"I bloody well believe some of it," Frederick snapped, then sighed. "I believe you should stay here and learn what you must of necessity learn to be the next Earl of Thornecroft."
"You have already taught me well. Indeed, I am more than prepared to take on the responsibilities of your title and wealth when the time comes." He caught his uncle's gaze. "A time, I might point out, that will be very far from now."
"Yes, yes." Frederick waved off Nick's comment. "You wish me to live forever."
"You've barely passed forty-eight years of age and, I daresay, you have a good many years left in you." Nick flipped open the book, glanced at the title page:
The British Flora; or, Genera and Species of
British Plants: Arranged after the Reformed Sexual System; and Illustrated by Numerous Tables,
and Dissections by Robert John Thorton, M.D
. and grimaced. "Of course, stuff like this may damn well kill you from sheer boredom alone."
Frederick ignored him. "You're not behaving at all as a proper Englishman and heir to a long-established and respectable title should behave."
"And a proper Englishman heir to a long-established and respectable title would stay here?" Nick paged through the book idly. "Squandering your wealth while waiting for your demise?"
"It's not uncommon," Frederick said under his breath.
"Then I fear indeed I am not a proper Englishman. Besides, Uncle, you would hate that." He snapped the book closed, then met his uncle's gaze. "I have heard your comments, rather scathing I might add, about men who do nothing more with their lives than count the days until their father's passing. You have no tolerance or patience for such wastrels." He aimed the book at the older man. "And you would be damnably disappointed in me if I chose that path."
"One of the blackest days in a man's life is when his son, or in your case the child he's always thought of as a son, throws his own words back in his face," Frederick said grimly. "You have principles and honor, my boy. I have obviously done something right in raising you to this point. To my eternal regret."
"I shall miss you too, Uncle." Nick laughed, then sobered. "I do admit it is difficult to leave you here alone."
"Then stay."
"Uncle."
"Very well. Abandon me. Toss me to the wolves of loneliness and despair." Frederick heaved an overly theatrical sigh.
"I daresay you will not be entirely alone." Nick bit back a grin and replaced the volume on the shelf.
"Not entirely." The corners of Frederick's mouth rose in an altogether wicked manner. "There is an actress at Drury Lane who does not seem especially adverse to men of my years. Or my wealth."
"Take care, Uncle, that you do not fall into bad habits." Nick laughed and continued his aimless circle of the room. He would miss his uncle, and leaving him was far more difficult than Nick had anticipated. But now that he had decided to leave, it seemed pointless to linger any longer than necessary.
"One could say my habits could scarcely be worse than they are now." Frederick puffed at his cigar and blew a perfect ring of blue smoke into the air.
"One could definitely say that if one was of a particularly narrow-minded nature." Those not bothered with such a nature would note only that Lord Thornecroft was a wealthy, unmarried gentleman with a taste for fine wine and good cigars and lovely ladies.
"Perhaps it's the young lady who should be warned."
"Perhaps." Nick grinned.
They could well joke about Frederick's amusements and how the rest of the world might view them, but he had been as responsible and good a parent as anyone could ever ask. From the day Nick had walked into his life, Frederick had been more father than uncle to the boy.
"I do regret leaving you alone, you know, but it's your own fault. You should have family around you, children of your own, a loving wife."
Frederick chuckled. "I don't think this particular lady is overly interested in marriage and family."
"Probably not." Nick paused to choose his words with care. He was to leave tomorrow, and in spite of the thirteen years spent living with this kind and warm-spirited gentleman, a man who had very much taken the place of his father and done so with grace and affection, there were still things left unsaid between them.
"Why did you never marry?" Nick's tone was casual, as if neither the question nor the answer was of any significance.
Frederick's voice was as unconcerned as the younger man's. "Marriage has never especially appealed to me. Shackling yourself to one woman for life and all that. Never found the right woman worth sacrificing my freedom for, I suppose."
"Except my mother," Nick said quietly.
Frederick's brow rose slightly in surprise. "You know about that, do you?" Nick nodded. He'd known for years the story of how his mother had been betrothed to his uncle but had instead run off with his uncle's younger brother. Frederick had never said a word, nor had he ever said anything implying that either Nick's father or mother were anything other than honorable. Indeed, given his uncle's obvious affection toward his parents, learning the truth had come as something of a shock for Nick.
"I forgave them, you know. Rather quickly, if I recall. There was no need for them to leave England. Certainly, I was angry at the time. It's bloody hard to be tossed aside for your younger brother. But I cared too much for your mother not to want to see her happy, and I dearly loved your father. I realized they were meant for one another, and she would not have been truly content with me. I wonder, even now, if I would have been happy with her as well. Our marriage might well have been an enormous mistake for all three of us. Regardless…"
He heaved a sigh at the memories. "I wrote to him, to them, over and over urging them to return home, but your father had that damnable notion of making his fortune in his head and refused to so much as consider giving it up. He was always certain the next venture, the next speculation, the next investment would be the right one. He and your mother were as stubborn as their son."
"Thank you, Uncle," Nicholas said with a wry smile.
"I had enough then to take care of us all, as I have enough now to take care of you."
"Uncle." A warning sounded in Nicholas's voice.
"Damn it all, boy." A scowl furrowed Frederick's forehead, and he studied his nephew. "I thought traveling the world would settle you down. Make you see that your duty and responsibility lie here in England. Indeed, I thought I had fairly well convinced you somewhere along Calcutta, I think, or perhaps it was in Cairo, to abandon this whole idea."
"It was Casablanca, Uncle," Nick said mildly. "And it was a momentary aberration. I decided upon this course for my life years ago."
"Still, when we returned to London, I was confident you had decided to stay. Yet in the months since our return…" Frederick paused and stared for a long moment.
"Yes?" Nick turned toward his uncle. He knew that look and was not particularly fond of it. Frederick shook his head, his words slow and measured. "I simply find the method in which history chooses to repeat itself exceedingly odd."
Nick raised a brow. "You expect me to fail then? As my father did?"
"On the contrary." Frederick's gaze was steady and level, as if he could see right through his nephew. Knew, in fact, his very thoughts. "I expect you to own the world by the time you return."
"Fine words, Uncle, but I recognize the look in your eye. You have come to some sort of realization."
"Sometimes one fails to see what is right under one's very nose," Frederick murmured.
"Sometimes one's elders are as obtuse as a stone." Nick's tone was sharp, and he adopted a lighter note.
"Come now, what are you thinking?"
Frederick flicked an ash at the saucer provided for that purpose, ignoring the fact that he missed it entirely, then narrowed his eyes and gazed at the younger man. "Your father left England to seek his fortune."
Nick crossed his arms over his chest. "As I am doing."
"And failed."
"As I shall not." Nick's voice was as firm as his conviction. "You shall not see a repeat of history in that respect."
"James left as much because of a woman, your mother, as any desire to make his own way in the world."
"There you have it, Uncle." Unease twisted Nick's stomach, belying the cool smile he forced to his face.
"I am not repeating my father's history, as I am not running off with my brother's fiancee. Although, I confess, I too have an actress…"
Frederick gazed at him silently.
"Very well, then." Nick rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. "It's most distressing to admit, but there is no lady in my life at the moment. None whatsoever."
"I know you better than anyone in this world, and I daresay no one else has noticed, but I have seen the way you look at her," Frederick said quietly.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nick met his uncle's gaze directly. "Or whom you're referring to."
"You do not lie well, boy." Frederick chuckled. "You have never been able to lie to me." Their gazes locked for a long moment. Frederick was right. Even when Nick had been a child, the older man had seen right through whatever tale the boy had concocted. And when his uncle's knowing brown eyes had fastened on Nick then, as they did now, confession had poured from his very soul.
"If you're speaking of Elizabeth Effington, I look at her the way any man looks at a beautiful woman." Nick turned to peruse a shelf of books and clasped his hand behind his back. "It scarcely matters. She is to marry my best friend."
"They are not betrothed."
"Yet." Nick shrugged. "They will be. Before this Christmas has passed, Charles has vowed to ask for her hand."
"I wondered why you were so intent upon leaving before Christmas."
"It seems best." Nick glanced at his uncle over his shoulder. "I will confess, I am intrigued by her, even enchanted. But each minute spent in her presence is a temptation I am hard-pressed to resist. The best way to deal with temptation is to remove it—or, in this instance, remove myself from the temptation." Frederick considered him in silence.
"You needn't stare at me like that, Uncle. Elizabeth is a charming, lovely creature. You cannot fault me for wanting her. But Charles is my closest friend, and she…" Frustration surged through him, and he laughed it away. "This is what was meant to be. For as long as I've known him, Charles has planned to wed Elizabeth. Jonathon expects it, as does everyone in both their families." He shook his head. "Charles is a far better match for her than I in temperament and heritage and all those other things that are taken into account when entering a marriage. Besides, he has loved her always, and I—" Frederick raised a brow. "Have loved her nearly as long?"
Nearly.
"Love? Don't be absurd." Nick snorted in amused disdain, as if the very concept of his loving Elizabeth Effington at all, let alone for much of his life, were ridiculous.
But he had.
She'd been a child when they'd first met and he barely a few years older. She'd ignored him, of course, and he'd ignored her equally well. Jonathon and Charles had become his friends and constant companions. In spite of that, between the years of school and travel, his path had crossed hers infrequently. And while she'd paid him no particular notice when it had, and he, in the way of his male friends, had not deigned to pay her heed, he had always been all too aware of her presence. Of the spark of gaiety in her lovely blue eyes and the joy that echoed in the ring of her laughter. Yes, he had loved her nearly always.
"And what of Elizabeth?" Frederick said slowly. "Does she care for you?"
"Of course not. She loves Charles. She always has. She…" Nick shook his head. "I can't imagine that she has any affection for me at all."
Nick didn't know of her feelings, not really. Did a scant handful of conversations that had begun innocently enough and ended with his revealing things he had never told a soul, thoughts and dreams he hadn't realized he'd had until he'd gazed into her lovely face and heard her own candid responses indicate affection on her part? Did the fact that inevitably when he glanced at her across a room, her gaze would meet his again and again, as if she were looking for him just as he was looking for her, signify a longing that matched his own? And was the shock in her eyes after he'd dared to kiss her maidenly outrage or a silent admission that she'd been as shaken by the moment as he?
It scarcely mattered.
"I daresay if she has any feeling for me whatsoever, they are perhaps those of confusion." He chose his words carefully. "I have not always been as circumspect with her as I have wished. But she is young, and a bit of confusion regarding her feelings in response to the unwarranted attentions of another man, any man, is to be expected."
Confusion brought by his glance and his kiss and a yearning he knew full well he could keep from his face but feared it did indeed show in his eyes.
Frederick snorted. "You are scarcely much older than she."
"Three years, Uncle." Nick set his jaw firmly. "There is a great deal of difference between a man of two and twenty and a woman who is barely nineteen."
"Ah, yes, what was I thinking?" Frederick puffed his cigar in the methodical manner that signified serious thought on the older man's part. Nick braced himself. This discussion was obviously far from over.
"Then you have not spoken to her of your feelings?"
"I have no feelings for her."
His uncle ignored him. "Don't you think you should? Speak to her, that is." Nick grit his teeth. "No, as I have said repeatedly, I have no feelings for her." Frederick pressed on. "But if she feels the same it would be the height of fool—"
"Damn it all, Frederick, I am not my father." Nick glared at his uncle. "I will not fail where he failed, and I will not steal the love of another man's life from him. A man who has been as close to me as any brother."
"You would deny Elizabeth the happiness your mother found with your father?"
"No!" Nick raked his hand through his hair. "I will ensure her happiness. I will guarantee it by leaving her free to be happy with Charles."