A Visit From Sir Nicholas (29 page)

"Women marry for security, social and financial. I already have that. As for marriage itself," she smiled, "I don't trust it as an institution and I don't trust you."

His brows drew together. "Why not?"

"Ah, Nicholas." She brushed her lips across his. "You very nearly broke my heart ten years ago and I shall not let that happen again." She pulled out of his arms and put on her gloves. "However, I really should thank you."

"For what?" he said suspiciously.

"As much as I value my independence, and while I have enjoyed managing my own financial affairs, it has not been easy." She favored him with her brightest smile. "I shall send over my accounting books and files this very morning and forward all bills and any other pertinent papers the moment they arrive."

"There's no need—"

"There's every need, especially as we will not be sharing a bed after all." She glanced down at his bare toes and slowly raised her gaze in a long perusal of his various attributes, precisely the way he had cast his gaze over her last night, until her eyes met his. Clearly he was most discomfited being on the receiving end of such a study. Good.

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "It is something of a pity but it cannot be helped, I suppose, although I confess, I will never be able to face half-past-two again without a rather warm feeling of—"

"Elizabeth!" His eyes widened in shock.

"—affection, Nicholas." She widened her eyes innocently. "I was simply going to say affection. The type of affection one feels for a friend. A very special friend." She fluttered her lashes in a wicked manner.

"Elizabeth!"

"The more I think about it, the more I think it shall really be something of a relief not having to worry about accounts and tenants and crops and everything else. I might well enjoy being a lady of more leisurely pursuits again. Indeed, I might even revert to some of my more frivolous ways." She pulled open the door.

"What do you mean?" he said slowly.

"This does seem to be a continuing problem between us. Neither of us quite understanding what the other has said. I thought I was clear, but perhaps not." She stepped through the open door and glanced back at him. "Dear Nicholas, as it's more than likely impossible to beat you in this game you do seem to so enjoy playing, I shall join you."

"What?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

"And I shall have a great deal of fun in the process." She flashed him a brilliant smile and shut the door firmly in his face. And tried very hard not to laugh aloud.

Elizabeth sailed down the steps and walked briskly along the walk toward her own door. There was no one about at this hour, but even if there had been she didn't particularly care about her reputation at the moment.

She had quite turned the tables on Nicholas Collingsworth. Certainly he was in charge of her finances, but, in point of fact, there was nothing she could do to prevent that anyway. And perhaps he had given her the very weapon to use against him.

While her records were meticulous, and every transaction was documented on paper, she also kept a running calculation in her head of exactly what she had down to the very last penny. She had never doubted her own intelligence, but this was a gift she had not suspected until she'd started managing her own affairs, and it had thus far served her well. Right now she knew precisely what was available for the sole purpose of persuading Nicholas to abandon the idea of marriage, at least to her. Partnership. Hah!

Her door opened at her approach and she stepped inside. Although she had returned home late on occasion, she had never been out all night before. Still, her butler didn't so much as raise a brow at her untimely appearance. Hammond was exceptionally well trained. She murmured a greeting, handed him her cloak and gloves, and started up the stairs.

Nicholas, of all people, should well understand why she wasn't interested in marriage. He valued his independence, indeed he had always followed his own path. Why shouldn't she value hers as well?

Simply because she was a woman? Nonsense. A woman ran the country. Why couldn't a woman run her own life?

Certainly, Elizabeth might be willing to give up the condition about not seeing him again after Christmas. Indeed following last night, she rather liked the idea of continuing their arrangement well into the future.
I
want your heart, your love, and I want you as my wife
.

Her step slowed. He wanted her love? Did he truly mean that, or was it just something to say that he thought might sway her position? Love was an entirely separate issue from marriage. She had spent ten years firmly believing she hadn't loved Nicholas. Even now she refused to consider the possibility that she'd been wrong. If she'd been wrong about loving Nicholas, then perhaps she'd been wrong about loving Charles as well. And if she'd been wrong not to follow Nicholas in spite of his words, had her marriage been a mistake as well?

Had she married the wrong man? Married the man who probably should never have been more than a dear friend while she'd allowed the grand passion of her life to slip away?

No, of course not. She pushed the thought aside. It was an absurd idea. Why, it would mean much of her life had been based on a lie. A pleasant, comfortable lie, but a lie nonetheless. And that she could never accept.

This was precisely why she was willing to share Nicholas's bed for a time but not his life. Never his life. It would be best for all concerned and much, much easier if they simply had a passionate liaison, sated their respective desires, then went their separate ways. Prurient desire and unbridled lust and nothing more than that.

Elizabeth didn't love Nicholas then and she refused to love him now. Loving him would beg the question of whether she loved him again.

Or worse.

Loved him still.

"Have you spoken to your sister of late?" Nick said, his gaze fixed firmly on the bills and receipts piled on the desk before him.

"What? No 'Good day to you, Jonathon'? No 'Felicitations of the season, your lordship'? No thank you for forgoing your own concerns and rushing over here in response to my urgent message?"

"Good day to you, Jonathon. Felicitations of the season, your lordship. Thank you for forgoing your own concerns and rushing over here in response to my urgent message." Nick glanced up. "Have you spoken to your sister?"

"My sister? The sister who lives one door down?" Jonathon grinned and lounged against the doorframe.

"I suspect there is an interesting tale to tell about your acquisition of this house and the purpose behind the purchase."

"It's a good location and a good investment," Nick murmured.

"Yes, I thought that was it."

Nick ignored him. "Your sister is apparently avoiding me in hopes that I shall vanish from the face of the earth. However, if you have spoken—"

"I haven't seen Lizzie since your uncle's party, and that"—Jonathon stopped in his tracks— "was four days ago." An odd sort of stunned expression appeared on his face.

In spite of his current foul mood, Nick grinned. He suspected that very same look had crossed his face upon stepping over the threshold to this room. "It's quite impressive, isn't it?"

"Impressive is not exactly the word I would use." Jonathon straightened and stared.

"I believe it was originally intended to be a library." Nick glanced around ruefully. "It has shelves at any rate and a fair amount of books."

"One almost feels sorry for the books. Being so outnumbered, that is." Jonathon stepped cautiously into the room, under an arch formed by the crossed spears of two larger-than-life Nubian statues. Lord Halstrom's library was as packed as every other room in the house, perhaps more so. Indeed, the chamber seemed to have become a repository for all manner of bizarre items the old gentleman had not been able to squeeze into another room.

Jonathon made his way toward Nick, maneuvering around a large armillary mounted on a marble column and several ancient urns, to a nearly as ancient overstuffed armchair wedged in a clearing in front or Nick's desk. Jonathon settled gingerly in the chair and spotted a plate of fruit tarts perched on what appeared to serve as a table but looked suspiciously like the dried leg of an elephant. "May I?"

"Be my guest. Take them all if you'd like."

"I would, but that would be rude." Jonathon selected a tart. "I love tarts."

"It obviously runs in the family," Nick muttered.

Jonathon took a large bite, appreciation widening his eyes. "Nothing like a good tart to put a man right with the world, and these are superb. Your cook is to be commended."

"My cook had nothing to do with them. Your sister sent them."

"Lizzie?" Jonathon turned the tart suspiciously. "Are they poisoned?"

"We shall see, won't we?" Nick said wryly.

"Death by tarts?" Jonathon studied the tart, then shrugged and took another bite. "It's not a bad way to go, I suppose. With sugar on your lips and the taste of cherry on your tongue. Rather thoughtful of Lizzie really, especially as she is ignoring you."

"It's a message." Nick narrowed his gaze at the tarts as if they truly were lethal. "It started with sugar plums. Next it was butterscotch. Yesterday, toffee, and now tarts."

"What precisely is she trying to say?" Jonathon popped the rest of the pastry in his mouth.

"She's trying to show me what I am missing."

"Well, you needn't miss anything," Jonathon said, taking another pastry. "There are plenty of tarts."

"Tarts are not the problem. These are the problem." Nick waved impatiently at the papers before him.

"Bills run up by your sister in the past few days. Extravagant, silly purchases for the most part."

"Don't be absurd." Jonathon scoffed. "While she's not especially frugal, I have never known her to be the least bit extravagant or silly in her purchasing."

"She is now. Look at these." Nick rifled through the receipts. "There are charges here from jewelers, milliners, dressmakers, antiquities dealers, cabinet makers." He pawed through the papers. "It appears she's commissioned an entirely new wardrobe. And here." He picked up a paper and waved it. "She's ordered two new carriages as well. Two!"