The Captain of All Pleasures (29 page)

Grant frowned. “And yet, you just left her?”

“I was trying to be noble, to be good to her. Now I realize I was just bloody stupid. I should have brought her back here and married her as soon as I ended my marriage to Lydia.”

“The man—Chancey—had a point, though, if you weren't prepared to marry the girl at the time.”

“He was right then, but things have changed now.”

“Are you ready to remarry?”

Derek's brows drew together. Why did Grant sound so doubtful? “I will be, with your help.”

 

Hours later, when they'd reviewed the books and anything else Grant could think of, Derek stood and stretched.

“There isn't much left to go over,” Grant said.

He'd warmed up to his brother's plans, possibly because he'd seen how serious Derek was about learning. Still, Derek wanted to reassure him. “I will handle my own, Grant.”

Grant looked at him curiously, as if making a decision, then nodded. “For the first few months, it'll be learning by trial. I've got everything running smoothly, so you have a bit of time to search for your sailor before you need to dig in.”

“I appreciate your help. Now, and for the last few years.”

Grant appeared uneasy. “Well, don't get all sentimental on me. I drew a very large salary as your estate manager.”

When Derek raised his eyebrows, Grant smiled blandly and changed the subject. “You know, it wouldn't kill you to attend one of these balls that Mother keeps harping on.”

“Forget it—”

“Just hear me out. I know you're in love with this girl,” he said, his eyes searching Derek's face. “God knows, I've never seen you like this. But it wouldn't hurt to at least act as though you're cooperating with her.”

“Why? Because she wants me to start the search for a new bride now that the annulment is finalized? I told her about Nicole, but you know she won't give up. If I go to one of these things, she'll push a hundred women at me in the hope that one catches my fancy instead of a penniless, nameless American. If I go, she'll think she has a chance of getting me to wed someone who is not Nicole.” He ran a hand over his haggard face. “It wouldn't be fair to her, because it will
never
happen!”

Grant seemed taken aback by his vehemence. “Not even a couple of nights to smooth out some of the gossip about the annulment? Your presence after so long would help stem the worst of it. The season's halfway over. It wouldn't become expected of you.”

Unfortunately, Grant's arguments made sense. He didn't want to bring Nicole here and have her affected by any slurs on the family. Still, he wavered. “You know I need to be here in case I get some news.”

Grant exhaled in exasperation. “You would only be going a few blocks away. A message would be sure to reach you.” When Derek said nothing, Grant continued, “When you were off gallivanting all over the world, it was Mother here who bore the brunt of shame because of Lydia.” Grant stood and paced. “She's been the one most affected by the rumors, and she was the one who had to deal with Lydia's temper on a regular basis. That woman has no restraint.” Grant looked as though he would shudder. Lydia's compulsive need to shock was most likely his stodgy brother's main complaint against the woman.

“And you? Did her conduct affect you?” Derek asked with concern.

“Are you kidding? It nearly made me swear off marriage. But I did feel sorry for Mother. It was extremely hard on a woman as proud as she is.”

Grant's words forced him to recognize how selfish he'd been to leave them all here with her. He'd hurt more than just Nicole.

Derek threw his hands up to signal defeat. “Very well. I'll go tonight, but I can't guarantee I'll be fitting company.”

“Thank you, Derek,” Grant said. He walked to the door, then turned back and said in a voice that might have been just a little hoarse, “It's good to have you back.”

O
h, yes, he was making his mother happy. She flitted around Lady Crossman's ballroom from one matchmaking mama to the next, teasing them with Derek as if he were a slab of meat set before ravenous animals. Earlier she'd mentioned that people were surprisingly receptive to the idea of Derek remarrying. Soon, she predicted, all the new layers of gossip would bury the scandal.

People could overlook a lot when one of the wealthiest peers in London had just become available. Particularly since his mother had told everyone he was actively seeking a wife. He supposed it wasn't a lie; he was actively seeking Nicole.

He'd always had a sense of wasting time at the soirees and routs, as if he were just playing up to something that would happen in the future. Tonight was no different. He was anxious and impatient. With Nicole, he'd lived in the present. Not thinking of the future or the past, but only of his time with her. Recalling how easy he'd felt around her made it even more difficult to be civil to all the little chits pushed at him and Grant. Their vapid conversation had not improved in the time he'd been away. Not that he'd expected it to.

He thought he'd concealed the worst part of his irritation, but if the petulant little looks and huffy retreats were any indication, he hadn't succeeded. Grant knew that he'd reached his limit, because he politely removed him from the crowd. Grant looked about to laugh when Derek made a throttling gesture with his hands.

“So, little brother, am I doing my duty?”

“If not in spirit, then at least in deed,” Grant replied with a grin. “You should see your scowls. You look menacing.”

“That must be because I am completely bloody miserable.”

Grant smiled ruefully. “I see now that this won't work for you. Well, at any rate, I appreciate all you're doing—or trying to do—for our dear, sweet mother.”

As if on cue, Amanda marched over to them with a disdainful look on her face. Both sons groaned.

“Really, Derek, I did not want you to come here to scare away all your potential brides.” She opened her fan in a huff. “And I mean that literally—you do scare them! Why, I heard from Lady Hanson that her daughter was too afraid to come anywhere near your glowering self.”

He shrugged casually. “Ask Grant here, at least he thinks I'm trying. And I've had many ladies come up to me tonight.”

“Yes, but those are the more desperate ones. Hardly good ton. Their families
make
them cozen up to win a man like you.”

Grant obviously thought that was hilarious, but with watering eyes he kept his laughter in check.

Derek grinned in response. Sometimes he could see in Grant the lighthearted boy he'd been.

“Anyone for champagne?” Grant offered. “Mother?”

“That would be lovely,” she replied with evident maternal pride in his manners.

He looked to Derek, and when he shook his head, Grant smiled before he turned to go. Derek then dutifully listened as his mother expounded on the merits of various young women, hinting broadly that he should choose them over
anyone,
any one woman, he might have in mind. Subtlety was not his mother's strong suit.

In fact, when Grant had accidentally let it slip that Derek was searching for a sailor, his mother had been just short of swooning. The idea that he was besotted with a penniless American who lived on a sailing vessel had become all too clear….

A hushed murmur flew over the floor, distracting Derek's attention from their conversation. A curious rush of anticipation surged through him.

Amanda carried on undaunted, not discerning that he wasn't really listening. “Yes, after that debacle with Lydia, you have to marry only the best. We can't have her kind aligned with the family again,” she said, pushing her point again that the American “wharf rat girl” was not for him.

“Of course,” he replied automatically, his curiosity piqued by the disturbance at the door. He felt an immediate excitement; indeed, his whole body tensed.

And then…it happened.

Staring, with his jaw slack
. He was capable of no more when he saw Nicole, Nicole as he'd never dreamed of her. She was dressed in a pale blue gown wrought of some gauzy, near-transparent material. Her coloring had always been vivid, but when set against the soft blue, it made him silently marvel. And with her red-gold braids and curls piled atop her head, her body looked small and delicate, fairylike. Yet at the same time she was softer, fuller, and she easily filled the low, straight bodice of her gown.

He wasn't the only one experiencing the pleasure of watching her, he realized with a glaring sweep around the room. As she proudly walked in on some older man's arm, all around her people stopped their conversations and stared.

She looked changed, and not merely because of the clothing. Her air was more sedate, and her regal demeanor was pronounced as her escort presented people to her. Wait, why were people being presented
to
her?

His mother did not miss his obvious reaction. “Oh, I see you've spied the talk of the ton,” she commented, sounding pleased. “That's the Atworth granddaughter, Lady Christina. We'd all heard the story of the shy, retiring heiress finally coming back to London, but who would have thought she would be so lovely?”

“Lady? Shy?” he managed before he snapped his mouth shut.

His skin went cold, and his chest tightened. He watched dumbfounded as Nicole, looking like a princess, was led through the crowd. Who
was
that man escorting her?

He ran a hand over his face. Things began to make a warped kind of sense.
Put Nicole in a dress, and she transforms into a lady.
“What's their title?” he snapped.

His mother frowned at him, but said, “The girl is sole heir to the Atworth marquisate.” Misunderstanding the reason for his stunned expression, she explained, “Because of some political wrangling a few hundred years ago, if there is no immediate male heir, the title will devolve on a female, and so she is the heir. She's to be a marchioness, and a ridiculously wealthy one to boot. She would have come to England sooner, but she was afraid to travel—”

“Afraid to travel?”
She'd gone toe-to-toe with him in a grueling sailing race. How many future marchionesses understood which sailing chanteys accompanied which chores? Or knew not to tuck their thumbs in their fists when hitting someone?

Why hadn't she told him?

He'd only been half-listening as his mother prattled on, but one comment drew his attention. “She won't be on the market long. She's had a score of offers. Even now, look at all the lovesick swains.”

Nicole was thronged by suitors. His hands clenched.

“Oh, Derek, I do wish you would marry someone like her,” she sighed.

“Done.” He gave her an absent pat on her hand.

“Done? Just like that? What's the meaning—”

“It just occurred to me that you are, as usual, absolutely right,” he interrupted, never taking his eyes off Nicole, as if afraid she might disappear. “And I will endeavor to do what's best for the family. Now, if you will excuse me…” He stalked off, nearly knocking the glasses from Grant's hands as he returned.

When Nicole spotted him, her eyes widened in astonishment. Distress rang in her voice. “Derek!”

She caught herself, and looked around at the surprised faces of her acquaintances. “Uh, Lord Stanhope. We hadn't expected to be honored with your presence this evening,” she said, her empty pleasantry more even with each word.

“Care for a stroll?” he asked, as he bent down to secure her arm.

“Well, I don't believe—” Nicole started airily, but he pulled her up from her seat on a settee and along to the terrace.

“Sutherland!” she said, once he'd maneuvered them outside. “What the hell do you think you're doing? You don't go to these things. I heard you didn't attend these functions!”

“I could ask the same of you. When did sailors start making Lady Crossman's eminence list?”

Her eyes slitted as she answered, “I have as much right to be here as you do, maybe more.”

“That's right. Seems you rank above even me in the hierarchy. You must have been amused when I accused you of trying to bag an earl.”

She tilted her head side to side. “Well, there was a pleasing sense of irony about it, yes,” she said.

“It's the perfect cover—Lady Christina living a quiet life in finishing school on the Continent, never visiting because she's
afraid to travel,
but finally coming back to live with her grandmother. I'd wager Lady Christina's shyness makes it difficult to get any information about her because she doesn't accept many visitors.”

Nicole assumed a bored pose. “So you've figured us out. Shall I clap?”

“I thought I knew you,” he said with a rough smile. “You rub one foot against the opposite calf when you're nervous. You angle your head when curious.” He leaned in near her ear, his voice low as he said, “And when I bring you to pleasure, your little toes curl.”

She jumped away from him, shivering. “Are you quite through?”

He reached for her gloved hand, but she moved closer to the railing as though averse to his touch. A cold mask fell into place on her striking features. “Give me one reason why you feel you're entitled to even a second of my time.”

He took a deep breath. “I need to explain some things—”

“You think?”
she cut in bitterly.

This was not going as planned. He'd hoped she'd be somewhat glad to see him—hoped she'd missed him enough to at least listen to an explanation. “Do you even want to know why I left?”

“Oh, I believe I know why,” she assured him as she turned to go.

When he grasped her arm again, she struggled to fling him away.
“Let me go,”
she said with such venom in her voice, he almost did.

“Not until you let me explain.”

She pulled away again, trying to get someone's attention through the corridor.

“Who are you looking for? One of your young pups?”

She smiled then. “I'll most likely marry one of those men.”

“The hell you will!”

“And why not? You still don't think I'm good enough?”

“That's not it.”

“Then what is?”

Before he could stop himself, he grated,
“Because you're going to be my wife.”

Her eyes widened, then glittered in anger. “Well, that's a rapid turnover. Word has it you just got rid of the last one.”

“So you know?”

“Everyone
knows.” She looked down and smoothed the flounces on her skirt with snappish, overly crisp motions.

“Give me a chance to explain that. Please,” he added at her uncompromising look.

“What's to explain? We were together for that long, and you never told me you were married.”

“You never told me you were heir to one of the wealthiest houses in England.”

“That's not the same! I didn't hurt you by my omission.”

He exhaled and reached for her hand. “You're right.”

She looked startled that he'd agreed, but masked it quickly. “I don't want to hear your excuses. Nothing can excuse the way you treated me.” Her eyes became suspiciously bright. “Leave me alone,” she demanded, and tried to free her hand.

When he held her firm, she brought the heel of her slipper down on his instep and jerked away at the same time, immediately fleeing to the ladies' retiring room.

He hurried after her, indifferent to the scene. At the doorway, he accosted the squat matron standing attendance.

“Does this room have another way out?” he barked.

“Really, Stanhope, the nerve—”

“Does it or not?” he ground out.

“Yes!”

He ran out the patio doors and along the side of the building to find the door to the retiring room. He didn't have to look for long before he saw Nicole, skirts hiked, barreling out into the street. He had to smile. Even dressed like royalty, underneath she was his irrepressible Nicole. His heavy footfalls echoed on the street as he gained on her.

Until she reached Mayfair, turned a corner, and ran directly up the front steps of what had to be the largest mansion on the square.

Derek stared, marveling at the luxurious home. How had Nicole ever gotten comfortable in this place dripping with money? He followed up the steps and banged the massive brass knocker, waiting impatiently until an elderly butler answered.

“I would like to see…Lady Christina.”

“My lady does not receive visitors at this hour,” he answered on a whistling breath. “Would you care to leave a card?”