A Visit From Sir Nicholas (31 page)

"Alas," Jonathon heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "I have yet to find the woman of my dreams." He grinned. "Or she has yet to find me."

Nick raised a brow.

"I come from a family of headstrong, clever women. Indeed the Effingtons are known for it. I long thought I wanted a wife who was completely different. A wife who would be biddable and complacent and would make my wants and desires and needs paramount in her life."

"That sounds remarkably—"

"Dull? It is." Jonathon nodded. "To my surprise, I found the appeal of such women was greater in theory than in reality. I cannot abide the thought of spending the rest of my life with a woman who has nothing more in her head than how to be a perfect wife." Jonathon shrugged. "It appears I too want a woman who is something of a challenge."

"Life will certainly never be dull with Elizabeth," Nick murmured.

"The question remains as to how you get to that life. Thus far, the plan consists of"— Jonathon ticked the points off on his fingers— "making it impossible for her to ignore you by closing her accounts."

"Becoming friends with her sons."

"As well as the rest of the family. Telling her how you feel about her." Nick nodded. "How I've always felt."

"Admitting you made an enormous mistake ten years ago—"

"I have admitted my mistake already."

"But did you admit the sheer enormity of it? That this was the biggest mistake you have ever made in your entire life?"

"Perhaps not," Nick murmured.

"Grovel, Nicholas, grovel with enthusiasm and sincerity," Jonathon said firmly. "And finally, you must show her the price she pays for independence."

Nick raised a brow. "Is that all?"

"Probably not, but it is a plan of sorts." Jonathon grinned. "Neither organized nor succinct, but a plan nonetheless." His eyes widened with realization. "I've got it."

"What?"

"What Lizzie loses by being independent."

"Go on."

"Love," Jonathon said with a smug smile. "A grand passion."

"I thought it was a grand madness?"

Jonathon scoffed. "There's little difference between love and madness. Show her you love her, Nicholas, and more, show her she loves you."

"That actually makes a certain amount of sense." Nick stared at his friend. "You're really rather wise when it comes to women."

"No." Jonathon laughed. "Actually, I'm a complete idiot when it comes to women. I have no idea what I'm talking about." He sobered. "But I do know my sister. And I suspect until she accepts her feelings past and present for both you and Charles, and until she accepts that she too made a mistake ten years ago, there can be no future between you."

"That's an all too sobering thought," Nick said quietly. "Elizabeth is a remarkably stubborn woman."

"Still, I'd put your determination up against her stubbornness any day of the week." Nick blew a long sigh."Thank you. That's something, at any rate."

"Don't thank me." Jonathon grinned. "I could be wrong."

Elizabeth swept into the foyer of Nicholas's house the moment Edwards opened the door. Miss Otis trailed a mere step or two behind.

"Where is he?" Elizabeth snapped, noting and disregarding Edwards's odd apparel.

"He, my lady?" Edwards's tone was calm and cool and rational.

"Sir Nicholas. Where—" Elizabeth started and stared at the butler. Miss Otis's eyes widened, and her mouth opened to form a perfect O.

Edwards stared back blandly, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. As if he hadn't forsaken the usual reserved attire required of a butler for clothing of a more bizarre nature. He wore no coat but instead sported a gold brocade waistcoat that reached to his knee in a style that had not been seen for more than a century. The sleeves or his white shirt were overly full, with a touch of lace at the wrists. He wore tall, loose-fitting boots, deeply cuffed, and if Elizabeth hadn't known better, she could have sworn that was a discarded eye patch hanging loosely about the butler's neck. At his waist—

"What is that?" Elizabeth pointed a shaky finger. "Surely that's not a sword?"

"Indeed it is, my lady," Edwards said without so much as a blink to indicate that wearing a sword was the least bit unusual for a servant in modern-day London.

"He looks like a blooming pirate, my lady," Miss Otis said, awe or perhaps shock coloring her voice.

"An aging pirate," Elizabeth said sharply.

Edwards's brow twitched.

Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. "What precisely is going on, Edwards, and where are my children?"

"His name, at the moment, is
Mr
. Edwards. First mate to the Pirate King." Nicholas's voice sounded from the shadows at the top of the stairs. "And I…"

Elizabeth looked up, her mouth dropped open.

Nicholas slid halfway down the curved banister on one hip, then leapt over the side of the railing and dropped a good four feet to land with a flourish lightly in front of her. "Am the Pirate King." He whipped a wide-brimmed, feather-plumed hat from his head and swept an exaggerated bow. "And I am at your service."

"Your Majesty," Miss Otis breathed and dropped a curtsy.

"He's not a Pirate King," Elizabeth snapped.

"He looks like a Pirate King," Miss Otis murmured.

"Thank you," Edwards said.

"Well, he's not." Elizabeth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. "He's a madman."

"But you must admit, I do look like a Pirate King." Nicholas smirked. "And a handsome devil at that." He did indeed look most impressive in a fanciful sort of way. His coat was as ancient as Edwards's, cut long down to his knees, of a slightly faded blue, embellished with gold trim and rows of gold buttons. The shirt beneath was opened halfway to his waist. His trousers were tucked into boots similar to Edwards's and he, too, had a sword at his waist. He looked every bit like a pirate who had just stepped from a storybook, and admittedly, the style suited him. He was indeed a handsome devil, and Elizabeth had always been rather partial to the idea of handsome, devilish pirates. She steeled herself against the most annoying impulse to throw herself into his arms and ignored the realization of how much she had missed him.

"I will concede the devil part of that statement." She waved the note she had clutched in her hand. "Now explain this."

He plucked it from her hand and scanned the brief lines. "It appears to be an invitation."

"You know full well it's an invitation. It's from you." She snatched it out of his hands and glanced at it.

"Dated three days ago and addressed to Viscount Langley and the Honorable Adam Langley. For the purpose of tea and exploration. '
Tea and exploration'
?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Admittedly they preferred a rather sweet fruit drink my cook concocted to the tea." Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. "And the exploration?"

"Look around you, Elizabeth." Nicholas gestured in a grand manner, ridiculous hat still in hand. "Have you ever seen a house more suited to exploration by young boys?"

Elizabeth glared. "Miss Otis informs me the boys have spent the last three afternoons here while I have been out."

"I am truly sorry, my lady," Miss Otis said quickly. "Sir Nicholas came to the house in the company of your brother. His lordship—your brother—swore their visits were appropriate as Sir Nicholas is their financial guardian and—"

"Yes, yes, I know, Miss Otis, you have explained it to me once already. I shall deal with my brother later." Elizabeth waved away her comment and turned to Nicholas. "As for you, you have a great deal of explaining to do about another matter that has come to my attention, but first I demand you hand over my children. At once."

"Children?" Nicholas drew his brows together. "Have you seen any children, Mr. Edwards?"

"No, Your Majesty," Edwards said in a level voice. "Only the Queen's men." Nicholas gasped in mock horror. "The Queen's men!" He glanced from side to side quickly, as if the aforementioned Queen's men would burst into the foyer at any minute. "Aye, they are hot on our heels."

"Nicholas!" The man was definitely insane and, if she hadn't been so angry, possibly a touch amusing.

"What say you, Mr. Edwards?" Nicholas spun his hat through the air to Edwards, who caught it without effort. "Do we make a run for it? Or," his gaze slid from Elizabeth to Miss Otis and back, "do we take hostages?"

"Hostages I should think, sir," Edwards said coolly.

"My thoughts exactly. I'll take this one, you take the other." Nicholas grabbed Elizabeth's hand, spun her into his arms, and locked her tight against his side. "Aye, this one's a beauty."

"If you take so much as one step toward me, Mr. Edwards, I shall be forced to retaliate." Miss Otis raised her chin and glared at the pirate butler, who had not moved an inch. "I have brothers and I am well used to dealing with them. It will be difficult to use that sword of yours if you're doubled over clutching your—"

"Miss Otis, that's quite enough. I'm certain Edwards has no intention of taking you hostage or anything else." She glared at Nicholas. "Tell her."

" Tis true, lass." Nicholas directed his words at Miss Otis, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Elizabeth. "I fear ye will not fetch the price of her ladyship."

Miss Otis sputtered. "Well, I daresay."

"Aye." Nicholas tightened his grip and stared into Elizabeth's eyes. "This one will do. She's a comely wench, she is."

"I am not!" Elizabeth snapped, struggling to keep the reason for her presence in the first place foremost in her mind. And struggling as well to disregard how very exciting it was to be in his arms again and to ignore the impulse to banish Edwards and Miss Otis from the house and play, just for a moment or two, Pirate King and comely wench. "A wench, that is. Now unhand me."

"Ah, my lady, you are now the hostage of the Pirate King." He flashed her a wicked grin. "Enjoy it."

"I most certainly will not enjoy it! Release me at once. Your blasted sword is poking into me." Before she knew it he had bent her backwards in his arms and she was forced to cling to him or fall. She stared up at him and he leaned closer. "It's not my sword."

She sucked in a shocked breath. "Nicholas! Release me this very moment or I shall—"