A Visit From Sir Nicholas (19 page)

"As appealing as that sounds, I have other matters on my mind at the moment."

"Ah, yes," Jules grinned wickedly. "Sir Nicholas. Mr. Collingsworth.
Nicholas.''
Jules seated herself at the table and refilled her teacup. "You have not finished telling me about the two of you."

"There is little more to tell." Elizabeth sat down and poured a cup of her own.

"Did he kiss you?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Twice."

"And?"

"And…" And he'd curled her toes and made her ache with newly discovered desire and touched her soul. And in spite of her denial last night, she hadn't forgotten so much as a single word they'd spoken or a moment they'd shared. She had simply stored the memories of him in a disused portion of her mind as one would pack away summer linens or winter blankets in the bottom of a chest.

"And," Elizabeth shrugged, "and that was it. There was nothing more to it than that." Jules gasped. "You're lying. I can see it on your face."

"I am not," Elizabeth said quickly and met her sister's gaze defiantly. "I'd been kissed before, you know," she sighed in surrender. "But not like that. Never like that."

"Not even by Charles?"

Elizabeth blew a long breath. "Not even by Charles."

Jules's eyes widened. "My, my, this is a revelation. And juicy enough that I shall forgive you for taking a decade to tell me about it."

"I do appreciate that."

"So," Jules took a sip of tea and adopted a casual tone. "How is Nicholas after all these years? Still as grim and serious as I recall?"

"Not at all. He's actually rather charming when he's not being terribly arrogant or annoyingly high-handed. He was quite gracious, especially given as I was not particularly pleasant to him." She picked absently at the lace table covering. "I did not expect to encounter him yesterday or ever again really. His appearance came as something of a shock."

"As well it would." Jules studied her sister curiously. "Is he as handsome as ever?"

"Handsomer I think. He has aged nicely."

The smoldering quality of his dark eyes was as intense as she'd remembered, perhaps more so. Indeed, in nearly every aspect Nicholas was more than she'd remembered. The moment he entered a room it seemed entirely too small for his presence. The brooding nature she recalled had vanished, and the confident manner that had replaced it was compelling, even perhaps irresistible. This was a man who enjoyed life. A man one wanted to be in the company of. A man who could weaken her knees with a single look and, as much as she was confident she had not let him know, had done just that last night.

"He's still the heir to a respectable title and he's become terribly rich as well, hasn't he?" Elizabeth nodded. "Terribly."

Jules pulled her brows together. "Does he have a wife?"

"I don't think so."

"A mistress then?"

"He's barely arrived back in London. I daresay he hasn't had the opportunity to acquire a mistress." Jules snorted. Charles's infidelity had affected his sister-in-law as deeply as it had affected his wife. Jules was now firmly convinced that no man, with the possible exception of her own husband, was completely trustworthy.

"Are his intentions honorable?"

"I don't know."

"Does it matter?"

"Certainly. I—" Elizabeth stared at her sister. "I don't know that either."

"How very interesting," Jules murmured. "Let's see then. Nicholas is rich, handsome, charming, and interested in you with intentions that might or might not be honorable." Jules ran her finger around the edge of her teacup. "Aside from that annoying problem of his involvement in your financial affairs, which may not last especially long, I fear I don't understand your problem."

"Jules!"

"Unless, of course," Jules raised a brow, "there's more you haven't told me."

"There might be a little more." Elizabeth got to her feet and meandered aimlessly around the room. "The night before he left—"

"The night of the Christmas ball?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Ten years ago this upcoming Christmas ball?"

"Yes."

"My, that is an interesting twist," Jules murmured.

"I offered to go with him and," Elizabeth looked at her sister, "he didn't want me."

"I see."

"You're not shocked?" Elizabeth sank back down in her chair and studied her sister nervously.

"I should be, I suppose, and I would have been at the time, but no, I'm not especially shocked. As you've said, it was years ago and nothing really came of it." Jules thought for a moment. "So Nicholas rejected your offer and you proceeded to marry Charles."

"I loved Charles," Elizabeth said simply.

"Everyone loved Charles." Jules's tone was wry. "I believe that was his problem." She paused and considered her sister. "Did you love Nicholas as well?"

"No. What an absurd thought," Elizabeth said quickly. "How could I have married Charles if I loved someone else?"

"I'm not saying you didn't love Charles. You had loved Charles in some fashion for much of your life," Jules said slowly. "But I wonder if what you felt for Nicholas wasn't love as well. You did offer to run off with him."

"It wasn't love." Elizabeth shook her head firmly. "It was nothing more than, I don't know, lust, I suppose. A desire for adventure and excitement. That sort of thing."

"Then he didn't break your heart?"

"Absolutely not. My pride, perhaps, but not my heart."

"Well, if you didn't love him—"

"I didn't."

"And he didn't break your heart—"

"He didn't."

"Then again, dear sister, I simply don't understand." Jules leaned forward and stared into her sister's eyes.

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

Elizabeth raised her chin. "I detest him."

Jules scoffed.

"Perhaps I don't detest him exactly, but I certainly don't trust him."

"Then don't marry him."

"Marry him?" Elizabeth started. "The question of marriage is not an issue. He certainly did not mention marriage, nor have I any intention of marrying him. I have agreed to do no more than accompany him to his uncle's party, and that only because I had no real choice. Why, the thought of marriage to Nicholas, to any man for that matter, has not so much as crossed my mind."

"What has crossed your mind?"

"Nothing of any consequence. Not a thing, really." She smiled weakly and acknowledged the lie to herself. In spite of her confusion, the one thing she had realized in the long, sleepless hours of the night was that she would like to do considerably more than return Nicholas's kiss. Jules studied her in a considering manner but didn't say a word.

Elizabeth heaved a resigned sigh. "I may possibly want him as well."

"Then I see no reason why you should not have him." Jules smiled and sipped at her tea as if she were suggesting an excursion to Bond Street for perfumed soaps and not something scandalous and improper and immoral.

"I couldn't possibly." Even to her own ears, Elizabeth's denial did not quite ring true.

"Why not?"

"It would be wrong. I have certain principles, after all. There is a question of propriety. Certain rules of behavior that one is expected—"

"Men have liaisons of an amorous nature all the time," Jules said in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I am not a man."

"No, but you see no reason why you should not be given the same consideration as a man when it comes to your abilities with your finances." Jules sipped her tea and widened her eyes in an innocent manner Elizabeth didn't believe for a moment. "Why is this any different?"

"I don't know, but it seems completely different." Was it really? Charles, and any number of other men she could name, married men at that, apparently had no qualms about taking a lover. Why should she?

"After all, Lizzie, you are a widow, not a wife. You quite enjoy the freedom your status affords you. Why should that freedom not extend to your bed?"

"Jules! How can you say such a thing? I had no idea you were so… so…" Elizabeth searched for the right word, "free thinking!"

Jules laughed. "Not at all. I am simply happy with my life, and I wish you to be happy as well."

"I was happy."

"No, my dear, misguided sister. You were content." Jules leaned back in her chair and considered her sister. "When you married Charles, I thought your life would be perfect. Indeed, I thought he was perfect. It wasn't until I met and married that I saw what true happiness was. My husband is the other half of my soul."

"A grand passion," Elizabeth murmured.

Jules nodded. "Exactly. I don't think Charles was a grand passion." Elizabeth stared. "You think my marriage was a mistake?"

"I'm not sure I would call it a mistake." Jules paused to choose her words. "Indeed, if we were to turn back the clock and live those days once more, I'm certain I would encourage you to marry Charles again. It's only hindsight and experience that now make me think otherwise. Although it scarcely matters anymore." She adopted a brisk tone. "You have an entire life ahead of you, and you have earned the right to live it exactly as you please." Jules grinned in a most suggestive manner. "And it seems to me there is one thing that is virtually guaranteed to please. A special Christmas gift, to yourself, if you will."

"Nicholas Collingsworth," Elizabeth murmured.

"You said you wanted him."

"It's exceptionally difficult to admit such a thing."

Whether she was willing to admit it aloud or not, she did indeed want Nicholas now, as she had ten years ago. As she might well have wanted him somewhere in the back of her mind every day between then and now. But lust was a far cry from love.

"You should have him then."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"Think of him like a sweet that you have denied yourself for a very long time."

"Ten years," Elizabeth said under her breath. Ten long years.

Why not indeed?

It had been her experience that the desire for sweets long denied simply grows with the passage of time, the sweet itself becoming more and more irresistible. A simple sampling, nothing more than a taste really, might serve to ease the desire.

Ten very long years.

But gorging on said sweet might well satisfy the craving forever.

Of course, it would never do at all if she'd truly been in love with him. But as it had been simply lust then and simply lust now there was certainly no risk to her heart. Certainly, there was the possibility of hurting him if indeed he truly cared for her. His admission of having made a mistake notwithstanding, if he had loved her, how could he ever have left her? And left her in a manner that virtually assured she would turn to Charles.