Innocence Lost (11 page)

"You look tired, sweet. Shall we leave?” Julian asked after dozens of introductions.

She halted mid-yawn. “I'm sorry."

His eyes softened. “Don't apologize, Moppet. Michael, we must take our leave."

The earl's face fell. “So soon?"

"My sister is not used to keeping such late hours."

"I understand. However, I have one request before you go. Could I be permitted the first dance at Huntington's masque?"

"Why, Michael,” Julian joked, “I could not possibly accept. No doubt, you'd step all over my toes."

She smothered a laugh.

With a chuckle, her brother turned to her. “What do you think, Moppet? Do you want to dance with this old cad?"

"It would be a pleasure, Lord Bentwood,” she answered, then smiled.

His frown melted into a saucy grin. “Believe me, Lady Westland, the pleasure will be entirely mine,” he said, and bade them farewell.

Thank goodness Julian had decided to return her home instead of having dinner at the opulent hotel. How did these people keep such late hours? Then she recalled that they usually didn't rise until after noon. She shook her head. Mornings were the best time of day.

The horses trotted along the cobblestones in a soothing rhythm. She relaxed against the seat and closed her eyes. What a long day. The clip-clop and gentle sway of the carriage lulled her to sleep. Sounds fell away.

The coachman shouted out. The horses whinnied in fright and surged forward in an uncontrolled frenzy through the streets.

She screamed in alarm and fell against the back of the carriage. A loud buzz sounded in her ears. Julian helped her straighten, and she nodded when he asked if she were unharmed. The vehicle jostled dangerously, and her fear mounted. Julian tightened his grip on her with one hand, and grabbed the leather strap above the window with the other. She glanced out. The lit street lamps sped by, almost blurring together. Dear God, they were going to crash!

Just as her brother released her and started to crawl out of the window, a lone rider pulled alongside the horses. The man leaned over and managed to grab the reins. He spoke soothingly to the animals until they slowed, then stopped.

Julian opened the carriage door with a bang and flew out. “Are you all right, Megan?"

She pressed a hand to her thundering heart and nodded.

He helped her down. She followed her brother toward their savior as the man dismounted.

"My most heartfelt thanks, sir. How may I repay you? Just name the price, and it is yours,” Julian said to the gentleman's back.

The man turned slowly and said, “Permission to marry your sister will do quite nicely."

"Nicholas,” she gasped, relieved beyond measure to see him standing there.

He stepped forward, his brows drawn. “Are you all right, love?” he asked, cupping her cheek in the palm of his right hand.

She wanted to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.

"Take your bloody hands off of my sister, Claremont."

Nicholas lifted his head, anger building in his eyes. She took a quick step back so his hand fell away.

A groan sounded from the driver's seat of the carriage. Julian turned and scrambled up to the seat. “Perkins, are you all right? My God, you're bleeding, man."

"Bleeding?” she repeated. “How bad is it, Julian?"

"He's got a nasty wound on his head. Can you hear me, Perkins?"

Nicholas climbed the other side. “Grab him carefully under the arms, Julian,” he directed, lifting Perkins by the legs. “Now let's get him down."

They lowered the injured coachman to the ground, and she swallowed at the sight of so much blood covering the man's face.

The poor fellow winced. “Just be still, you'll be all right,” Julian said.

Julian removed his handkerchief and placed it over the man's injury, but blood quickly drenched the fabric. She gripped her hands together. As her brother reached into his pocket for another handkerchief, Nicholas held out a pristine piece of white linen. “Here, use this,” he said. “I'll fetch a doctor."

He turned to her, his eyes troubled. “Will you be all right?"

"Yes. Now do hurry. Perkins looks dreadful,” she replied in a hushed tone so that the man wouldn't hear her. But as she glanced back at the dear old coachman, she noticed that he had already lost consciousness.

Nicholas gave a curt nod, then jumped onto his horse.

Megan watched him leave. Nicholas had saved them. She drew her shawl tightly around her shoulders. He had risked his own life for theirs. Her heart flooded with joy. Nicholas had saved her and Julian and Perkins.

But how did he just happen on them like that? That meant Nicholas had been following them. But why? Her heart leaped. Could he actually care about her?

She looked back in the direction he had gone.
Please, let the answer be yes.

After assisting Julian with the injured servant, Nicholas glanced around the hall, wondering where Megan had gone. He had to see her again, to try and convince her that—

"Go home now, Claremont,” Julian said, joining him in the hallway.

"No. We need to discuss my betrothal to Megan. I am most serious about marrying her."

Julian stood silent for a moment, his silver-grey eyes assessing, calculating. “We shall discuss this in the study."

Nicholas followed Julian into the room. Settling into the butter-soft leather, he watched his former friend take the seat behind the desk. What was the man up to?

"I know not what sort of callous game you're playing with my sister, Claremont, but I do not like it,” Julian snarled into the silence.

Nicholas splayed his hands on the polished desk and leaned forward. Looking steadily into those hostile eyes, he said, “This is no game, Julian. I mean to marry her."

"The hell you say. Perhaps you mean to commit to a betrothal, then leave her at the altar once your wedding day arrives,” Julian said, his voice rising. “Or, more accurately, you wish to get her with child, then leave her like you thought I did years ago to Emily Wakefield."

He balled his hands into fists. “Damn you, Julian, is it so difficult to believe that this has nothing whatever to do with Emily?” He took a deep breath, reining in the fury trying to overtake him, and lowered his voice. “This is not some sort of game or plan for revenge."

Julian did not respond for several minutes. Nicholas could read nothing in the man's expression but anger. Finally, Julian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “From what I have learned tonight, Megan will have no difficulty finding a husband. In fact, there were seven offers this evening alone."

It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to rise up out of his chair and lunge across the desk. “Curse your black soul, Julian. You cannot do this,” he said.

Julian's brow cocked up. “I daresay I can, Claremont. I am her guardian. Megan hasn't given me any indication she wishes to marry you."

As Nicholas listened, his grip tightened on the chair arms.

"In fact,” the scoundrel continued, his lips pulling into a grin, “I think Bentwood has captured her attention."

A bloody lie,
Nicholas thought.

Julian leaned back in his chair. Nicholas caught a glimpse of disappointment. So, that was the bastard's game. Nicholas relaxed, his fingers throbbing from having dug into the leather so long. Julian had wanted him to lunge forward, had been waiting for him. Well, he'd restrain the urge to rearrange Julian's face even if it killed him.

"I have an idea. One that may solve everything,” Julian said.

"I'm listening,” he prompted.

"Leave Megan completely alone until she decides on a husband."

"What?” he roared. He could no more stop the sun from rising in the morn.

"You heard me. Do not attempt to see or talk to her, by any means. And if the two of you were meant to be together, you will."

"If I do stay away from her, and she chooses to marry me, you will allow it?"

"Yes.” Julian answered with reluctance, as if it pained him.

"There is something else.” He leaned forward. He would walk the fires of hell if it meant he could marry Megan, but this agreement had to be fair.

"And what would that be?"

"Quit trying to turn her against me,” he bellowed.

"I've only spoken the truth to her."

He grunted. “No, just what you believe is the truth. You must allow her to discern things for herself."

After several seconds of silent deliberation, Julian nodded. “Now, do you agree to these terms?"

"Not just yet, Amersleigh.” He frantically worked his mind for any advantages.

Julian heaved a sigh. “Now what?"

He chewed his lip.
Think, man, think.
His heart knocked so hard against his chest that he could hardly form a thought. “If she desires to see me, I will not refuse her,” he said.

After a lengthy hesitation, Julian said, “Fine, but she is to know nothing at all of this agreement, or it is ended. I wish to be certain her decision is genuine. Do we have an understanding?"

The door opened and Megan walked into the room, stemming Julian's words. Nicholas rose from his chair and feasted his eyes on her loveliness, wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. What was it about this young woman that he could not live without?

"I thought you had retired for the evening, Megan,” Julian said.

Megan's heart quivered at the sight of Nicholas standing there dressed in evening black, looking far more handsome that he ought. Those intense feelings she'd harbored for him since finding his portrait all those years ago rushed back. Forcing her gaze away, she turned to her brother, realizing that he and Nicholas had been speaking without exchanging a round of punches. Incredible. Then she recalled her brother's words. “I was assisting Dr. Kellerman."

"How is Perkins?” her brother asked, rounding the desk to stand before her.

She cleared her throat, suddenly gone dry. “He needed to be stitched, but is doing much better."

"Did he regain consciousness? Was he able to explain what had happened?"

"Perkins said a man darted across the road, scaring the horses. When they reared up, he hit his head."

"A man? Did Perkins recognize him?"

"No. It was too dark,” Megan said.

Nicholas stepped forward. “Lady Megan, may I have a word with you?"

She opened her mouth, but Julian answered first. “No, Claremont, you may not. Now leave here before I have you forcefully removed."

Nicholas took another step forward, his blue eyes snapping with fury.

Megan's heart thundered with alarm. She eased into the narrow distance separating the two men. “Cease this madness, both of you.” She turned to Nicholas. “I think it would be best if you left now."

He lowered his gaze, the rage subsiding from his features. “Please, I must speak with you first, Meg,” he implored softly. “It is important."

"I won't have it, Claremont,” her brother barked.

Noticing a glimmer in Nicholas's eyes, something almost beseeching, she turned to her brother. “Give us a few minutes to talk, Jules."

Julian threw up his hands. “All right, a few minutes. But that is all.” He glanced over her head and addressed Nicholas. “And you will not lay one finger on my sister. I will be right outside that door. All she has to do is make one questionable sound and I'll be on you in a trice.” He strode from the room with military stiffness.

Warily, she turned back to Nicholas.

"Thank you, Meg,” he said, moving toward her.

She took a step back to distance her body from his. “Whatever you have to say, do it fast,” she said as her bottom hit against the desk.

"I wish you to be my wife.” He advanced another step so that he stood mere inches from her. “We must marry."

"That is close enough,” she snapped.

Must. He didn't want to marry her. He merely felt obligated. Oh, God, why couldn't he love her? She wanted that above anything. But his cold arrangement had nothing to do with love. She squared her shoulders. “So,” she sneered, trying to bury her pain, “your proposal has changed from mistress to wife?"

He jerked back as though he'd been struck. “Megan, I have apologized. What more can I do? Name anything and it shall be done."

Just love me as much as I love you.
Her gaze skidded away to focus on the leather-bound books behind him. “There is nothing you can do."

"Will you at least allow me to try?” He paused to graze her cheek with his fingertips. “Say you'll marry me, Meg,” he insisted.

As his warm skin sent tingling sparks through her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach, confusion enveloped her. She wanted desperately to take what he offered, but she held back. Being a duchess meant being the perfect lady, like her mother. Megan was not the perfect lady. She was anything but the perfect lady.

The door crashed open, jarring Megan from the spell Nicholas had woven around her. “Good night, Claremont,” Julian said.

"Let me know what you decide.” Nicholas held her gaze for a moment, then spun around and was gone.

Megan stared at the empty doorway for several seconds. Could it be possible he truly wanted to marry her, even with all her faults? She bit her lip, tamping back her soaring hopes. Nicholas's future words and actions would reveal his true feelings. And since she knew with last week's menses that she didn't carry his child, there was no rush to the altar.

There was plenty of time for him to prove the sincerity of his proposal. If, indeed, he was sincere at all.

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One week after the carriage incident, Megan plodded into the dining room. She'd had another sleepless night, identical to the six before. Not even the beautiful new gowns that arrived daily from the fashion house had improved her mood. And it was all Nicholas's fault, curse him.

Just seven short days ago, he'd been adamant about her becoming his wife, and now...nothing. She hadn't heard one blasted word from the man. He hadn't even bothered to pen a note.

She sighed and moved to the sideboard. Without filling her plate from the extensive fare offered, she poured a cup of tea from the silver pot and sat in her chair. Unaware of Julian's steel-grey eyes watching her from above his paper, she wrapped her chilled hands around the hot teacup and stared into the dark, steamy liquid.