A Matter of Principle (34 page)

“
I do.” Nicolas pushed his friend into a stuffed chair. “I’ll get the brandy.”

“
It’s on my desk.” Rickard waved his hand vaguely. “I have taken a few draughts already.”

Nicolas took a closer look. Rickard’s reddened eyes lacked focus and were held up by blue smudges. He poured two brandies, small ones.

“
What did she tell you?” Nicolas asked, handing one glass to Rickard.

Rickard considered the niggardly portion of amber liquid and cocked one brow at Nick. “I’m not drunk.”

“
And I mean to ensure you don’t get to be. At least until we have this out.”

“
Have what out?”

“
What did she tell you?” Nicolas asked again.

Rickard snorted. “That you bedded her.”

Nicolas lowered himself into a second stuffed chair. “So she’s not going to be truthful, even with you.”

Rickard leaned toward him. “Don’t hit me.”

“
What?”

“
Don’t hit me.”

“
Why would I hit you?”

Rickard’s eyes squinted conspiratorially. “You had the opportunity. Did you take it?”

Nicolas sat back, gathering his words and his composure. “I
should
hit you for that, you lousy scut.”

“
Tell me, Nick. Man to man.”

Nicolas sat forward, his flushing face inches from Rickard’s. “I also had opportunity three years ago when she threw herself at me and begged me for it. She’s had her hand on me and all but put me between her thighs herself!”

Rickard’s eyes widened. He pulled back as Nicolas continued.

“
And had Sydney ended up your wife instead of mine, you would not stray for one such as Lily. Or any other, if truth were out.” Nicolas narrowed his eyes. “Would you?”

Rickard shook his head. “There’s no chance in heaven. Or hell.”

Nicolas relaxed, then. “And neither did I.”

The men sat in silence for a pace, drawing comfort from each other’s steady presence. Nearly thirty years of companionship had woven their lives in such a way that adversity could not fray. The growing to manhood, the passing of their parents, the death of a sister and wife; all these storms were weathered with an underlying love that few men are blessed to share, even if they are born as brothers.

“
How much, Rick?” Nicolas finally asked. “How much is half the estate worth?”

“
None of your damn business.”

One corner of Nicolas’s mouth curved up. “Stubborn ass.”

“
Pigheaded Norwegian.”

“
Snot-nosed English prig.”

Rickard snickered. “Carcass of a fatherless mutt.”

“
Swarm of maggots on a hyena-in-heat’s buttocks.”

“
Infected boil on a jaundiced elephant’s poxed scrotum.”

Nicolas’ mirth exploded. “Now
that
was a good one!”

Rickard hooted, wiping tears. “Hyena-in-heat’s buttocks?” He drew a breath and laughed louder.

Nicolas was relieved. The strain of Lily’s demands extracted a heavy toll from Rickard; he was thinner and more deeply lined than when Nicolas returned from Norway. Then, happily wed and facing the birth of his daughter, he radiated joy. Not so, now.

“
Will you answer me, Rick?” Nicolas ventured when they quieted.

“
Why? Are you going to give me the money?” Rickard asked with good-natured sarcasm.

“
Perhaps.”

Rickard froze. “How?”

Nicolas stood to pour new brandies. “I sold my land in Norway.”

“
So you said.”

Nicolas turned to face Rickard. He handed him the refilled glass. “How much?”

“
Two hundred and twenty acres at eighty dollars an acre. Seventeen thousand, six hundred dollars, to be exact.” Rickard gulped the brandy.

Nicolas nodded slowly.

“
So now, ‘Prince’ Nicolas, what have you to say?”

“
Would you sell it outright and lease it back? Or would you prefer a loan?”

Rickard threw his brandy glass at Nicolas who ducked. It hit the far wall, knocking a sizable chip from the plaster. “You have some nerve!”

“
Rick, listen—”

Rickard jumped to his feet and pulled back a fist. He swung at Nicolas. With the benefit of less alcohol in his veins, Nick was able to avoid the bruising contact.

“
Rick! Stop it!”

“
You dare to humiliate me with your attempt at humor? Well, I’m in no mood!” Rickard lunged at him.

Nicolas wrapped his arms around Rickard’s ribcage, wrestling him to the ground by sheer weight advantage. “I’m not attempting to be funny! I’ve got the money!”

Rickard struggled against him. The men thrashed about on the floor of the study, kicking chairs and tearing fabric. “I’ve no need of your highness’s charity!” Rickard bellowed.

“
Would you hold still?” Nicolas grunted. “Good God, Rick! Come to your senses, man!” Nicolas rolled to his back and allowed Rickard to pin him.

“
What… are you… thinking?” Rickard panted.

“
I’m thinking of saving your livelihood!” Nicolas barked. “For the sake of your wife and daughter!”

Rickard blanched, then flushed crimson. “I’ll not give in to blackmail!”

“
Have you a choice?”

Rickard climbed off Nicolas and leaned back against his desk. He pulled one knee up and rested an elbow on it. He still breathed hard. “Nelson says her claim is suspect.”

Nicolas sat up and crossed his legs. “Lily knows this?”

Rickard nodded. “She counters with documents from her own lawyers.”

“
She has you by the bollocks, Rick.”

“
To put a finer point on it, brother, she has
you
by the bollocks,” he retorted. “Quite literally, as it seems.”

“
I can bear her mischief.”

“
Can you?” Rickard cocked one brow. “And what about your wife?”

“
Sydney knows the truth!” Nicolas avowed.

“
Knowing the truth, and facing the arrows of speculation and innuendo are two disparate matters.” Rickard’s countenance shifted, lightened. “Is
that
why? To protect Sydney?”

Nicolas frowned. “My intent, my only motive, was to give you relief now that I have the means to do so.”

“
But it would serve you as well, would it not?” Rickard prodded.

Nicolas shrugged. “I suppose.”

“
Yes.” Rickard rubbed his forehead. “So it would.”

“
What is your decision?”

Rickard pulled a deep breath. “I have no desire to either sell or mortgage this land. And until I am forced to do so, by the presentation of irrefutable documentation of legal judgment, I will not.”

Nicolas unfolded his legs and climbed from the floor. He limped to the brandy bottle and poured a last drink. Gulping the fiery liquid, he dropped the glass back on the side table.

“
Very well,” he said. “But remember, should you need it, I have offered my assistance.”

Rickard was quiet for so long, Nicolas rounded to look at him.

Rickard lifted his eyes to Nicolas, and locked on his gaze. “Thank you.”

Nicolas nodded. “I’m sheering my sheep tomorrow. Will you come?”

“
I’ll be there at dawn.”

“
See you, then.” And he left.

March 29, 1822

Cheltenham

Nicolas straightened and leaned backward, bracing his hands behind his waist as he stretched. He wiped sweat from his brow on an already filthy sleeve, then sniffed several times and spat bits of wool on the ground. The long, heavy shears hung loose in his hand.

“
I must have had a moment of insanity when I wished to return to this task!” Grinning at Rickard, he shook his head. “I forgot how horribly these creatures smelled!”

“
I was wondering what romantic thoughts prompted you thus,” Rickard answered and pointed at Jeremy. “He managed quite well last year when you were in Norway!” Jeremy smiled and wordlessly tagged another sheep’s ear.

“
And he shall do fine in the future, I assure you!” Nicolas turned to address his young foreman, pointing with the sharp steel blades. “Should I insist on doing this myself next year, please remind me of my advancing age and accompanying foolishness, will you?”

Jeremy laughed, then. “Oh, yes, sir. I shall readily remind my employer—and my benefactor—that he is old and doddering. Right after I saw my left arm off with a rusty spoon!”

Laughter burst from Nicolas, his bass voice echoing through the trees and startling the small flock. Rickard whooped his amusement. The three men sat down together and ladled water from a bucket. Nicolas poured a cupful over his head, and then shook it. Drops of crystal, refracting tiny rainbows, splattered the other men.

“
Easy, you Norwegian hound!” Rickard smacked Nicolas’s chest, backhand. “I’ll bathe myself later!”

Leif and Stefan tumbled through the woods from the sheep’s keep.

“
It’s clean now,
Pappa
! All cleared out. Where’s Wolf?” Stefan’s gaze scanned the flock.

“
I sheared him toward the first,” Nicolas answered, waving at the paddock. One ram raised his head and began to trot to toward the railing, tail wagging furiously.

“
Wolf!” Stefan called and ran toward his erstwhile pet.

“
May I help you, Sir?” Leif offered.

Nicolas glanced at Jeremy. “I suppose you should be trained, since you will be pressed into service next year, eh?”

Jeremy nodded. “Of course.”

“
I’ll start you with tying the batts, then.” Nicolas pushed to his feet. “The twine is over here…” The sheep were sheared in such a way that the wool came off in one matted piece, belly to back. Nicolas showed Leif how to roll the batts and tie them into bales to sell.

“
We’ll keep a few for ourselves, of course. Anne and Sarah will clean and prepare those a bit later. But for the most part, we’ll take these to market in St. Louis,” Nicolas explained.

“
Why are those sheep tied over there?” Leif pointed at five young males on a tether near the stable.

“
Those, we’ll eat.”

“
Who butchers them?” Leif asked.

“
I have in the past, but I understand that Jack has some experience. Is that so, Jeremy?” Nicolas faced his foreman.

“
He has,” Jeremy confirmed.

“
And Anne is skilled at smoking meat.” Nicolas patted his stomach. “We all are sensible of her culinary skills, are we not?”

A chorus of vigorous assent answered his query.

Leif nodded emphatically. “At Yuletide, her
pinnekjøtt
was the best I ever had!” he gushed, referring to the smoked lamb ribs that were Norse tradition.

Nicolas squinted at the sky. “We best get back to it, men. Watch us, Leif. You’ll see the routine and how we work together.”

The men fell into their pattern: sorting, tagging, shearing, counting. Two more males were tied to the tether. Wolf was spared because he bred well with the ewes, much to Stefan’s oft-repeated relief.

Sydney and Anne brought the men a hearty lunch of sausage, cheese, bread and apple pie at midday. A much-appreciated pitcher of cold honeyed ale accompanied the food.

The men worked until late afternoon. With Jeremy and Leif helping, it only took one day to complete the task, not the two days that Nicolas and Rickard required in the past.

“
Will you stay for supper?” Nicolas asked his friend.

Rickard glanced at the cloudless sky and the lowering sun. “I’d enjoy the company, Nick, but I best be getting back to Bronnie.”

Nicolas flashed a crooked grin. “We’re not bachelors anymore, are we, brother?”

“
No, we are not.” Rickard slapped his shoulder. “And someday you must tell me why I remained so for such a long time. What, in God’s name, was in my mind?”



“
What,
i Guds navn
, was in my mind?” Nicolas groaned. Forehead resting on crossed arms, he lay on the rug of their bedroom while Sydney generously applied liniment to his abused body. Heat from the fireplace amplified the stench of the balm; it stung her nostrils and made her eyes water.

“
You said you wanted to feel your muscles burn with effort,” Sydney reminded him.

“
Oh, they burned, all right,” he answered, his deep muffled voice emanating from his armpits. A knock on the door preceded Anne’s entry with a tray of steaming willow bark tea for his pain.

“
Set it on my dressing table,” Sydney instructed.

“
Will there be anything else, Ma’am?” The young woman’s eyes avoided her half-naked superior stretched out on the floor. But her mouth twitched when he moaned.