The Nude (full-length historical romance) (9 page)

He was trying to seduce her.

And, Heaven help her, she was tempted, oh so dearly tempted to let him.

* * * * *

Nigel sipped his brandy and peered over the top of the
Gazette
he was reading. White’s was crowded with the influential men of the
beau monde,
many enjoying the warmth of the blazing fires while London suffered from yet another day of chilly rains. His appearance at the gentleman’s club created a minor disturbance. A self-acknowledged recluse, he rarely graced the private rooms of White’s. But despite how much he hated drawing attention to himself, some matters needed to be handled in full view of the public.

“Have you lost your marbles, Edgeware? You have the matrons of the
ton
all twittering.” Mr. George Waver, Sir Justin Waver’s second son and Nigel’s neighbor in Dorset, plopped down in an adjacent leather chair.

Nigel set his crystal snifter on the small round table between them. He’d nursed the brandy for close to an hour, waiting for George to arrive.

“It’s rare when I’m not the topic of gossip and speculation,” he said wryly.

“But it’s so out of your nature to be the one creating the gossip, to—I hesitate to say it—to
entertain
.” George threw his legs over the arm of the chair and crossed his ankles. “Do you realize how much entertaining you’ll be responsible for with a house party? Guests linger, you must know, for longer than the week.”

“No one will linger. I’ll make certain of that.”

George shook his head. “For someone who has never hosted a party, you’re certainly jumping into this endeavor with both feet. May I inquire what the blazes you’re up to?”

Nigel chuckled. He never imagined he could surprise George, the founder of a large, though often beleaguered, shipping company. He lifted a manicured finger to his lips. “You may find the house party’s purpose even more shocking than the fact that I’m hosting it. But it is one of the reasons I’ve asked you to meet me.”

George lurched forward and swung his feet to the floor. “Really?” His sky-blue eyes sparkled. “It involves danger? And you need me to watch your back?”

“Danger of another kind, George. And, yes, I do need you to watch my back.” He paused for the sheer joy of watching his friend squirm in his seat. “I’m setting out to restore Lady Mercer to the good graces of society.”

“Lady Mercer?
The Nude?”

Nigel clenched his teeth. “Yes, Lady Mercer. She’s suffered a great wrong and I intend to make reparations. I hope I can count on your assistance in ensuring my guests treat her with the highest degree of respect.”

“I say she’s just as guilty as your Dionysus. If she didn’t want to be sneered at like some rantipole, she should have never taken up with the artist. She’s no better than any common light skirt—”

“No!” He reached over and caught George by his coat’s collar. “She had no knowledge of the painting. She’s had no contact with Dionysus. She is an innocent in this affair.”

“Very well, Edgeware.” George’s expression darkened. “Release me before you attract the attention of every damned gentleman in the club.”

Nigel let go of George and tried to straighten his friend’s crumpled lapel. “Can I count on your support?”

“Of course you have my support. You always do. I will kiss her hand and speak pretty words to her. And I will use my influence to sway my friends to do the same.” He frowned. “But Edgeware, Lady Mercer? Are you certain of her innocence? I mean, she
was
married to that bastard Mercer, after all.”

Nigel shuddered at the thought. Before a few days ago he hadn’t known of the Earl of Mercer’s marriage to Elsbeth. Sure, he’d known that the dastardly earl had married. All of the
beau monde
pitied his poor, nearly invisible wife. But Elsbeth?
She’d been
married to
that
monster? Worse, he suspected that the marriage was, at least in some part, Dionysus’s fault.

“The lady is above reproach,” he said.

“Even so, I cannot believe your sponsorship at a house party will repair the damage done by the painting. Over half the
beau monde
turned up at the exhibition.”

“If one party is not enough, I will have more. I have a duty to fulfill.”

“What is this connection to Dionysus? Is he a bastard sibling?”

“You know I cannot tell you, George.”

“I don’t know anything.” The matter had grown to be a sticking point between the two men. “Pardon me, I’m going to fetch a brandy.”

Nigel returned his attentions to the paper he’d been reading. But his mind wouldn’t focus on its articles. Instead, he spent the time alone cursing himself for not trusting his closest friend with this secret and cursing Dionysus for ruining Elsbeth’s reputation.

“I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to make a presence for yourself in Society, my boy. It took you long enough.”

Nigel glanced up from the paper. Lord Charles Purbeck’s thick lips were pursed with the same sour expression he seemed to always wear. “Good morning, Uncle. I didn’t realize you made a regular haunt of White’s. I would have suspected Brookes’s more to your political tastes.” He motioned to the empty chair beside him. “Please take a seat, sir.”

“Brookes’s. White’s. Bah! I keep membership in all the clubs, just as you should, boy. Wise men keep close tabs on both sides of the political fence.” His uncle settled in the chair and dug his hand into an interior pocket of his coat. “You cannot imagine the pleasure and surprise I felt when I received notice of your upcoming house party. I hope you have invited the right sort.” A strange gleam grew in Uncle Charles’s eyes. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “It’s not too late to amend the invitation list.”

Nigel accepted the paper and unfolded it. He quickly read the names of three of the most influential families of the
ton
. Luckily, the families had been invited. His efforts to secure Lady Mercer’s return to society would be a waste of time without the cooperation of powerful families.

“These families boast some of the most eligible young women on the Marriage Mart. I would most assuredly approve of such a match for you, boy.”

Nigel fought an urge to bury his head in his hands. His uncle despised such behavior, deeming any show of emotion to be below their class. “I’m not yet in search of a wife. This is nothing more than a simple house party,” he said very calmly, though the panic welling deep within him was anything but calm. His uncle had played the role of matchmaker four times. Each time ending in utter disaster.

“Bah!” Uncle Charles leaned forward and thumped Nigel on the chest. “It’s past time you to beget an heir, boy. You have a duty to your title, to our family line. And don’t think I haven’t heard of your accident at the estate. You’re lucky to be alive after being thrown from a horse like that.”

“But I am alive. And I fully intend to enjoy living a bit longer before I shackle myself to some simpering milksop or fishwife.”

“Nonsense! You only need to stay with a wife long enough to get her with child. An heir and a spare. That’s all that’s required of you. Find a wife who enjoys the country and keep her at the estate while you continue to pursue your business here in London. Nothing needs to change in your life. Nothing at all. You can even keep your doxies, and after your wife has produced your brood, she can do the same.” Uncle Charles sighed and smiled. “That’s how it went between your aunt and myself.”

And look how happy their lives had been. Nigel remembered grimly a terrifying summer morning. He was probably no older than six or seven at the time. He entered the breakfast parlor just as his aunt tossed a pretty blue and white flowered butter dish at Uncle Charles. Uncle Charles had ducked and the dish had shattered against the door mere inches above Nigel’s head.

“I’ll consider the notion of marriage, Uncle.” It took much less energy to agree with the man who’d raised him than to engage in what would inevitably turn into a
heated
argument.

As much as his uncle resented the truth of it, Nigel’s hands were now firmly on the reins of his fortune, his title, his estate, and yes, even his life. He doubted the world had ever experienced such a battle of wills such as the one he’d waged to wrest control from his well-intentioned uncle.

Charles had made his home at Purbeck Manor shortly after the death of Nigel’s father, which bestowed the title of the sixth Marquess of Edgeware on Nigel’s head at the tender age of three. Lady Purbeck, and their infant son, Charlie, naturally accompanied him in this move.

“See that you do, boy. Life, especially yours, is too short to delay on such important matters as begetting an heir.” Charles heaved out of the chair and bustled away, leaving Nigel to wonder if his uncle knew how his recent brush with death had not been an accident.

“Gawd, Edgeware, you look as if you need this brandy more than me. Your jaw’s as long as an old nag’s.” George returned, chipper as ever. It was a wonder how George never held a grudge for long.

Nigel waved away his friend’s comment with a negligent flip of his wrist. “Just a brief encounter with my uncle, who was only too happy to provide recommendations of whom to invite to my house party.”

“Sounds like you’ll be sleeping guests in shifts at Purbeck. I don’t remember the old place having enough bedchambers to house the bulk of London.”

“It doesn’t, and I have been a trifle more exclusive than that in my invitations.” He leaned forward in his chair. George, though projecting his usual lazy demeanor, was acting anything but normal. The deep lines underscoring his eyes hinted at several nights of lost sleep. “I know what my worries are. Why do you require a brandy fortifier?”

George flustered for a moment, a most unusual behavior for the businessman. “I? Did I say something was wrong?” He swallowed nearly half his drink. “You must be mistaken.”

“Come now,” Nigel urged.

“Just a bit of trouble with the shipping business. Nothing that wouldn’t bore the ears off a true aristocrat such as yourself.” George took another sip. “By-the-bye, I want to thank you for involving my mother with this grand event of yours. She’s bubbling over with excitement, chattering on and on about how delighted she is to have been asked to play hostess at your house party.”

“I’m only too pleased she’d agreed. With a household filled with men, I required the services of a respectable matron to fill the role.” He let the matter of George’s business problems fade to the background, though he wasn’t quite ready to let the matter drop completely. If his friend needed assistance, he wanted to help.

“Let me ask you an impertinent question, Edgeware.” George’s natural smile returned. “Why a house party? A series of balls hosted by yourself and some of your most powerful friends would do just as well in repairing Lady Mercer’s good name.”

“Time,” Nigel muttered. “I’m short of it. I was at Purbeck when Lady Mercer’s disaster erupted.” He glanced around the room to make sure no one could overhear them. “No one other than my head groom knows this,” he said. “I expect you’ll be able to keep your mouth shut regarding what I am about to tell you.”

“Have you ever known my lips to run unfettered?”

“No, I haven’t. And don’t pick up the habit now. A few days ago I was riding the borders of the estate in search of fresh evidence of smuggling operations when Zeus bolted. He tossed me headlong to the ground.”

“Zounds,
you’re lucky to be alive! That stallion of yours is a mammoth.”

“That’s not the half of it. I took a pretty bad crack on the head and suffer from various pains ever since.”

“Zounds,” George breathed through his teeth.

“It wasn’t Zeus’s fault. Someone placed a metal burr beneath his saddle. My weight caused him considerable pain.”

“A murder attempt? You cannot be serious.”

“Considering how I was mistaken for dead for several minutes after the accident, I have to be serious about this.” Nigel pulled a hand through his hair. “Since I can’t imagine having any enemies among the locals in the village, I’m wondering if I hadn’t stumbled into the middle of a crime ring. Smuggling is growing again in the area. You’ve been to your estate in Dorset recently. Have you heard any talk about illegal activities?”