. “I’m very good at evading questions. Indeed, I consider it a gift I have honed to a fine art.”

  Nick tried not to smile and failed. Jonathon too had scarcely changed with the passage of years.

  “And, as impressive as that skill is, I still want to know why the letter you wrote me carried the vague, but no less unmistakable, message that something was amiss with Lady Langley’s finances.”

  “I thought it was time you came home for something longer than a mere visit,” Jonathon
said simply.

  It was Nick’s turn to raise a brow. “And you took it upon yourself to make certain I did so?”

  “Someone had to. Why not me?”

  “Perhaps I was not ready to return.”

  “Perhaps you were simply too stubborn to return.” Jonathon cast him a pleasant smile.

  “Stubborn?” Nick gasped in feigned indignation. “Me?”

  “You’ve always been stubborn and you well know it. Besides, you could have come home and stayed four years ago when you were knighted. By my observations, that’s approximately when you had more money than Croesus and your accomplishments publicly acknowledged. That, old friend, is when you had achieved all you had set out to achieve.”

  “You seem overly aware of my success.” Nick wasn’t entirely sure if he was annoyed or flattered.

  “Your uncle took it upon himself to make certain we were all aware of your accomplishments. Besides, it’s difficult to hide a knighthood even if you did not remain in London long enough for your friends to applaud your success. I know I probably mentioned it in a letter, but I should add my congratulations in person.”

  “Thank you,” Nick murmured, pushing aside a touch of guilt at his elusive behavior on his last visit.

  “Beyond that, as I had my own investments, I could not fail to note the success of yours. You will find I have followed your lead and hold stock in several of the same areas you have shown an interest in, including,” Jonathon grinned, “your steamship line.”

  “Are you serious?” Nick stared in amused disbelief.

  “Wickedly clever of you, I thought, to use the new docks at Southampton rather than London, what with the convenience of the railway lines and all.”

  “Ships are getting bigger,” Nick murmured, then shook his head. “Surely I would have noticed if you were among my investors.”