The Saint of St. Giles

by Millard, Nadine

  Robert would probably just say something insulting.

  But Nic was nothing if not honest to a fault. And he wasn’t devilish like Simon, or charming like James, or brutal like Robert.

  “I have craved your company, Miss Langton,” he said softly, sincerely. “I haven’t wanted to. But believe me, I have.”

  Her eyes widened, and he heard her breath hitch.

  “Oh,” she finally whispered which, given her penchant for saying things that drove him mad, was a first.

  There was a moment of deafening silence before she frowned slightly and spoke again.

  “I don’t know why you shouldn’t crave my company, you know,” she said, sounding much more like her maddening self. “I don’t wish to sound arrogant, your grace. But I’ve never really met anyone who wished he didn’t want to be around me.”

  “I can well believe it,” Nic said matter-of-factly.

  No man in his right mind would avoid her on purpose.

  He hadn’t been in his right mind in years.

  “Then, why –”

  “Miss Langton,” he interrupted, not wanting to even try to explain the confusion of his thoughts about her. “I apologise. I should have been – kinder. Would you do me the honour of taking a drive with me tomorrow afternoon?”

  Once again, her mouth popped open in surprise.

  Once again, Nic had to steel himself not to take advantage.

  He was tired of worrying about the girl from a distance. If Robert and James weren’t going to keep her away from Fulham and his ilk, then Nic would. If that meant spending his days with her instead of avoiding her at all costs, then that’s what he would do.

  “You mean you want to voluntarily spend time with me?” she asked dryly.

  She was a minx, of that there was no doubt.

  And damned if he didn’t find it almost painfully attractive.

  “If you will permit it, yes.”

  She eyed him suspiciously, the dancers around them forgotten by them both.

  “Is this just to keep me away from Lord Fulham?” she asked, far too astutely for his liking.

  Again, his sense of honesty reared its head.

  “In part, yes,” he answered truthfully, his heart hammering at the disappointment that flitted across her face.

  She was quiet for an age.

  The dance came to a halt, and Nic found himself having to work at letting her go.

  “I’ll come on one condition,” she finally said as he escorted her back to the edge of the ballroom.

  His lips quirked.

  “And what’s that?”

  “I want to go to Gunther’s,” she said suddenly, the light of challenge sparking in her eyes. “Everyone goes on and on about how delicious the ices are. I want one. And I want you to have one. It’s frivolous and silly and unimportant. And I want to go.”

  Nic was sure Alison thought he would refuse to waste his afternoon doing something so frivolous.

  And truth be told, he rarely spent his afternoons away from St. Giles and the orphanages and home he patronised.

  But he was suddenly loathe to have Alison think he was – what had she called him? A boring old fuddy-duddy.

  So, just this once, he would allow himself to shirk responsibilities and prove that he could have fun.

  “You have yourself a deal, Miss Langton.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh, Ally you look wonderful.”

  Alison brushed her hands nervously down her skirts for the hundredth time. At least it kept her from wringing them.

  She was a ball of nervous excitement.

  Last night, Lord Barnbury had been – well, wonderful.

  Much as it had angered her that he had swooped in and taken over the waltz, she could admit to herself that inside she’d been ecstatic.

  He hadn’t danced another with her, and Lord Fulham had been all cordiality when he’d come to claim a reel, since he’d been robbed of the waltz.

  However, James had stepped in, declaring it time for them to leave.

  Alison should have been irritated by her cousin’s high-handedness. But after her dance with Nicholas, after the change in him, the glimpse of the fun, charismatic man lurking beneath the sombre surface, nothing could have dampened her mood.

  She’d floated home on a cloud of expectation.

  Now she was in the drawing room, awaiting Nicholas’s arrival and hoping desperately that he hadn’t reverted to the grump he usually was around her.

  “Do you think so?” she asked now, biting her lip.

  “Of course,” Abby answered immediately. “You’d look wonderful in a sack, my dear. But lemon is so becoming on you.”

  It had taken Alison an age to pick what to wear for her afternoon with Lord Barnbury. She must have tried on fifty gowns before poor Eliza could escape to fetch her a white spencer, and white bonnet trimmed with a lemon ribbon to match the colour of her walking dress.

  As she’d expected, Robert and Abigail had been thrilled to hear of the plan. And whilst none of them, especially not Alison, would mistake it as an attempt at courtship, it was nice to see Lord Barnbury trying to be kind.

  In the secret parts of her heart, parts she refused to give any credence to, Alison wondered if the duke might be coming to like her just a little.

  His words last night had been so cryptic. He had said that he craved her company, but that he shouldn’t.

  Those words both confused and excited her in equal measure.

  A gurgle from her niece shook Alison from her reverie, and she looked over to see Lottie beaming up at her, her huge blue eyes studying her intently.

  Alison’s heart melted.

  She had never considered herself the maternal sort. Yet looking at Charlotte now, so lovely in her mama’s arms, she felt a pang of longing.

  Alison reached over and plucked the babe from Abigail’s arms, delighted in Lottie’s squeal.

  She cradled the baby against her, inhaling the scent of her soft, downy curls.

  “She’ll drool on your gown,” Abigail laughingly warned her.

  A knock on the door sounded, and Alison’s heart leapt from her chest.

  He was here!

  She caught Abigail’s knowing smirk and felt her cheeks heat.

  Before she could scold her sister, however, the door swung open, and there he was.

  Alison’s breath caught, not at the duke’s handsomeness, which still admittedly took her breath away, but at the look in his eyes as he stared at Alison and Lottie.

  It was so intense that she felt it to the depths of her soul.

  At first, the navy depths lit with a fiery desire so strong that Alison felt as though it could scorch her skin.

  But in the next moment, they turned so bleak, so desolate that it pained her to look into them.

  What on earth could have caused such a look of abject misery to haunt his eyes?

  Alison wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort for a pain she didn’t even understand.

  But within the blink of an eye, all trace of emotion was gone. And he had reverted to the cool, calm, unflappable duke he ever was.

  Alison was coming to learn that he could mask any real emotion more easily than anyone she’d ever met before.

  “Good afternoon, Abigail. Good afternoon, Miss Langton.”

  He bowed to the two ladies, seeming completely at ease.

  But Alison knew she hadn’t imagined that look, and it just made him all the more intriguing to her.

  “If you’re ready, Miss Langton, my phaeton is outside.”

  “Of course.” She smiled, feeling inexplicably shy.

  Last night when she’d teased him about taking her for ices and being frivolous, she had felt confident in his company.

  Now, she felt unsure of herself.

  Abby rushed forward to take Lottie from Alison’s arms.

  “Goodbye, sweetling.” Alison bent to kiss Lottie’s cheek.

  She straightened up and watched as Lord Barnbur
y reached out a finger and gently stroked the baby’s cheek. Her stomach fluttered alarmingly as a potent desire unfurled inside her at the small action.

  Gracious! How wanton of her.

  “I’m ready, your grace,” she mumbled, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

  She swept out the door before him, studiously ignoring her sister’s smirk as she went.

  Nic took the time that he helped Alison into the high-seated conveyance to gather himself.

  Seeing Bonnie the other day and being reminded of Alison had shaken him.

  Seeing Lottie in the arms of her aunt had floored him.

  Nic had often wondered what it was about Alison Langton that got under his skin so much, from the first second he’d seen her.

  Watching her hold the niece that looked so like her had been a blinding revelation.

  Though they were nothing alike, in either looks or mannerisms, Alison’s build was similar to that of Ciara’s; her height, her figure. Her blonde hair, though always perfectly coiffed unlike a maid’s would ever be, was a similar colour. And they both had a joie de vivre that was infectious. Though Nic had avoided Alison’s natural light and warmth thus far.

  Seeing Alison hold Lottie had brought to mind an imagine of Ciara holding their babe. And that made him realise that the first, immediate effect Alison had on him had been because for a split second, she’d reminded him of the woman he’d failed in the most unforgiveable way.

  Everything after that first moment however, he thought wryly, had been all Alison. And now that he knew her better, how she ever could have reminded him of Ciara was beyond him.

  Upon seeing Alison hold Lottie, the desire and something else that coursed through him, had been overwhelming. But in that same moment, he remembered Ciara and the baby he’d lost, and his heart had twisted with sorrow. How could a single woman cause him to experience both fascination and pain?

  How could he ever contemplate being a father when he’d had the chance and let down both Ciara and his child in the most heinous of ways?

  Hastily gathering his control he made certain Alison was secure, and he circled the phaeton to his seat.

  Only last night he had promised himself that he would just be in Miss Langton’s company, keep his head, and retain his lauded equipoise.

  He climbed into the vehicle, turning to face Alison.

  She was beaming at him. Bedecked in lemon and white, her hair shining in the summer sun, her blue eyes sparkling like pools of warm, exotic waters, she looked like a breath of fresh air. A young, carefree innocent who didn’t need to be dragged into his complicated and unhappy past.

  The problem was that Nic was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her out.

  He found himself wanting to share the truth with her, wanting to explain why he kept her at such a distance. And why he found it so hard to.

  “So, I believe you demanded ices, Miss Langton?”

  Her laughter was like a balm to her soul.

  “I requested ices, your grace. Very politely.”

  His own laugh joined hers.

  “Very politely.” He grinned, feeling younger and lighter than he had in years.

  He eased the pair of greys into the busy flow of traffic and riders, silent as he navigated the bustling street.

  “Thank you, your grace.”

  He looked over at the timid statement, surprised to see her eyes lowered in an uncharacteristically demure fashion.

  “What for, Miss Langton?”

  She glanced up at him then, her cheeks flushed pink, making him ache to touch her.

  “For deciding to forgive me for whatever crime I had committed when we first met. And for – well, for accosting you on Simon’s balcony,” she blurted.

  Nic felt that new, uncomfortable guilt fill him again.

  He’d been unfair. He knew that.

  Miss Langton was spoilt and frivolous, perhaps a little shallow.

  There was nothing wrong with that. She was a beautiful young lady experiencing her first Season. She should be frivolous and shallow.

  It wasn’t her fault that Nic was so fiercely attracted to her. Nor was it her fault that he could never be with someone like her.

  Nicholas’s past had changed him in a fundamental way. He could do nothing other than dedicate his life to helping others, to trying to somehow assuage the guilt that was so much a part of him now.

  It was just who he was.

  And someone like him didn’t belong with someone like her.

  But for now, for today, he could simply try to enjoy being in her company. Even knowing that the gap between them was too wide and always would be.

  “You committed no crime,” he said softly. “I was – frustrated. By things that were out of your control… and apparently mine.”

  He could see her confusion at his cryptic remark, but he wasn’t about to confess the almost unbearable attraction he felt toward her. And he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere near a conversation about kissing her.

  “Now, tell me what flavour you demanded – er, requested,” he laughed.

  Her frown cleared, and that smile lit her face once more.

  “I have no idea,” she said excitedly. “There are many, are there not? I want to try them all.”

  “Well then.” He nodded. “All it is.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  She was thoroughly enjoying herself, Alison decided some time later. Perilously so. Her heart was in more danger than ever today, when Nicholas was being so charming. So light-hearted!

  They’d talked and laughed and joked about the beau monde and the stark differences between English and American Society.

  He had a wicked sense of humour, and his commentary on the ton and its members was both riveting and hilarious.

  Now, he’d gone across the road to Gunther’s to procure her much anticipated ices.

  She’d laughingly objected when he’d declared that he would get one of every flavour.

  Of course, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t!

  Alison looked around, soaking up the comings and goings around her. As with everywhere else Abigail had described to her, Gunther’s was positively brimming with Quality, and Alison was pleased with the number of greetings being called her way.

  She seemed to have well and truly secured herself as a success in Town.

  Only weeks ago, that would have thrilled Alison, for it would have meant that she would have her pick of beaux.

  Now, though she was relieved and pleased, the idea of a husband was anathema to her.

  The truth was that she hadn’t met a single gentleman she was interested in.

  Except one.

  As though her thoughts had conjured him, Nicholas appeared, and Alison clasped a hand over her mouth.

  He was carrying a silver tray filled with glass bowls of ices in different colours.

  And behind him were two servants, carrying identical trays filled with even more bowls.

  She laughed aloud as he sauntered toward her, uncaring about the gasps, whispers, and stares all around him.

  “My dear Miss Langton.” He bowed elaborately as he reached the phaeton. “Your selection.”

  He handed her the tray before jumping lightly into the driver’s seat.

  Then he reached over and took the trays from the waiting servants, one in each hand.

  “Where are we going to put all of this?” Alison gasped.

  “Hmm. I don’t suppose you want to eat all of them?”

  “I don’t think I could eat all of them,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you got all of them.”

  “You wanted all of them,” he answered simply, but Alison’s heart flew as though he’d declared his love for her. “Why don’t you try them and pick what you like?”

  She bit her lip, running her eyes over the melting ices, trying to decide which one looked the best. “Don’t you want a taste?”

  She looked up when he didn’t answer to find him watching her, his eyes gleaming with a heat that seared h
er skin.

  She felt trapped in that gaze, unable to look away, unable to breathe.

  A sudden shout from across the street rent the air, and Nicholas’s eyes snapped away from hers.

  Alison heaved a breath, her heart thundering.

  She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but it felt as though something had shifted between them.

  Feeling feverish, she reached for a lemon ice and began to eat it with the delicate silver spoon.

  She was quite sure it was delicious. But she couldn’t taste a thing.

  Nicholas’s heart was thundering so loudly, he was surprised Alison couldn’t hear it.

  Get a hold of yourself, man he told himself over and over.

  Being this close to her, smelling that floral scent, watching the summer breeze play with loose tendrils of her hair was torture enough.

  His lust had been thrumming through his veins from the second he’d laid eyes on her.

  Seeing her delight when he’d arrived with one ice and sorbet of every flavour on the menu had awakened something infinitely more potent and dangerous than desire. Tenderness.

  He’d raised more than one eyebrow during his purchase, and he knew the ton well enough to know that tongues would be wagging.

  But Nic didn’t care. It had all been worth it to see her face light up with joy.

  But then she’d asked him if he wanted a taste and God help him, he’d nearly ravished her there and then. In full view of the ton.

  It had taken Herculean effort just to look away from her.

  This situation was fast getting outside his control. And that wasn’t something he was used to. In fact, he always made sure every single part of his life was rigidly under his control.

  But that was before Alison Langton.

  However, he couldn’t sit here in turmoil. And he wouldn’t punish Alison again for his own shortcomings by regressing to a surly, unpleasant boor.

  He turned back to face her, bracing for the impact of her.

  “The lemon,” he smiled. “A good choice.”

  She stared at him for a moment before blinking rapidly.

  “Oh, y-yes. It matched my gown,” she said wryly.