A Visit From Sir Nicholas (33 page)

"I think it's important for your family to like the man who intends to join their ranks. I especially think it's important for your sons to like the man who plans to be their new father." She ignored him. "The whereabouts of my children was but one of the reasons for my visit here today." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You have cut off my accounts at virtually every merchant I do business with. Do you care to explain why?"

"Not particularly." He shrugged. "However, just as a courtesy, mind you, I will say that I felt it was my duty as the legal administrator of your finances to save you from your own nature." She raised a brow. "My frivolous nature?"

"Not at all. You and I both know the spree of indiscriminate spending you have engaged in in recent days is nothing more than a ploy to prove to me you are not the kind of woman I wish to marry. The woman I think you are, indeed, the woman I know you are now and have always been."

"Ten years ago you called me frivolous."

"I believe we've already established that I was something of a fool ten years ago."

"Still, one never tires of hearing it." She smiled brightly. "Now, about my accounts, I should like everything reestablished at once."

He shook his head. "I think not."

"Cutting off one's accounts at Christmastime is very much something Scrooge would do, you know."

"Probably."

"You have a great deal in common."

"Only in that he was an astute businessman." He swirled the brandy in his glass. "And we are both haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past."

She let the comment pass. She absolutely refused to allow him to distract her from her purpose, nor would she allow her anger to show. He enjoyed it far too much.

"As Christmas is nearly here, I have a great many unavoidable expenditures ahead."

"You should have thought of that."

"I am far and away too frivolous to think of such things." She sauntered over to him, plucked the brandy glass from his fingers, took a sip, and gazed into his eyes. "Nonetheless, my obligations remain." A slight smile played across his lips. "Do they?"

"It has become something of a tradition among the women in my family to hold a tea as Christmas draws near. Tomorrow, I am to host the event. My mother,
the duchess
, will be there, as will my sister, all my aunts, and a fair number of cousins. All together I am expecting nearly thirty ladies to attend."

"It should be most enjoyable," he said mildly.

"It always is. However, my cook, while well able to handle the normal demands of my household…" She paused and gazed up at him. "Did you like the tarts?"

"They were excellent."

"The fruited cakes?"

"Quite tasty."

"The toffee?"

"Adequate."

She raised a brow.

"Only in the sense that I am more fond of baked goods than of candies." Laughter danced in his eyes. "I have always preferred tarts to toffee."

"As do we all," she murmured. "At any rate, she is not up to the task of producing the various treats a special occasion like this requires. Therefore I have chosen, as did my aunt Rebecca last year and my aunt Jocelyn the year before and my sister the year before that, to order a selection of delicacies for tomorrow's tea from Fortnum and Mason. Unfortunately, that's one of the many accounts of mine you have seen fit to close."

"You shall simply have to make do."

"Yes," she sighed, drained the last of his brandy, then put the glass back in his hands. "I suppose I shall, although I daresay the entire party will be ruined."

"You should have considered that as well." He narrowed his gaze. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not entirely certain." She trailed her fingers lightly along the open edge of his pirate shirt. "Flirting, perhaps?"

"I don't think this is merely flirting," he muttered.

"Probably not." She slid her hand slowly up the exposed area of his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"This is not at all what I intended," she murmured, reveling in the way the warmth of his flesh felt beneath her fingers. "I am furious with you, you know."

He swallowed hard. "Yes, well, I rather thought you would be."

She slipped her hand around his neck. "You should know as well that I'm fairly certain my mother,
the
duchess
, won't be at all pleased by a family tradition being ruined. She likes this gathering of her sisters and female relations, and she will not look kindly upon your actions. It could well sour her view of you altogether."

He tossed his glass aside and wrapped his arms around her. "Yet I am equally certain your father," he bent and nuzzled the side of her neck, "
the duke
, as well as your brother," he kissed a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, "
the marquess
will be pleased that I have not allowed you to squander your money in what can only be described as a frivolous manner."

Elizabeth leaned forward to brush her lips across his. "It appears we are at a stalemate."

"Indeed we are."

"I have missed you, Nicholas." She nibbled at his lower lip.

His arms tightened around her. "I have missed you as well."

"I have missed you rather a lot." Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"As have I."

"I am willing to reconsider, oh," she pressed her lips to his in a slow, easy kiss that belied the need swelling within her, "say, one of my conditions."

"Oh?" His lips trailed along the line of her jaw.

Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed with the pleasure of his touch. "You needn't vanish from my life after Christmas."

"How magnanimous of you." His lips whispered against her neck.

"Well?"

"I have no intention of vanishing from your life ever, as I intend to be your husband." She groaned to herself, summoned all her willpower, and pushed out of his arms. "Why do you persist in this?"

"Why do you refuse to so much as consider it?"

"Because I prefer—"

"Yes, yes, you quite like your independence, running your own life, making your own decisions and so on and so forth. I've heard it before, and indeed, although you may think otherwise, I do appreciate your concerns. But I would hope that marriage, or marriage between the two of us, would not necessarily mean that you change your character. I am proposing that our marriage be a partnership of sorts, remember? I have no desire to lock you in a dungeon, keep you for my own pleasure." He paused.

"Although that could be a great deal of fun."

"For one of us."

"Why do you refuse to understand?" His brows drew together in frustration. "Your independent nature, your self-reliance, your intelligence are exactly the attributes that I find so irresistible. I have no desire to change any of that."

"Then why change the very lovely arrangement we could have for as long as we both wish? Why muck it up with marriage?"

"I want to muck it up with marriage."

She raised a brow.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He shook his head. "I've never given much consideration to marriage, but now I find I want it and all it entails. Family, children, and whatever else comes along. And I want it with you. Only you. I want you as my wife and my lover and, God help us both, my partner." He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his arms. "Now and when we are both old and doddering." She stared up at him. It would be so easy to give in and agree to marriage and anything else he wanted. At this very moment, it seemed that life and a future with Nicholas would be nothing short of perfect. But she had had perfect, and it had proved to be nothing more than an illusion. She pulled out of his embrace and moved away. "Some things were not meant to be, Nicholas."

"And some things were." He stepped toward her. "Damn it all, Elizabeth, I was a fool a decade ago, need I pay for it for the rest of my days?"

"Pay for it?"

"I made a mistake ten years ago and now I want to rectify it."

"I am not a mistake to be rectified."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"How did you mean it?"

"I don't know!" He huffed. "I'm not entirely sure what I do or do not know when I am around you. I am not used to having good, solid offers refused. It's extremely disconcerting." He narrowed his gaze. "Most women would jump at the opportunity to marry me, you know. I am wealthy, knighted, and will inherit a respectable title." He stretched his arms in a wide, helpless gesture. "What in the name of all that's holy is wrong with me?"

"Not a thing," she murmured.
Especially not when dressed as a pirate
. She thrust the thought, and the accompanying rush of hot desire, out of her mind.

"Then we need to discuss this rationally."

"Can we?" Was there anything more ridiculous than discussing the subject of marriage with a knight dressed like a pirate? "It's not a business proposition, it's marriage, and it's fraught with emotion."

"Nonetheless, it can be considered in a rational manner."

She bit back a smile. "Benefits versus disadvantages? That sort of thing?"

"Exactly." He clasped his hands behind his back and paced an erratic course around the overstuffed room. "You told me you do not trust me and you do not trust the institution of marriage. I can certainly understand the first part." He glanced at her curiously. "Or have I recovered your trust yet?"

"No." Even as she said the word she knew it wasn't entirely true. How could one not trust a man willing to dress like a pirate and pad his newel post with a pillow for the benefit of one's children? After all, there were far easier ways for a wealthy man to entertain children than by playing with them himself.

"I can accept that for the moment. Very well, I shall have to earn your trust." He studied her curiously.

"Now, why don't you trust marriage itself?"

She considered the question. How could she tell Nicholas, of all people, about the imperfections of her marriage? That she had apparently not been enough to make Charles happy. That they had not shared what her brother had called a grand passion. That her husband might well have found that with another woman.

Still, once, long ago, Nicholas had been the only person in her life outside of her family to understand she was more than she'd appeared. She'd trusted him with the truth of her own nature then. The first step toward trusting him today might well be trusting him with the past. Perhaps it was the warmth she'd already found in his arms or his unexpected kindness to her sons or the way he made her laugh in spite of herself, but at this very moment, she wasn't especially adverse to taking that first step.

"Charles had a mistress," she said simply.

Surprise flashed across his face. "I find that difficult to believe."

"No more so than I," she said wryly. "I frankly had no idea."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Oh, there's no question."

"Did you tell Charles of your suspicions?" he said slowly.

"They were not mere suspicions, Nicholas." She drew a deep breath. The only other person she'd ever told of Charles's infidelity was Jules, and that had been in the immediate wake of Charles's death. Revealing this secret to Nicholas now was far more difficult. "Charles was rather sentimental, and he'd saved this woman's letters. Silly of him, really, and I've often wondered if he didn't want me to find them."

"And you did find them," Nicholas prompted.

"A few days before his death, actually."

"What did Charles say?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "I never had the opportunity to confront him. I was a bit of a coward about it." She paused to gather her thoughts. "The problem with discovering your husband is unfaithful is the myriad of emotions such a discovery unleashes. I was furious, of course."

He nodded. "Understandably."

"And hurt. There was an overwhelming sense of betrayal."

"Yes, of course, there would be."

"Followed by a certain amount of guilt."

"Guilt?" His brow furrowed. "But you said you hadn't had a chance to tell him."

"Not his." She laughed wryly, rather pleased to note she could now see the irony, even the humor, in it.

"Mine."

"Nonsense," he said firmly. "You had no reason to feel guilty. You did nothing wrong."

"Didn't I? I'm not entirely sure of that." She ran her finger idly along the edge of a large, round brass tray balanced on a carved horn base. "I had never questioned the, well,
perfection
of our life together. I had always thought we were both content with our lives. Obviously, when it came to Charles, at least, I was wrong."

"Charles was a fool," Nicholas said quietly.

"Was he? I don't really know." She shook her head. "I don't doubt that he always loved me, but perhaps the kind of love we shared was not," she thought for a moment, "enough, I think. My brother talks about a grand passion."

"A grand madness," Nicholas murmured.

"One and the same, no doubt." She looked at him. "I do wonder if that grand passion, or madness, is what Charles found with this other woman. What he had with her was apparently quite intense and, well," she sighed, "lasting. At least according to her letters."

"Do you know who she was?"

"She signed her letters with nothing more than a term of endearment. I have no idea who she was. It's nothing more than morbid curiosity on my part, mind you, but I would rather like to know her name. It scarcely matters now, of course. Still, I do wonder if knowing who she was might be the one thing that would write 'the end' on the last page of the final chapter of the book of our marriage. It's an odd idea, I know, but she was such an important part of his life." It was surprisingly easy after all to talk to Nicholas about this. As easy as it had once been to talk to him about anything. She drew a deep breath. "The letters span nearly four years."

"Four years?" He stared in disbelief. "But that's—"

"More than half the length of my marriage." She shrugged. "That was perhaps more shocking than anything else."

He studied her for a moment. "You seem to have accepted it rather well."

"Now, I have. It has been three years, after all." Elizabeth uttered a short, disparaging laugh. "You needn't look at me like that. I'm not a saint."