A Visit From Sir Nicholas (25 page)

"Perhaps Sir Nicholas is of a romantic nature," Miss Sweet Young Debutante said with enthusiasm, obviously no longer equating him with Scrooge. "Perhaps he has never found a lady who could capture his heart?"

"Or a woman he would wish to tie himself to for the rest of his days," Elizabeth said. Nick glanced at thzabeth.

"Or perhaps any woman who might well capture his heart had already been spoken for." Juliana met his gaze firmly.

"Or possibly…" He took Juliana's hand and drew it to his lips. Her eyes were a deeper shade than her sister's, more blue than green, and held a look of amusement and possibly even appreciation. "… she was entirely too young and far and away too outspoken to be a suitable wife and he missed his opportunity." He brushed a kiss across her hand. "To his everlasting regret." Juliana burst into laughter and pulled her hand from his. "Well said, Sir Nicholas." She nodded with definite approval. Nick had the distinct impression she was approving him for something far more important than his way with words, and he wondered exactly how much she knew about the relationship between her sister and himself. "Well said, indeed."

Juliana turned away in response to a comment from her husband at her side. Jonathon cast Nick a curious grin, then directed his attention to another guest, and a moment later, the others took up various conversations.

Across the table Elizabeth toyed with her wineglass and spoke absently to the gentleman seated beside her.

For years Nick had refused to admit to himself the depth of his feelings for Elizabeth. Feelings that had been ignored but had never faltered.

Juliana was right. He had never married because the one woman who had indeed captured his heart had already been spoken for. He had never married because no other woman had come close to touching his soul the way Elizabeth did. No, she didn't merely touch it, she owned it. Possessed it. For better or ill, he was hers, he had always been hers, for now and forever.

Now he just had to convince her of that.

Tonight, thanks to the outrageous bargain she had proposed, he would finally make her his. He intended to take full advantage of her scandalous decision to at long last give in to the desire that had lingered between them for a decade. But her conditions were absurd, and, aside from fidelity and discretion, he had no intention of abiding by them. He had spent the past seven days considering her proposition and making arrangements of his own.

Nick had let her go once in the guise of a noble mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He would not let her go again. Not after Christmas, not ever. He sipped his wine and watched her thoughtfully. He had a great deal of time to make up for.

Getting into her bed would be the easy part. Working his way into her heart would require a great deal of effort. He wasn't sure why she resisted the idea of love, but he had never let an obstacle stand in his path before and he would not start now.

Nicholas Collingsworth had never failed to acquire a ship he had wanted, and he would not fail now to gain the love, the heart, of the one woman in the world who owned his soul. Elizabeth glanced at him, and her gaze met his. He raised his glass in a private, discreet toast. And he intended to have a great deal of fun in the process.

Nicholas helped Elizabeth out of the carriage, and they started toward the front door. All in all, the dinner to welcome Nicholas home had been lovely. Rather it
would
have been lovely if not for the anticipation that quivered deep inside her, fluttering in her stomach and catching at her breath. And the evening had stretched on forever.

This would be it, then. Tonight, probably within the hour, Nicholas would be in her bed. She wanted this, wanted him, more than she'd ever imagined possible. And almost as much as she wanted him, she wanted to know the
why
of it all.

Was it indeed the denial of a sweet long craved, or was it something more? Something ignored for a decade? Something lasting? Something forever?

She wanted to know, and at the same time, she feared the knowledge and what it said about her and the life she had led and the decisions she had made.

Elizabeth glanced up at the house before her and stopped in midstride. "Nicholas, your driver has made a mistake."

"Are you sure?" he said coolly. "My driver never makes mistakes."

"He has this time. This is not my house." She stepped back and shook her head. "Mine is one door down."

"Indeed it is, but it is no mistake." He took her arm and led her up the steps. The door swung open at their approach. He stepped aside to allow her to enter before him. "This is
my
house." She swiveled to face him. "Your house? What do you mean, your house?"

"I mean it belongs to me." He shrugged off his greatcoat into the waiting hands of a discreetly nondescript servant, no doubt a butler. "I purchased it."

"What do you mean, you purchased it?" She unfastened her cloak and handed it to the butler with a nod of thanks. He accepted the garment and promptly vanished into the shadows of the foyer. Nicholas raised a brow. "I thought I was being quite clear. I mean precisely what I just said. This house belongs to me because I purchased it."

Elizabeth stared at him suspiciously. "Why?"

He smiled in an enigmatic manner and strolled into the parlor. The man was as annoying as he was cryptic. And this latest action of his, like virtually everything else he'd done thus far, did not bode well. Elizabeth grit her teeth and followed. "I don't believe you."

"Believe as you wish, but it's true."

"It couldn't possibly be true. Lord Halstrom has lived in this house forever." She narrowed her gaze.

"What have you done with him then?"

"Lord Halstrom?"

"Yes, of course, Lord Halstrom, the poor dear man." Elizabeth pushed aside a tiny twinge of guilt. She had lived in the house next door since Charles had purchased it shortly after their marriage, and Lord Halstrom had lived here for years before that. But admittedly, she wasn't at all sure she'd recognize the older gentleman if she ran into him in her own parlor. He was a widower and not overly social. Indeed, it was her understanding that he spent most of his time in the country.

"I bashed him over the head and left him for dead," Nicholas said mildly and crossed the room to where a decanter and glasses sat waiting on a table. "Ah, I see Edwards is efficient as always. He's working out extremely well. I'm quite pleased with him."

"Oh?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did he help you bury the body?" He glanced at her with an amused smile. "I assume you would like a brandy."

"Yes, of course, although it won't do you any good, you know."

He chuckled. "I don't expect it to."

"Then your expectations will be met." She accepted the glass. "Well?"

"Well."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I thought I did."

"Nicholas!"

"Very well, I confess." He shrugged. "I did not bash him over the head. Indeed if anyone was the injured party in our transaction, it was myself."

She snorted.

Nicholas sipped his drink. "Even though his lordship was eager to sell and retire to his estate in the country, he wanted an exorbitant amount of money for this place. Fortunately, I was willing and able to spend an exorbitant amount."

"Why?" she said sharply, although she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

"Property is always a good investment."

"And?"

"And I am always looking for good investments. I could scarcely go wrong with this one." He swirled the brandy in his glass. "It is an excellent location in a fine neighborhood."

"It is one door away from my house," she snapped.

He grinned. "I said it was an excellent location."

A horrible thought struck her, and she stared. "Surely you aren't planning on living here after Christmas?"

"Oh, but I am. Indeed, I have been living here for the past several days. I'm rather surprised you hadn't noticed."

She hadn't noticed, but then she probably wouldn't have unless they had left their respec-tive houses at the same moment. "Why aren't you living with your uncle?"

"I value my privacy and my independence, as does my uncle. Surely you can understand that."

"Go on."

"I thought, and he agreed, that having separate residences would suit us both best."

"I daresay the two of you could live in Thornecroft House for years and scarcely cross one another's path. The place is enormous."

"And this house is not." He glanced around the room and smiled. "Still, it's a good size and quite to my liking."

Elizabeth had scarcely noticed anything since she'd walked through the door. Now, she scanned the parlor curiously. The proportions were pleasant enough but not easy to discern given the vast amount of furnishings the room contained. The word that came to mind was
full
. Or rather
stuffed
. There were no less than a half dozen chairs and at least two sofas, plus tables, desks, several clocks, all manner of bric-a-brac, and a great deal of statuary. The mantel was lined with porcelain pots and vases, Chinese in appearance, and similar pieces perched on available space around the room. If she could have imagined a setting for Nicholas, this would not have been it.

"I purchased the place fully furnished. Hal-strom apparently never saw an item of questionable interest that he could resist acquiring. He fancied himself something of a collector, I believe, although there is no rhyme nor reason in the varied assortment of articles to be found any-where in the house. Indeed, he was as eager to rid himself of this stuff as he was to rid himself of the house. I can well understand why." He grimaced. "It is not to my taste, and I anticipate making a great number of changes, but it will suit for now." He nodded at the vases on the mantel. "The porcelain, however, is mine." She raised a brow. "You collect pottery?"

"No. I collect fifteenth-and sixteenth-century Ming dynasty porcelain." He set down his glass and made his way to the fireplace, dodging a fainting couch, two antique French chairs, and a very large bronze Mercury. "Aside from its age, it's really quite unique." He picked up a small, long-necked vase with a blue-on-white design. "It's made from a special clay found in only one region of China. It took a dozen or so people simply to produce one individual jar or vase. Blue and white is more common than the colored pieces, although I do have a few of those. Most of mine have imperial markings, that is they were destined only for use at the imperial palace."