A Visit From Sir Nicholas (13 page)

He gasped in feigned dismay. "You wound me deeply, dear sister."

"I would certainly like to." She huffed with exasperation. "If your ability to keep secrets is any indication as to how well you will perform when you inherit father's title, you will certainly make an excellent duke." She pulled open the door. "If you are permitted to live that long." His laugh trailed after her. "It should be an interesting Christmas, Lady Langley." Christmas was the last thing she wanted to think about at the moment. It would be her fourth as a widow, and in the years since Charles's death, in spite of her resolve, each had been more difficult than the last.

In the foyer, Elizabeth called for her maid, requested her carriage to be summoned, and tried to be as pleasant as possible. Given the myriad of thoughts churning in her head, it was not an easy task. When Charles had been alive, it had been easy to push aside all thoughts of the last time she'd seen Nicholas. Besides, he'd been very far away and therefore easy to ignore. But since Charles's death it had been increasingly difficult to disregard the memories that nagged at the back of her mind at every Effington Christmas Ball or surfaced unbidden whenever
A Christmas Carol
was read aloud. Increasingly difficult not to wonder what her life might have been like if she had not chosen the comfort and security and unquestioned affection of one man over the adventure and excitement and, yes, uncertainty of another, even if Nicholas had essentially given her no real choice. She'd told herself that night and in the ten years since she hadn't really cared for him at all.

What if she'd been wrong? Then and now?

What if he'd been wrong?

How much more difficult would those memories and those doubts be to ignore with Nicholas back?

Nonsense, she hadn't been wrong. She would not permit herself to consider otherwise. Besides, it scarcely mattered now. She wanted nothing to do with him, and no doubt he wanted nothing to do with her as well. If she could not find a legal means of escape, there was always the possibility Jonathon was right. Nicholas might well jump at the chance to relieve himself of a responsibility he had never asked for.

And if he didn't?

She would be compelled to do whatever possible to make his life a living hell. She had no idea how to make a man's life a living hell, but surely it couldn't be all that difficult. However, the details were of no significance at the moment.

She raised her chin and cast a brilliant smile at the footman holding open the door. She was, after all, the Viscountess Langley, who successfully handled her own finances, and the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough, and surely blood would tell. Her father wrote bad poetry and her mother wrote novels of romance and adventure, and no doubt some of that vast reservoir of creativity surged through her veins as well. When the time came she would come up with a plan.

Nicholas Collingsworth hadn't the faintest idea what he was about to face. Lizzie Effington was now Elizabeth Langley.

And Elizabeth Langley was a force to be reckoned with.

"Everything appears in order." Nick scanned the final page in the ledger book but, after having assessed the entries leading to this point, was more than confident everything was in perfect order. "Charles's assets have not merely been maintained but his investments have grown substantially." Nick flipped the book closed and glanced up at Jonathon, who stood before the desk in the Effington House library with a distinct air of good-natured innocence and a brandy in each hand. In their youth, Jonathon had never been as innocent as his appearance, and Nick suspected even the advance of years had not changed that. The fact that his friend adopted just such a manner now did not bode well.

"In addition, I found nothing amiss in the household accounts nor for the estate. Indeed, there have been a number of improvements made that are quite progressive and have proved most beneficial. You've done an excellent job."

"While I do do an excellent job in many things"—Jonathon handed Nick a glass and sat down to face his friend across the desk—"I cannot take the credit for this."

"Don't be modest." Nick leaned back in his chair and sipped the liquor. The duke's fine brandy was as good as always. Yet another thing that had not changed with the passing of years. "I know the increase of one's fortune or, God forbid, the earning of money is frowned upon, but you should be proud. Obviously, you have inherited your father's skills at investment."

While it was certainly not public knowledge, Nick was well aware that the Duke of Roxbor-ough had dabbled in various investments including real estate and publishing for much of his adult years and had, for the most part, been quite successful. In an age in which many of the long-held fortunes of the landed gentry had dwindled, Effington wealth had increased.

"Indeed, I have. I have turned a tidy profit in several successful ventures, and I am most immodestly proud of those. And while I'm also proud of the brilliant handling of Charles's fortune as well—" Nick laughed. "Brilliant?"

"Brilliant," Jonathon said firmly. "The fact remains that it is not my doing."

"No? Your father's then?"

"Elizabeth has handled everything herself." Jonathon's expression was decidedly smug.

"I see," Nick said slowly, not that he was surprised. The surprising aspect of all this was that Charles had appointed someone to manage his affairs in the first place instead of leaving them in his wife's eminently capable hands.

"And I see no reason why she should not continue to do so."

"Nor do I." Nick studied his friend for a long moment. "Nor do I see any reason why I should have received from you a letter implying all was not well with Lady Langley's finances."

"Lady Langley?" Jonathon raised a questioning brow.

"Lady Langley," Nick said, ignoring Jonathon's unspoken question. He had absolutely no intention of having anything other than a cursory, businesslike relationship with Jonathon's sister. Charles's wife. Lady Langley. Calling her—indeed, thinking of her—by anything other than her title was starting down a path he refused to tread. "And you have not answered my question."

"I know." Jonathon grinned and raised his glass in a salute. "I'm very good at evading questions. Indeed, I consider it a gift I have honed to a fine art."

Nick tried not to smile and failed. Jonathon too had scarcely changed with the passage of years.

"And, as impressive as that skill is, I still want to know why the letter you wrote me carried the vague, but no less unmistakable, message that something was amiss with Lady Langley's finances."

"I thought it was time you came home for something longer than a mere visit," Jonathon said simply. It was Nick's turn to raise a brow. "And you took it upon yourself to make certain I did so?"

"Someone had to. Why not me?"

"Perhaps I was not ready to return."

"Perhaps you were simply too stubborn to return." Jonathon cast him a pleasant smile.

"Stubborn?" Nick gasped in feigned indignation. "Me?"

"You've always been stubborn and you well know it. Besides, you could have come home and stayed four years ago when you were knighted. By my observations, that's approximately when you had more money than Croesus and your accomplishments publicly acknowledged. That, old friend, is when you had achieved all you had set out to achieve."

"You seem overly aware of my success." Nick wasn't entirely sure if he was annoyed or flattered.

"Your uncle took it upon himself to make certain we were all aware of your accomplishments. Besides, it's difficult to hide a knighthood even if you did not remain in London long enough for your friends to applaud your success. I know I probably mentioned it in a letter, but I should add my congratulations in person."

"Thank you," Nick murmured, pushing aside a touch of guilt at his elusive behavior on his last visit.

"Beyond that, as I had my own investments, I could not fail to note the success of yours. You will find I have followed your lead and hold stock in several of the same areas you have shown an interest in, including," Jonathon grinned, "your steamship line."

"Are you serious?" Nick stared in amused disbelief.

"Wickedly clever of you, I thought, to use the new docks at Southampton rather than London, what with the convenience of the railway lines and all."

"Ships are getting bigger," Nick murmured, then shook his head. "Surely I would have noticed if you were among my investors."

"You have always been far more aware of obstacles in your path than anything or anyone trailing along behind you."

"Even so, I would have noted your name on the lists of stockholders."

"Not if I used another name." Jonathon got to his feet and offered his hand to Nick. "May I introduce Mr. J. E. Shelton."

"You are J.E. Shelton?"

"At your service."

"You are a devil, Jonathon." Nick stood and clasped his friend's hand. Mr. J. E. Shelton's share of stocks in Nick's company was indeed substantial, and Nick had long wondered about the man. Since the purchases had been made through brokers and solicitors, Nick had been unable to track down the mysterious Mr. Shelton and had finally abandoned the quest, in part because he had had other matters to attend to, but primarily because his investor had shown no interest in the company beyond the income his shares produced.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why keep your identity secret?"

"You might well have refused my investment. All that making your fortune on your own nonsense. You accomplished that, you know, and made me remarkably wealthy in the process." Jonathon chuckled.

"And I am most appreciative."

"Glad I could be of assistance. Now." Nick met Jonathon's gaze directly. "Why did you lure me home?"

"I wouldn't say I lured you. Do give me some credit, after all. If I had wished to lure you, I wouldn't have been nearly as subtle as I was. All I did was remind you of the responsibilities placed upon you by Charles's will. I was very careful on that score not to go too far. You read into it exactly what you wished, and what you wished was to come home. I simply provided the impetus." Jonathon shrugged in an all too satisfied manner. "Nothing more than that."