The Saint of St. Giles

by Millard, Nadine

  How could he feel like weeping for his past and be anxious to start a new future?

  And, he felt a fresh twinge of guilt, how could he be remembering Ciara and the promises he’d made to her, all the while realising that he’d never loved her the way he loved the woman he was holding?

  His love for Ciara had been real, Nic was sure of it.

  But he had loved her with a boy’s heart, he realised now. A boy whose heart had been untouched by sorrow.

  Now he was a man. A man who had experienced grief and loss.

  He was damaged. More damaged than he’d realised before Alison had forced him to confront his past.

  But with the sorrow came a new depth of feeling, a greater capacity to love.

  And the love he had for Alison was all-consuming, deep, unstoppable, and eternal.

  And terrifying because of it.

  Things had become very complicated, very quickly.

  Nic ran a hand up and down Alison’s back, relishing the fact that he was touching her like this, holding her like this.

  But he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment.

  He’d kissed her, fallen in love with her, shared his work with her, his past with her.

  Yet, what did it matter if he loved her? If he took solace just from holding her? What did it matter that he only felt truly alive now when he was around her, now when he realised he hadn’t really been living before her?

  Did that change anything?

  For so many years, he hadn’t considered himself to be someone who could share his life with a woman.

  He knew that most ton marriages existed only for the merging of powerful names, of linking wealth and status, and for Peers especially, to do their duty and carry on the family name.

  But he’d never be able to do that with Alison. He’d never be able to live a separate life from her.

  Already, he missed her too much when she wasn’t around.

  If she belonged to him, if she were his, he’d never be able to drag himself away from her.

  But the only way he’d been able to live with himself for these past ten years was by dedicating his entire life to helping people like Ciara, children like his son might have been if he’d lived.

  Was he really going to turn his back on all of that?

  Alison had been silent throughout his musings, and he found himself quite desperate to know what she was thinking.

  Yet far too much had happened tonight for him to have that particular conversation.

  He simply wasn’t ready.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, and Nic saw they were outside Robert’s townhouse.

  “Sweetheart,” the endearment slipped out without conscious thought. “We’re home.”

  He was surprised by the aching need that little sentenced evoked in him.

  A part of him, a strong, undeniable part, wished that she were his and they would have a lifetime of nights like this, where she’d rest in his arms and he’d awaken her outside the home they shared together.

  She sat up and smiled shyly at him and though he hadn’t even begun to unravel the complicated tangle of his thoughts, he couldn’t help but lean forward and press his lips softly to hers.

  He purposely held back, refusing to unleash any of the passion that always lurked below the surface.

  He placed her gently on the bench across from him so he could open the carriage door and get her inside.

  But no sooner had he let go of her than the door swung open and Robert’s furious face glared at the pair of them.

  “You,” he rounded on Alison, whose eyes popped open at his tone. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alison had been exhausted, worn out from the day’s events, but Robert’s tone quickly woke her up.

  She’d never seen him this angry.

  Never heard him speak to anyone like that, certainly not her.

  She had a feeling she was getting a glimpse of the bad-tempered monster he used to be.

  “I–I–” She didn’t know where to start but as it turned out, she didn’t need to.

  “Don’t speak to her like that.”

  Her eyes snapped to Nic, and her stomach plummeted at the look of anger between the two men.

  It reminded her of that night at the theatre that seemed a lifetime ago. Only the roles were reversed now, and it was Robert who was furiously angry, and Nicholas jumping to her defence.

  She watched with sick apprehension as the gentlemen engaged in yet another silent battle of wills.

  Finally, to her relief, Robert’s expression cleared somewhat.

  “Your sister was worried,” he said to Alison, his tone flat, his eyes coloured slate with contained anger. “We came back, and you were gone with no explanation. The servants said you ran out of the house.”

  “I’m sorry.” She gulped. And she was. Truly. “I–I forgot that – um…”

  “She obviously forgot to tell you that I asked her to accompany me to one of my charitable homes this afternoon,” Nic said smoothly, so calmly, that even Alison nearly believed it.

  “One of your what?” Robert frowned in obvious confusion, and Alison took advantage of the moment to jump from the carriage and hurry by him.

  She didn’t hear if Nic even responded.

  As she dashed up the steps to the front door, she did hear Robert enquire stiffly as to whether Nicholas was staying to dine with them.

  Worried that he’d refuse, Alison turned to implore him.

  “Please, stay,” she said quietly.

  He looked at Alison, and Robert looked at him.

  “I’ll stay,” he said, and she beamed at him before rushing inside to change out of her ruined gown, lest Robert really lose his temper.

  She and Nic had so much to talk about, Alison knew.

  He had loved deeply and suffered the most unimaginable loss.

  But he’d also shared that with her, let her see a glimpse of the life he kept hidden from the world.

  Ciara must have been special to have captured a heart like Nic’s.

  Alison felt a pang of sadness.

  Nicholas hadn’t recovered from the death of Ciara and his son because he hadn’t properly grieved for them. Shutting himself off emotionally wasn’t healing.

  She was determined to help him.

  She loved him too much to let him continue to live that way.

  And if it hurt like a dagger to the heart to help the man she loved mourn the loss of the woman he had loved, then that was the price she would have to pay.

  Nicholas watched her go, aware that Robert’s eyes were boring into him.

  Muttering an oath under his breath, he turned to face one of his oldest friends.

  “I know,” he said before Robert could even speak.

  “Good,” was the quick, sharp response.

  Then with a sigh, Robert slapped him on the back before leading the way inside.

  Stepping into the drawing room, Nicholas took in Abigail’s speculative look, Senna’s slight smile, and James’s frown that could give Robert’s a run for its money.

  Marvellous.

  It was odd for Nic to be on the receiving end of any sort of censure. Usually, it was the other way around.

  The only thing that would make this worse would be if –

  “We’re the last to arrive, then.”

  If Simon came.

  Nic turned to see Simon run his black gaze speculatively over the room, Amelia eyeing them curiously by his side.

  The tension was palpable, and Simon would recognise it, since in the past he had caused that atmosphere almost everywhere he went.

  He frowned slightly then held up his hands.

  “I can’t have done anything this time,” he said. “I’m barely back in the country.”

  Before anyone could answer him, Alison swept into the room looking beautiful and perfectly put together in mint-green silk, her hair piled atop her head.

  Nobody would ever guess she’d been dancing
barefoot in fountains only hours ago.

  Without thinking, Nic stepped forward to greet her.

  There was an immediate cessation in the chatter around the room.

  “Ah, so it’s not me,” Simon laughed.

  “Shh,” Amelia scolded.

  The bell rang for dinner, and the group awkwardly shuffled toward the dining room.

  “I told you,” Simon said in a whisper loud enough to be heard in France. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Yes, darling,” Amelia responded with practised patience. “Now, shh.”

  Nic had been grateful to the ladies at dinner when they’d kept the conversation light and easy.

  He couldn’t help but feel this evening had been some sort of trap.

  Why else would both James and Simon have just happened to come along at dinner time?

  He’d been grateful again to the ladies when they’d insisted on shirking convention by having the gentlemen join them in the drawing room straight after dinner, foregoing their usual port and cheroots.

  Much as it irritated him, though, to think he’d been brought here to be interrogated, he had to admit how nice it was.

  If he were willing to give less of his time to St. Giles and come back into Society in a real way, attending events and taking more interest in his various estates and holdings, if he were to marry Alison and no longer keep himself so far removed from everyone, even his friends, there’d be countless dinners like this one.

  Perhaps without the tension that still crackled around the room.

  This evening was like so many they’d shared before.

  They talked, they laughed.

  But Nic felt strangely removed from it all.

  He ran his gaze around the room.

  Amelia had her nose buried in a book, pointing things out to Simon, who pretended to look but watched her instead, playing with tendrils of her hair.

  James and Senna stood by the window, James whispering in her ear before kissing her softly, his hand resting on her swelling belly.

  Robert and Abigail were as they ever where, not speaking much but enclosed in a bubble that surrounded just the two of them, their love obvious from just the way they looked at each other.

  And that’s when Nic realised why he felt so distant tonight, so removed.

  His eyes inevitably moved to her.

  Alison sat at the pianoforte playing softly, her eyes on the keys.

  It was because none of this felt like his life anymore.

  Being here with his friends, being the only one of them single, it never would have bothered him before. Not in the slightest.

  But now it didn’t seem right that he wasn’t with Alison, sitting beside her on the piano bench, listening to her play, watching her fingers spring lightly over the keys.

  His whole life should be with her, by her side.

  Just as all his friends, unusual though it was in the ton, were blatant in their admiration and affections for their wives, so, too, should Nic be with Alison.

  But he couldn’t.

  Much as he had to use all his willpower not to go to her, he simply couldn’t.

  They hadn’t spoken of a future because Nic didn’t know if they had one.

  He hadn’t told her he loved her because he’d been too cowardly to admit it even to himself until today.

  He loved her so much that he ached for her.

  But he couldn’t go to her.

  “I don’t think you’ve blinked for ten minutes straight.”

  Simon’s voice by his side distracted Nic, and he turned to see his friend offer a tumbler of brandy.

  He hadn’t even noticed his friend move, that’s how wrapped up in Alison he’d been.

  He mumbled his thanks, took the tumbler, and swallowed the contents in a single gulp.

  Simon raised a brow but didn’t comment on the unusual action.

  Nic conducted his drinking moderately and sensibly as he did with everything in his life.

  Everything but Alison.

  His gaze was drawn to her again, and he saw that she’d now joined Amelia on the chaise, the two of them chattering happily.

  “Nic.”

  Simon’s voice was low and serious.

  He turned to see his friend watching him closely.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled miserably.

  He didn’t even have the energy to present his usual stoic demeanour.

  Simon reached out and gripped his shoulder briefly.

  “You’d better figure it out quickly,” he warned gently. “Because both James and Robert are going to want an answer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The only sound in the room was the ticking of the longcase clock in the corner.

  Nic didn’t want to break said silence and didn’t know how, in any case.

  Abigail and Alison had retired hours ago.

  He hadn’t managed anything more than a formal bow to her, not with the eyes of her guardians boring into him.

  Senna and Amelia had left soon after, leaving James and Simon behind.

  Now the four of them sat in Rob’s study, facing each other and not saying a word.

  “I must say,” Simon suddenly piped up. “It feels strange to be on the other side of this. Usually, I’m the one in trouble. It’s quite a novelty – getting to sit here and judge someone else. Rather enjoyable.”

  Nic scowled at him, earning an unrepentant grin.

  “But,” Simon continued. “If someone wouldn’t mind catching me up?”

  “Only Nic can do that.”

  Nic turned at Rob’s quietly spoken words.

  “Would you like to explain why Alison ran out of here this morning and then ended up coming back with you, looking like she’d been dragged through a hedge?”

  Ah, he’d noticed that.

  “I told you, she must have forgotten –”

  “Nic.”

  He stopped at James’s interruption, turning to look into eyes the exact colour of Alison’s.

  “You’ve never lied to us before, please, don’t start now.”

  Nic almost laughed aloud.

  Never lied to them before? Perhaps, technically that was true. But he’d kept them from his life, his real life, for the past ten years.

  “What is it you want me to say?”

  “Robert seems to think that there might be something between you and Alison.”

  “Actually, I know there’s something between you and Alison,” Robert interrupted. “Just like I know something happened the other night at Vauxhall.”

  “Wait, what?” James snapped. “You never told me that.”

  He turned to glare at Nicholas, who felt a sudden tightening of his cravat.

  “Vauxhall Gardens?” Simon, who was decidedly not helping. “Why, I didn’t think you had it in you, Saint Nic.”

  “There’s nothing bloody saintly about him,” Robert glowered.

  “And little Alison Langton. I thought I detected a little devilment in her. Though a secret assignation in the Gardens with this paragon of virtue is something of a surprise.”

  “Shut up, Simon,” Nic finally snapped.

  He hated hearing Simon speak of Alison that way. Though from the glares the laughing earl was receiving from James and Robert, he wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

  “Nothing happened in the Gardens,” Nic lied. “And nothing happened today.”

  That felt like an even bigger lie.

  So much had happened today. But that was between him and Alison.

  And until he had the chance to speak to her, he certainly wasn’t going to discuss anything with her cousin and brother-in-law.

  And Simon, apparently.

  “Why are you even here?” he rounded on Simon. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Simon said with his usual devilish smirk. “I’m just here for the show.”

  Nic simply rolled his eyes then turned back to Robert and James. />
  “You’ve known me for almost my whole life,” he said. “You know that I would never take advantage of an innocent miss. Especially not Abigail’s sister, for God’s sake.”

  Robert and James shared a glance then, to Nic’s relief, nodded simultaneously.

  “That’s why I was so shocked,” Rob said. “It’s not like you, Nic. Usually you know better. But with Ally –”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re different. I see it. James sees it. Even Abigail sees it.”

  “Yet you disliked her so.” James took up the thread of the conversation. “Didn’t you think her quite spoilt?”

  “A spoilt, selfish, brat, if memory serves.”

  “Simon.” Nic turned to the interfering devil. “I told you to shut up.”

  “But you did say it,” he persisted like a stubborn bloody child.

  “Yes, I said it.” Nic was exasperated now. He wanted to get home.

  He needed to think. To process everything that had happened today.

  He needed to see Alison.

  But before all that, he needed to appease his best friends.

  “Nic, you are the most decent, trustworthy person I know, aside from James,” Robert said, ignoring Simon’s “ahem.” “If you tell me there’s nothing between you and Alison, then I’ll believe you.”

  “You must know we would never have an objection to you,” James said.

  “Um, you warned me away from both of your cousins under pain of death,” Simon said to James. “And Senna, if I recall.”

  James raised a brow at Simon. “That’s hardly the same.”

  Simon glared at James for a moment before shrugging.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “As you were.”

  Nic looked at his three closest friends, more brothers really, all gazing back at him.

  He didn’t want to lie to them.

  But didn’t Alison deserve to hear how he felt before anyone else?

  He determined he wouldn’t outright deny it, but he wouldn’t confess the truth either.

  Slipping on his mask of stoicism, the one he’d worn for ten years, Nic looked Robert and James in the eye.

  “I warned you a year ago that you had trouble on your hands with her,” he said, feeling like the worst sort of cad. “It cannot be a surprise to you that her behaviour has been a little unorthodox.”