The Fortune Hunter (15 page)

With the greatest effort, he kept his thoughts from intruding on his question. “May a friend of the shortest standing beg the favor of your company for a few minutes?”

“Frye,” she said without hesitation and without looking away, “please have some cocoa brought to the parlor. Or would you like something stronger, Hamilton?”

“Brandy for me, Frye,” he requested, managing a smile as he saw concern in Nerissa's eyes. It might be as feigned as his own indifference, but it was what he needed to see right now.

His mouth straightened. Elinor had been an expert at showing him what he needed to see at any given moment. So expert had she been that he had been the last to discover her infidelity when she made him the laughingstock of the
ton
before his voyage for America. Had he learned nothing in the years since?

He did not want Elinor in his head tonight. She was gone from his life. Tonight he wanted Nerissa to give him the comfort he had sought so unsuccessfully since Elinor had betrayed him.

When Nerissa gasped, he realized he had tightened his hold on her fingers painfully. “In the parlor,” he ordered Frye, not caring that the abigail was staring at him askance as he gave commands as if this was his house.

Nerissa stepped back as Hamilton strode past her. Exchanging a perplexed glance with Frye, she hurried into the parlor after him. The stiff line of his shoulders warned that the conversation would not be an easy one, although she doubted if any in which Hamilton was involved would ever be.

“I did not expect you to knock down my door tonight. I thought you were busy this evening, Hamilton,” she said to his back.

He bent to warm his hands over the embers on the hearth, although the night air was not cold. When she saw the line of drying mud on his Hessians, she knew he had not been with his tie-mates at a card table. More grime clung to his cloak that was as black as a starless night.

“I was.”

“Doing what?”

“Business, Nerissa.”

“Your quest to find that feckless thief,” she answered quietly, then realized she would have been wiser to remain silent, for his eyes snapped with steely fury as he whirled to face her.

“Do not probe into things that matter nothing to you.”

“But it does matter to me.”

The tails of his coat slapped his legs as he walked toward her. The ironic tilt of his brow matched the sarcasm in his voice. “Does it? Pray tell me why?”

“I thought we were friends, Hamilton, and friends share each other's pains as well as triumphs.”

When he grasped her shoulders, she heard Frye's gasp, and realized her abigail had followed them into the parlor. She had no time to think of anything else as he asked, “Friends? Is that all you wish to be? Do you wish to forsake this?”

His mouth was not gentle as it captured hers. It was as demanding as every aspect of him, and she knew the danger of relinquishing her will to his strong one. If Annis was correct, and her bosom bow had no reason to lie, once Hamilton was the victor in any chase, he tired of the hunt. She had seen how persistent he was in trying to get what he wanted. He had manipulated Mrs. Ehrlich with the skill of a master today and would do the same to her tonight. Yet, she longed to soften against him, to savor the strength of his hard body, to drown in the rapture of his touch. If she did, she would lose too much. This was a game at which she could never win. She was a widgeon to continue it, but she could not deny herself this delight … one last time.

When she put her hands up to push him away, his arm swept around her waist, pulling her tightly to him. His lips left sizzling sparks along her neck, threatening to dissolve her against him. Boldly, his tongue teased the curve of her ear as his breath seared her with its fiery pulse.

His voice was a low growl as he whispered, “Do you want this, Nerissa, or friendship?”

“I don't know,” she gasped, struggling to breathe as the longing to draw his mouth back to hers battled her good sense. Blinking, she put her hands on his rough cheeks and brought his face back so she could look up into his hooded eyes. “But I know you need a friend, Hamilton. I would be a friend to you, if you would give me a chance.”

She tried to guess what he was thinking, but could read none of the emotions altering his face from its fierce mask. They vanished too quickly as his features grew hard again. Releasing her, he stepped back. His gaze slowly moved along her, as if he was seeking something
she
was hiding. She yearned to tell him that she spoke the truth, but she wondered if he would believe her.

“Friendship is not what I wish from you, Nerissa.”

She gripped the back of the chair beside her, for her knees were weak with the emotions washing over her in a fierce wave. Softly she asked, “What do you wish from me?”

“I thought I had made that clear.”

The exacting sound of his voice lashed her. This was no profession of affection, but of the desire she had discovered on his lips. Without turning, she whispered, “Frye, will you please see to the cocoa?”

“Miss Dufresne, I must insist—”

“Frye, please.” She did not need to see her abigail's face to know that Frye was furious. Later she must soothe Frye, but now she must ascertain why Hamilton was treating her so coldly when his lips had been so lusciously warm.

The door closed behind Frye, leaving them in silence. Nerissa lowered herself carefully to the chair. She no longer trusted her legs to support her. Quietly she asked, “Why are you so angry at me?”

“Angry?” He caught her by the shoulders and brought her to her feet again. Kissing her swiftly, he murmured, “I feel nothing so tepid as anger for you tonight, Nerissa.”

She put her hands on his wrists and drew his fingers off her. “Then whom are you angry at?” Her laugh was sharp. “There is no need to ask, is there? You may have saved your brother's life today, but you can think only of vengeance.”

“I have to find that accursed sneaksman.”

Although she flushed at his crude words, Nerissa retorted, “And then what will you do, Hamilton? Once you have your revenge, what will you do?”

“Watch what is left of him hang when I hand him over to the authorities.”

“And then what?” she asked quietly, not letting him see how his words sickened her nor how she wished he would let her help assuage the pain that was consuming him. “What will you do when you have done all that you can to retaliate against that man?”

He stared at her, and his pain ached within her as if it was her own. She clenched her hands at her side to keep them from reaching out to him. If she let him hold her in rage, she feared she would never rediscover the sweetness she had found in his arms that afternoon. Her sympathy must have shown on her face, for, with a growled farewell, he strode toward the entrance hall.

“Hamilton?” she called to his back.

He did not face her, but stopped.

“Do you have no answer,” she asked, “or do you have no answer you wish to share with me?”

For a long moment, she feared he would not answer. Then he turned. No emotion gave life to his hard features. “Do not think to betwattle me with your gentle words and sweet kisses. I was a fool before, but I shan't be one again. Not for you, Nerissa, nor for that damned thief. Good evening.”

The door to the street closed loudly in his wake. Nerissa went to the front window and watched him stride purposefully toward the bridge and the city. Blinking back tears, she shivered at the fury in him tonight. She never had seen this side of Hamilton, and the strength of his passions unnerved her.

He had made one thing clear. He trusted her no more than he did any other woman. And why should he when she had been dishonest with him? She longed for more than friendship with him, but she would not be his next light skirt, to be used and left with a few gifts when he turned his eye to another woman.

Quietly, from behind her, Frye asked, “Do you think he will come back?”

“I don't know,” she whispered as she stared at the empty street.

“Do you want him to return?”

“I don't know,” she repeated, knowing that—if at no other time this evening—she was speaking the truth.

Chapter Nine

Nerissa stood at the window of her bedroom and watched the rain splatter into the puddles on the stones in front of the house. It was a dismal day that fit her mood. Hamilton had left the house in such a vile state more than three days ago, and she had heard nothing of him since. She had considered calling on Annis to discover if her bosom bow had spoken with Philip, but she had delayed.

Seeing someone happy, even her very best friend, would completely undo her now.

With a sigh, she walked away from the window and sat in the chair where she had left her book, unread. She picked it up and thumbed through it before setting it on her lap again. Although she had errands to tend to this afternoon, she had sent Frye to do them. To speak to their neighbors while she was as melancholy as a gib cat would be a mistake.

“Here you are!”

Nerissa managed a smile as she turned to see Cole in the doorway. His face was alight as he rushed across the room to grasp her hands and bring her to her feet. When she winced as he pulled on her left wrist, he hastily apologized.

“It is nothing,” she reassured him as she rubbed her arm.

“Come with me! I want you to be the first to see it!”

“Your work on the canal is done?” All thoughts of her grief vanished as she saw the truth on his face.

“The first part.” His grin stretched his broad cheeks into a happiness she had not seen on his face since they had exchanged harsh words in the front entry. “Do come, Nerissa. Come and tell me that you think it is wonderful … even if it is not.”

“It
will
be wonderful, because you did it.” She linked her arm with his and walked with him down the stairs and into his cluttered book room.

She usually avoided this room. Not just because it was Cole's sanctuary, but because, more than any other room in the house, it reminded her of Hill's End. Before she had moved to Bath, she had invited her stepbrother to Hill's End to select anything he might be able to use. His book room was crowded with furniture from Hill's End. He had been delighted with the desks and tables that had belonged to Nerissa's father, and she was pleased to see them being used.

Her fingers stroked the corner of a leather writing pad. It was all she could see of the brown material, but, in her deepest memories, she recalled sitting on her father's knee while he wrote at this desk.

She stepped over the piles of books and maps stacked haphazardly on the floor.
Seeing
more of her father's tables was an impossibility when they were covered with many times more books and papers than had fallen to the floor. She was unsure how her stepbrother managed to work in such chaos, but it suited him.

Cole pointed to one table, but she could not guess what he wanted her to see until he jabbed one page with his finger. The crisp paper crackled under his touch as he outlined the grand path of the canal through the hamlets and villages between Bristol and London. As he spoke of the locks and the tolls to be collected, she could imagine the excitement of the settlements when a barge stopped to unload food and merchandise from distant lands.

“It is grand, Cole. Grander than I had guessed. Did you devise this all alone?”

He smiled with satisfaction. “I did look at the preliminary work others have done, but no one has actually drawn all the plans.”

“Your hard work shows.”

“It is only the beginning. We must go to London, so we can find someone to finance this canal.”

“London?” She looked at him, but he was gazing intently at his drawings.

“Of course. Do you think we can find someone with both blunt and an imagination in this provincial city? We shall go to London, and I shall make this more than a dream.” Standing straighter, he let the map roll closed with a snap. He gripped it in his pudgy hand. “Otherwise, all this work is nothing but a piece of paper.”

“London?” she asked again faintly.

Taking her by the shoulders, he said, “Nerissa, we could travel by the Mail coach. It takes no more than twelve hours from here to London, for it is less than one hundred miles. Think of it! London! I daresay I haven't been in the Metropolis for more than two years, and you have never been there. I could find some financiers, and you …” He tapped her on the nose. “… you could buy yourself a new pair of gloves.”

Turning away so he could not see her expression, she said, “I don't think we can go.”

“How can we
not
go? I know I can find some people who would be intrigued by this venture.” The excitement in his voice tempered as he added, “Nerissa, I understand that we are not beforehand with the world, but can we be close as wax with our money when this opportunity might obtain us more brass than we could imagine?”

“I cannot make sovereigns appear out of midair.”

He kicked a pile of books to the floor, startling her. She backed away as he aimed his foot at another stack. The fury in his eyes reminded her of the night he had slammed the front door … and of Hamilton.

“Cole,” she said in a soft voice, “you are asking the impossible.”

Coldly, he retorted, “I noticed that you have found enough blunt to buy yourself a new hat! Which household account did you bleed that money from?”

Nerissa stared at him, unsure if she was more shocked by his outburst or that he had noticed her new bonnet. Wanting to soothe him before his face became more choleric, she said, “Cole, the bonnet was a gift from Hamilton to replace the one that was ruined when he nearly ran me down.”

“Lord Windham?” His brows knit together in rage, and he plowed his way through discarded papers to set his map on a shelf high above the mess.

“What is wrong?” she asked to his back. “Surely you know that Hamilton has been calling here.” She almost added that he had spied upon Hamilton and his brother one night, but she did not want to add to his rage.