The Most Wicked Of Sins (8 page)

“I do.” Nick looked down at Ivy. “Interesting house staff you’ve assembled.” He lifted one corner of his mouth and flashed her a cocky smile.

“They are only for appearances.” Ivy grimaced, then slid her arm from Nick’s and started for the door. “I did my best with the money I had.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Nick felt dumbstruck. Was he actually supposed to stay here—tonight?

Ivy stopped and turned around. “Cheatlin will show you to your bedchamber. Your…man will come with your personal effects in the morning. I shall arrive at noon to begin your training. Good eve, Lord Counterton.”

Cheatlin jogged past her and swung the door open. “My lady.” He bowed his head.

Training? Dear God.
What else did she have planned for him? Nick reached the door just as she stepped outside onto the stoop. “Please, Lady Ivy, do allow me to escort you to your carriage.” He offered his arm to her.

She gave a furtive glance around the west end of the square.

“I am supposed to be courting you, after all,” Nick added, raising his elbow higher.

“You are correct, of course. But as a maid, it is not permissible for me to call upon a bachelor—especially in the dead of night.”

“The carriage is only a few steps from the door. Please.”

Sighing with resignation, Ivy looped her arm around his, and together they descended the stairs to the carriage.

Nick did not hesitate, but opened the door for her and hurriedly handed her up the stairs and inside. She had just seated herself, when he leaned into dimly moonlit interior of the cab. “Allow me just one more moment of your time, Lady Ivy, if you do not mind.”

“Of course not.” She scooted forward on the bench toward him to listen.

Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her forward so quickly that she had no time to resist and pressed his lips to her warm mouth, drawing her soft body against his chest as he kissed her firmly.

When their lips parted, he felt the flutter of her breath on his face as she gave a pleased sigh. She lifted her lids lazily and straightened herself on the seat, sitting there as if dazed.

“It is important to rehearse,” he whispered to her. “I am a professional after all.”

“Oh, my.” Ivy lifted her fingers to her lips. “I admit, you are a very, very good actor, sir.”

Nearly noon, the next day
Berkeley Square

“Damn you, Felix, what the hell did you pack in this trunk—or by the weight of it, should I be asking whom did you pack?” Nick balanced most of the weight of the boulder-heavy trunk as they climbed the stair treads to the third floor.

“Your clothing is still missing,” his cousin replied, panting from the exertion of carrying the trunk up the long staircase. “So I had to pack
everything—
of mine.” Felix set his end of the trunk down as they reached the passage that led to the room designated as Nick’s, the master’s, bedchamber. Grimacing, Felix whisked his hands behind him and kneaded his lower back. “Had to pack it all. I have no notion what might fit you properly. If you recall, we are not exactly the same measure, Nicky.”

It took another moment before Nick, who was still holding his end of the trunk by a brass handle, realized his cousin was not going to offer a moment’s more assistance. “You were supposed to be at the house by first light,” he huffed as he dragged the trunk down the passage to the first door on the right. “Lady Ivy might arrive at any moment…to begin my training, whatever that means.”

He kicked open the bedchamber door and pulled the trunk inside.

“She plans to
train
you this morning? How, pray, was I to know that? Suddenly a man claiming to be in the Sinclair family’s employ raps upon the door and shoves a note in my hand, bidding me to bring your clothing to him at once.” Felix followed him into the room and immediately began his perusal. “I laughed, thinking you were having me on, until I saw the Sinclair carriage in front of the house. Since you had no clothing, I proposed delivering them to you, wherever you were, at first light this morning. Thankfully, the man agreed.” He walked to one of four large windows and drew back the curtain to peer out at the square. “So tell me, Nick. Why the hell are you here at the Berkeley Square house? I thought you were going to stay with me until you left.”

“You wouldn’t believe me. I am certain this isn’t wise, but somehow, I know I will regret it if I don’t play along. Besides, you will allow that I have never been one to walk away from a beautiful woman.”

“Allow me a moment, cousin.” Felix opened one palm. “Lady Ivy, believing you to be an actor, offers to pay you quite a lot of blunt to impersonate the new Marquess of Counterton—having no idea that you
are
the true marquess himself.”

“You’ve got the right of it. Five hundred pounds.”

“But five hundred pounds is nothing to you. And yet you accepted her offer?”

“I did. Thought it wise to play myself instead of some other chap she might engage outside the theater.”

Felix shook his head. “Why not just tell her who you are and put a quick end to her nonsensical plan? Doing so would be far easier.”

Nick looked up at him. “Yes, you may be right there, but it would hardly be as amusing. As it is, I am able to oversee the renovation of my house—and make sure Cheatlin isn’t exaggerating costs. And, as long as I am the one impersonating myself, what harm is there in spending a little time with a most beautiful and entertaining—and did I say passionate?—woman.” He waggled his eyebrows rakishly for effect.

Felix clapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, Nicky, I fear, in this instance, you will regret having not walked—no, having not
run
away from this particular beautiful woman.”

Nick shrugged a shoulder, ignoring Felix’s concern, as he flung open the trunk and began tossing the coats, neckcloths and waistcoats of every color of a summer flower garden, gloves and a single beaver hat onto the carved mahogany tester bed. “Were you in complete darkness when you assembled this collection for me?”

Nothing suited. Nothing. It was all too…dramatic.

Annoyed, he jerked his head around to ask for assistance in assembling morning wear.

Felix was now bent over the copper hipbath, humming as he washed his hands. “Ah, the life of the lord. The water is still warm.”

“Yes, it is.” Because it had taken Nick so bloody long to light the kitchen fire, heat the water, and carry it pail after pail, up the stairs—himself. It had taken him more than an hour to complete the task, causing him to wonder where the phantom maids and footmen were. For, despite what Cheatlin had told him, they were not present in the house at all. Not even on the fourth floor…working.

With pinched fingers, Nick reached deep into the bottom of the trunk and withdrew a hothouse-lemon-hued neckcloth and waved it at his cousin. “And you thought I would wear this—this
thing?
”

Felix straightened, pausing only briefly at the washstand to dry his hands, before crossing the chamber and snatching the neckcloth from Nick’s fingers. “Don’t be such a goose, of course not.” He paused for moment, then glanced up coyly. “I brought this treasure for me.”

Nick came to his feet, realizing where the conversation was headed and the request Felix would make. “Oh, no. No. You are
not
staying here!”

Snorting, Felix waved off the reply. “Come now, why ever not? You obviously could use a little help around here. There has not been a footman or maid in sight since I arrived.” He flipped up the tails of his coat and sat down on the edge of the tester bed. “Now that the theater is closed, I haven’t anything to do. Have some consideration.”

“No.”

“You have not been informed about the structure of London Society or its key players. I can assist you. I know all of the Society gossip. I never miss an
on dit
column.” When Nick remained silent, Felix became persistent. “Nicky, you’ve established some sort of intimate connection with a Sinclair—a bloody Sinclair. I cannot exist another day if you do not tell me how this came about. Please confess. I can help you.”

“No!”
Just then the pounding of the brass knocker on the front door echoed through the house. Nick looked up at Felix. “Dear God, it’s Ivy.” His gaze shot to the mound of clothes on the bed.

The knocker sounded again. No one was answering.

Felix leaped to his feet and began tearing through the clothes. “This, and this too.” He threw a coat and waistcoat at Nick. “White neckcloth, and…the breeches you are wearing. They will have to do.” Then his cousin shed his own bottle green kerseymere coat and slipped a black broadcloth coat over his shoulders. Nick immediately recognized it as Felix’s butler costume. “I shall admit Lady Ivy and settle her in the parlor…assuming I can find it.”

Nick thought to argue, but Felix pointed at the waistcoat.

“Hurry now. If you don’t, I would not be surprised if she came right up the stairs to see you. You know she would do it,” Felix said, with a bit of playful warning in his voice. “Besides, you don’t want to leave me alone with her for too long…” Felix laughed at his reflection in the mirror as he quickly removed a wisp of lint from his waistcoat and straightened his coat. Then, turning on the ball of his foot, he disappeared through the doorway and rushed down the stairs.

Grabbing up a wrinkled but still serviceable white neckcloth, Nick hurried before the standing cheval mirror and fumbled his way through fashioning a simple mail coach tie. It took three attempts, due to his lack of focus.

But how could he concentrate on anything at all? Felix was right. Nick didn’t want his mischievous cousin alone with Ivy.

Not even for a tick of the clock’s minute hand.

Ivy’s gaze flitted around the crimson parlor, while she, her brother Grant, and the two tailors he had engaged waited for Dominic to join them. Why the room was called the crimson parlor, Ivy hadn’t a clue. The parlor walls were buff and the wooden trim a muted green. Dusty damask swags were tacked above two large windows, but they were so old and faded that she couldn’t quite discern what color they had once been.

The tall footman hovering just outside the parlor door was no help in solving the mystery, but, as one of Cheatlin’s new members of the house staff, she supposed he couldn’t be expected to. La, he even had trouble finding the parlor once he’d ushered her and the gentlemen accompanying her inside.

She’d have to speak to Cheatlin about the staff’s familiarity with the house. It was essential that they all play their roles flawlessly. This morning might have been a disaster. What if Lady Winthrop had come to the house this day, instead of her? What then?

When Dominic (it was amazing how easily Ivy had come to think of him by that name) entered the crimson parlor, which was not red at all, she was immediately reassured that she had done absolutely the right thing in spending the coin so that Grant could engage two of London’s most prominent tailors, Mr. Schweitzer and Mr. Davidson to craft Lord Counterton a basic wardrobe.

“Good morning, Lady Ivy”—Dominic crossed the room in less than three strides, lifted her hand, and pressed a chaste kiss atop it—“Lord Grant. Gentlemen.”

Ivy felt her cheeks color, which was ridiculous. How had she actually allowed herself to misread those subtle signals that told her that he might truly be a little attracted to her—despite the fact that she was his employer. Gads, how blind had she been? Why just looking at the man’s tight-waisted, plum-colored coat and flamboyant waistcoat made it blatantly evident to everyone in the room that he was…an actor. And, all of the ladies in London could tell you that all of the most handsome actors in London, the sort that made the women swoon, preferred the company of…other actors. Which was a terrible shame for all the misses in Town. Ivy sighed inwardly as she gazed upon Dominic’s perfectly handsome face and silently added herself to the number of the disappointed misses.

“Lord Counterton,” Grant was saying, “may I introduce two of the finest tailors in London, Mr. Schweitzer and Mr. Davidson of 12 Cork Street.”

“I am afraid I do not understand…” Dominic said, glancing quizzically at the tailors.

“They are here to take measurements for a new wardrobe. I mentioned their shop because you will need to go there on the morrow to have your evening coat fitted. We all will be attending the ball at the Argyle Rooms that evening. Mr. Schweitzer and Mr. Davidson have assigned their entire staff to complete your wardrobe.”

“They understand how important it is”—she pinned Dominic with her gaze—“that the new Marquess of Counterton is appropriately dressed to assume his elevated station in Society.”

The two tailors graciously tipped their heads to Dominic.

The footman left his post at the doorway and charged forward. “I see nothing wrong with his ensemble! Every piece, except the breeches perhaps, is of the highest quality.”

“Felix, please.” Dominic caught the footman’s arm and drew him away from Ivy. “Of course I agree with you. I believe Lord Grant only means that a more formal ensemble is required for this event. Is that not so, Lord Grant?”

Ivy blinked.
Did he just call the footman “Felix”?
Suddenly the footman’s lack of knowledge of the layout of the house made sense to her. The footman was not one of Cheatlin’s staff who had been working in this house for two months—he was Dominic’s man…from Davies Street. Though, he looked much younger. It must have only been a trick of evening light that had made his hair appear gray before.

“Lord Counterton is correct. The waistcoat he is wearing is especially quite fine, but something…er…less splendid is required for this particular ball,” Grant replied, as if trying placate this Felix fellow.

But Ivy decided not to waste a moment longer thinking about who Felix truly was, not when there was so much still to do to prepare Dominic to take on his role as Lord Counterton
tomorrow
!

Grant turned his attention away from the overstepping footman and to the tailors. “Dear sirs, you are very gracious in coming to Berkeley Square to take Lord Counterton’s essential measures, so let us not delay your ministrations any longer.” He widened his eyes meaningfully at Ivy. Only she didn’t quite understand. She stood there glancing from one gentleman to the next until Dominic suddenly crystallized Grant’s hint for her.