Son of a Duke (23 page)

Alec left the room with a still fuming Sarah trailing after him.
 
Nora imagined the conversation that was likely occurring between the pair just then.
 
Nathan stood and so did Nora.
 

"Jane, a moment, please?" Richard said, and Jane set down her tea as she stood.
 

"Of course," she said, turning to Nora, "Excuse us, dear."
 

Richard and Jane left the room leaving Nora quite alone with Mr. Nathan Black.
 

~

Nora did not know what to do with her hands.
 
Or her tea.
 
Or her breath.
 

Everything felt suddenly awkward when moments before she had been feeling nothing but physical tension as her mind wandered over and over again to her son.
 

"Did you truly hit some bloke over the head with a bottle of champagne?" Nathan asked, sitting beside her on the sofa.
 

She turned and at the quizzical look on his face, Nora felt the sudden awkwardness melt from her.
 
She may have had her hair done by a lady's maid, and she may be wearing a countess's gown, but she was still Nora, and this was still Nathan.
 
Everything seemed a little bit more all right with Nathan.
 

She nodded.

"I did.
 
A big bottle at that," she shrugged, "I just thought it lucky that I decided to come above stairs by way of the east wing that night, or I never would have come upon them in the green drawing room."

She paused as the memory of that night came up in her mind.
 
She had not really been thinking so much as reacting.
 
The noises that had been coming from the green drawing room in the east wing of Gregenden House had sounded frighteningly familiar.
 
Familiar in a way Nora never cared to remember or have reason to hear again.
 
The sounds of a struggle and muffled pleas for help in a soft, feminine contralto with just the slightest of Irish accents.
 
It took but a moment for Nora to realize what was happening in the room, for her to turn her course, enter the drawing room and smash the bottle of drink over the grunting man's head.
 
She had not even known who the man was at the time.
 
She had only seen the young maid's face as she lay pinned on the sofa in the room.
 
Her skirts thrown up and the pale skin of her thighs exposed above the top of her stockings a beacon in the dim light of the room.
 
And then there was the girl's face.
 
Drawn with fright, her eyes were mere pools of despair.
 
And so, Nora had reacted more than anything, a primal urge within her for justice swinging her arm up and landing the champagne bottle directly on the man's head.
 
He had collapsed with a grunt, and it took both of them to free the poor girl trapped beneath his body.
 
One such occasion in her life had been enough, but having a second chance to escape a room with one's skirts solidly held to one's legs was more than enough for Nora.

She watched Nathan, and she knew he wanted to ask her something.
 
She saw the way his jaw tightened, and a muscle in his eyelid jumped as he tried to decide whether or not he would ask it.
 
Nora admired him more then than ever before for his consideration and subsequent restraint.
 
She waited another breath before she saved him from his own propriety.
 

"Yes," she heard herself say, but her mind did not believe she was actually speaking of the one thing she swore never to speak of again, "Yes, that is what happened to me.
 
Only there was no one with a bottle of champagne to save me in time."

Her words were simple, but it had taken all of her courage to say them.
 
Not once in nearly ten years had she so much as whispered a hint to someone about how Samuel had come to be in this world, and now she had admitted the whole truth in one sentence to a man she had known for only a week.
 
But somehow its declaration did not carry the thrust she had expected.
 
She had expected a retaliation, recriminations about having asked for it by behaving in a certain way or dressing improperly.
 

But Nathan only sat watching her, and for the briefest of moments, she saw it again, the look of dark sadness that crossed his features fleetingly, the one she could not name nor dare ask him about.
 
Nathan Black had his own demons, and there was something about Nora that brought them to the surface.
 
And just like Nathan, she was too polite to ask of them.

He raised a hand, and she was not sure what he was going to do with it, but there was something about the gesture that made her speak.
 

"Please, Nathan," she said, "I cannot take anyone else being nice to me today.
 
It is taking all that I have to keep my composure.
 
If you so much as tell me it will be all right, I may start crying on you like a silly girl."
 

Nathan's hand hung in the air between them as Nora watched his expression.
 
The look of sadness that had crossed his features was replaced by his usual casual mien, his mouth not quite smiling but yet not frowning and his eyes interested but not engaged, the perfect mask of ease.
 
The look made her feel ridiculously better about everything, and she clamped down on her emotions, holding together her calm with everything she had.
 
Until Nathan spoke.

"But it is going to be all right," he said, and then he did smile, and Nora could do nothing except smile in return.
 

"You are rather annoying, Mr. Black.
 
You are aware of that, are you not?" Nora said then.
 

Nathan adjusted the lapels of his greatcoat as if assuming an elegant pose.
 

"It is a necessary trait of any great spy, Miss Quinton," he said, and Nora continued to smile.
 

Silence descended on them, and Nora did not mind it in the least.
 
There was something about Nathan that made Nora feel comfortable not speaking, just letting herself be with him.
 
It was an unusual feeling, and one to which Nora feared she was becoming accustomed.
 

"Nathan, are you certain you should be doing this?
 
Going to the Four of Clubs?
 
It sounds like an awful place.
 
Is there not someone else that can be sent?"
 

Nathan moved a little closer to her, taking one of her hands in his.
 
She did not retreat at his touch as his hands moved with more curiosity than comfort.

"Do you know when truly terrible things happen, and they send someone to help?" he asked.
 

Nora nodded.
 

"Well, they are the War Office, and I am the someone," he said, looking up from his exploration of her hand.
 

Nora had known all along that he was a spy, but it had all seemed too surreal.
 
As if it were the truth but not really.
 
But as Nathan held her hand in his, the reality came crowding in, and she realized just how dangerous this man must be.
 
She had noted his height, surely over six feet, and the wide span of his shoulders when she had first seen him enter the ballroom at Gregenden House, but his eyes told a story that had put her at ease.
 
And although her body may have been scared of Nathan Black, she had never truly been afraid of him.
 

"Is it really as simple as all that?" she asked, returning the pressure of his hand with her own, locking their fingers together.
 

Nathan looked down briefly as if to see what it was she had done with their fingers, but he looked up quickly.
 

"Sometimes it is.
 
Other times, it can get rather complicated."
 

"But you shall find Samuel?"

She did not know why she asked the question.
 
It seemed ridiculous to question him when he would at any moment head into danger to follow the only clue they had as to her son's whereabouts.

"Yes, Nora, we will find him," he said, squeezing her hand one more time before standing.

Nora looked down at her hand now resting on the fine crimson fabric of her borrowed gown.
 
It looked lost and alone suddenly without his hand holding it.
 
Nathan moved away from the sofa in the direction of the door.
 
She heard his footfalls grow fainter as the distance between them grew greater.

She stood.
   

"Nathan.
 
Wait."
 

Nathan turned around on his way to the door, surprise showing on his face.
 
He bent his head as she came right up to him.
 
Her heart thundered in her chest, feeling as if it may break directly through her skin at any moment.
 
Her breathing was shallow and sporadic.
 
Her hands grabbed fistfuls of her skirt to keep from shaking.

"Be careful.
 
Please,"
 
she said and kissed him.

She did not know if she felt resistance from Nathan or merely surprise, but when his arms came around her, pulling her against his body, she decided she felt neither.
 
Her hands came up, bracing herself against his solid chest.
 
She felt his heart pounding beneath her fingertips, a beat strong and erratic to match her own.
 
He deepened the kiss then, her head falling back along his arm as he slid one hand up to cup her cheek.
 
She wanted to cry at the sheer gentleness of his gesture, how precious he must find her to treat her with such care.
 
But just as quickly, he eased her away, his hands dropping to his sides as he leaned his forehead against hers.
 
Their heaving breaths mingled, and Nora worried she may faint.
 
After everything the day had brought, she found it ironic that it would be Nathan's kiss to bring her down.
     

"I will be careful, Nora," he whispered, cupping her cheek once more in the barest of touches.
 

And then he turned and left, leaving Nora all alone in her borrowed gown.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alec watched his brother from his seat opposite him in the carriage.
 
He noticed the tension in the other man's face, the way his jaw kept clenching almost imperceptibly, the tightness of his shoulders.
 
His brother watched out the window as the scenes of London moved past, one row of townhouses after another.
 
One sidewalk full of people blurred into the next.
 
Finally, his brother looked at him and noticed his careful gaze.
 

"What?" Nathan asked.
 

"Bastard," Alec said.
 

Nathan raised an eyebrow.
 

"And to what do I owe that term of endearment?"
 

Alec shrugged.

"What are you doing with the infallible Miss Eleanora Quinton?" Alec asked.

He may have just laughed at his brother's obvious predicament, but he was growing to care for the infallible housekeeper, and he would not see her reputation sullied.
 

"Oh," was all Nathan said before returning his gaze to the window.
 

Alec waited patiently.
 
If there were something truly bothering Nathan, he would get around to speaking of it eventually.
 
Alec would not press him.

Finally, Nathan shook his head.
 

"I do not know," he whispered.
 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alec asked, wondering why his brother would suddenly become reticent when they had discussed any number of weightier topics in the past.
 
Perhaps the matter of Elenora Quinton ran deeper than Alec believed.
 

"I do not know what there is to talk about," Nathan said.

Alec frowned.
 

"There most certainly is something to talk about," he said and then shut his mouth, having regretted the sentence as soon as he had spoken it.
 
He did not know what it was that plagued his brother and proclaiming that he knew there was something amiss just made him appear foolish.
 

Nathan's head swung around though.
 

"Of course there is.
 
But I do not know what it is."
 

Alec did not speak.
 
He had never seen Nathan like this.
 
Nathan had a casual affair maybe once a year.
 
He had always talked about them.
 
He did not brag, but they were not a secret.
 
And now he did not know what to say?
 
The matter of Elenora Quiinton truly did run deeper than he had believed.
 

Nathan turned back to the window while Alec worried.
 

"I just want to take care of her," Nathan finally said, his voice so soft the rattling of the carriage almost drowned it out.
 

The carriage hit a practically deep rut, and Alec almost was thrown off the bench because he was concentrating so hard on Nathan's statement.

"What do you mean by take care of her?
 
You mean, because someone is trying to kill her and they have kidnapped her son?"
 

Alec hoped that is what Nathan meant, but a little trickle of dread had started at the base of his neck and began to work its away into a pounding at his temples.
 
"You have only known the woman a mere week at most."