Dangerous Lover, page 20
“May I see?” Ralph asked, reaching across the table.
Tizsa shoved it toward him and sipped his port.
Ralph flicked through it. “Conditions of the poor again,” he observed with a shade of impatience.
“From a medical perspective,” Tizsa pointed out.
“Why do you say ‘again’?” Nicholas asked.
Ralph gave a crooked smile and reached into his pocket. “I was going to ask you, Nicholas, what you thought of that. It seems to be more of the same. Intentionally or not, fomenting unrest and revolution.”
Nicholas took it, and Tizsa dragged his chair closer in order to peer at it, too.
“It’s not the same thing at all,” Tizsa stated, saving Nicholas the trouble. “One is a factual account. Yours is more political. Neither, in my opinion, are in any danger of arousing revolution.”
“Seriously?” Ralph demanded. “If you tell the poor they’re downtrodden often enough, they will grow to resent it!”
“The poor already know they’re downtrodden,” Tizsa retorted. “I would say, though, that both these pamphlets are aimed at the rich and the powerful. Who, if they are not already aware, need to be made so.”
“Isn’t that how you bring about revolution?” Ralph snapped back. “Make the powerful aware of the danger of the supposedly powerless?”
“A directed mob can be frightening,” Tizsa allowed—speaking, presumably as one who had done his share of directing. “English mobs only riot. There is no direction. And there is nothing in my pamphlet that tries to do so.”
“Perhaps not,” Ralph said grudgingly, “but the other sails too close to the wind for my taste. It must be illegal.”
“That is probably true,” Tizsa allowed. “At least in so far as it has no printer’s mark.” He shrugged. “Where did you get it?”
“It was pushed under my front door.” Ralph was clearly outraged, which made Nicholas smile faintly.
Tizsa glanced from one to the other. “What do you think of it, Sir Nicholas? Will you treat your workers better on the strength of it?”
“My workers are pretty well treated as it is. I am hoping it rubs off on other employers.”
“They’ll just undercut you,” Ralph said.
Nicholas shrugged. “But I have happier and more productive workers.”
Ralph adopted a faint sneer. “I don’t see you giving away all your wealth to the masses.”
“Oh, I give away a fair bit,” Nicholas murmured.
Ralph flushed painfully. “I suppose I deserved that. You were not here when Papa died. What was I supposed to do?”
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” Nicholas pointed out. “You don’t need to be so defensive. I shan’t demand you pay it all back to the estate. You deserve a share.”
Ralph paused in his angry reach for the decanter. “I am glad you see it that way.” He poured himself more port before he raised his gaze to Nicholas’s. “Will you further agree that I continue to live in the Brook Street house?”
Nicholas shrugged. “It seems to have become your home more than it was ever mine.”
Ralph relaxed visibly. “Thank you. That has been preying on our minds.”
“Don’t thank me too soon. I will make you an allowance from the estate, Ralph, but I’m taking back control.”
“Damn it, you don’t need that money,” Ralph said irritably. “The world knows you have pots more!”
“Which I earned,” Nicholas pointed out.
Ralph’s chin came out. “I earned my share. I remained with Papa. I put up with him. I looked after the estate when he died.”
Nicholas blinked sleepily. “If by looking after it, you mean you spent it…”
“When was the last time you were in Sussex?” he demanded.
“Last month, as you would know if you troubled to read the steward’s reports. Look, Ralph, I’m not depriving you of anything except the misplaced notion that you deserve anything. You won’t go short. You’ll have Brook Street and an allowance, and I’ll pay for the education of your children. Beyond that, you’re on your own.” As I have been since I was nineteen years old.
He closed his mouth, refusing to speak the last thought, which was petty as well as self-pitying, and he had no wish to be either. Instead, he raised his glass and smiled. “Cheer up, Ralph. Admit it’s more than you hoped for when you saw me arrive on your doorstep.”
After an instant’s glare, Ralph smiled reluctantly. “Damn you.”
“By all means.”
Ralph let out a bark of laughter and glanced at the silent Tizsa. “I’m sorry you had to witness our quarrel.”
“Don’t be. I am frequently deaf and always discreet.”
“Perhaps we should join the ladies,” Nicholas suggested. “And see if we can persuade them to indulge us in some music.”
He had thought of spending more time over the port and trying to discover if Ralph or Tizsa or both were suspicious of him. He tried not to care, but he liked Tizsa, and Ralph, in spite of everything, was his brother. He should have been used to betrayal, but somehow, he never was. However, something insistent was pulling him toward the drawing room and Alexandra Battle, to soak in the comfort of her presence, to hear her play, watch her expressions… Just to be in the same room had become a treat he looked forward to.
Except, it seemed a treat now and again was no longer enough. He had liked seeing her at the opposite end of his table, an unassuming, dignified presence. It had made him wonder what life would be like now without her. Evelina would miss her. He would miss her.
And yet he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him.
Stepping into the drawing room, his hungry gaze found her at once, and at just the right moment. Her face, quietly, austerely beautiful, was turned toward the door, lit in a moment of laughter as she glanced at Lady Griz in a teasing, humorous way that was as rare as it was delightful. He could not help the smile curving his own lips.
Her gaze flickered to him, and their eyes met. She looked away again almost at once, but a delicate, tell-tale flush seeped into her neck and cheeks. A fierce surge of triumph exploded through him because she was not indifferent. That he could affect her melted his bones.
And yet she had brought a man into this house, her supposed cousin, a man important enough to her to be shown out personally, not left to the servants. Nicholas was not proud of his twinge of jealousy, but he waited impatiently to be told about him, who he was, what he was to her.
None of your business, Nicholas Swan, he scolded himself impatiently, then turned to his sister-in-law, who was closest to the piano. “Are you musically inclined, Gertrude? Do you play?”
After a pretty show of reluctance, and the persuasion of her husband, who informed the company how gifted she was, Gertrude submitted gracefully and played and sang a pleasant French song.
Gifted she was not, but she had skill enough to charm most ears.
“Perhaps we could persuade you to another?” Alexandra suggested when the appreciative applause died down.
“Oh, you are too kind to ask me again. In truth, I do not wish to be late home with the children, and we have not yet heard Lady Grizelda. Your husband was telling me how musical you are.”
Lady Griz cast a quick glance at her husband that spoke of unexpected and oddly endearing doubt. Then, the doubt vanished into something that wasn’t quite mischief, but a mixture of relief and calculation.
“I do love music, but I hate to play in public,” Griz said frankly. “But if we played a duet, Alexandra?”
Alexandra’s eyes widened in clear alarm. “Oh, no, I was about to ring for tea since Mrs. Swan—”
“I shall ring for tea,” Sir Nicholas said. “You ladies must play.”
“The Spanish piece?” Griz suggested, walking to the guitar that was propped up against one of the piano legs.
Alexandra opened her mouth, clearly to object. She even glanced at Nicholas rather wildly, perhaps for moral support, but for motives he did not wish to analyze right now, he wanted her to shine.
“We are all ears, ladies.”
Gertrude was no doubt appalled to have to listen to the governess, but she could hardly go against her host’s request without insulting Lady Grizelda. That amused Nicholas, too.
He placed a chair beside the piano for Griz and then stood back. He wanted to watch Alexandra as they played, but, knowing it would draw too much attention to both of them, he opted for discretion and watched the effect of the music on his other guests instead.
He already knew Alexandra to be a highly skilled musician, but Griz with her guitar was the perfect foil. They had clearly played together often, for the music flowed and harmonized in perfect tune and perfect time. Gertrude kept a fixed smile on her face. Tizsa, usually difficult to read, looked rapt. Only Ralph, who had never been musical, seemed untouched by the performance.
As for Nicholas, the music plucked at his emotions, sending them into turmoil, and yet his heart soared with pride in her.
Pride and something else. But he would not think of that here and now. Something was changing, in him, in his life, and he could not stop it.
When their piece was finished, Alexandra stood immediately, smiling distantly and leaving Griz to take the applause, while she went at once to the tea tray which had just been brought in.
His heart warm, he ferried cups and saucers from Alexandra’s hands to his guests. And then he sat in the vacant space beside her, half a foot away from touching her and yet glorying in her nearness like a schoolboy with his first love.
The children were fetched down from the schoolroom, all but the baby, who was apparently fast asleep with his nurse. The cousins appeared to be the best of friends, and Evelina ran excitedly from him to Alexandra, who murmured something to her that stopped her bouncing. Instead, she and her cousins retreated to a corner for a bit more chortling. And only a few minutes later, the guests departed.
For his brother and himself, it was, Nicholas supposed, a step in the right direction. They had grown so far apart they would never be friends, but they could be cordial, and he hoped they would look out for each other. For Evelina and her cousins, things seemed much more ecstatic. Alexandra was right. The child had been deprived of friends for too long. Perhaps there was a way to introduce her to the neighbors’ children, invite them for a picnic in the garden, perhaps, with Alexandra and Anna to supervise.
“I’ll take her up to bed,” Alexandra murmured on the stairs. “It has been an exciting evening for her.”
“Join me once she is settled,” he said, strolling toward the drawing room. He didn’t want to command her like an employer, but it was the only way he could be sure she would obey.
Of course, the drawing room was dangerous. This was where he had kissed her. Desire swept through him. Perhaps the library would be better. But that was where he had first seen her, where he had almost kissed her. More than once.
The room scarcely mattered. He would not kiss her tonight. But there were things he wanted to know. Or at least, so he told himself. He suspected he merely wanted another half hour, another few minutes, in her company.
He was standing by the window with the curtain pulled back, gazing out at nothing but darkness when she knocked at the door.
“Come in,” he said impatiently. “You do not need to knock.”
It was no way to begin a delicate interview. Nor was he even sure why her knock irritated him. She entered with her eyes cast down, understandably annoyed to be addressed in such a way but unable or unwilling to answer her employer back. Shame drowned his spurt of temper, and he raked his hand through his hair before striding to the brandy decanter.
“Actually, I wanted to thank you for being such an excellent hostess tonight. Would you care for a nightcap?”
When he glanced at her, her gaze was on him, wary but unafraid.
“Thank you,” she said calmly.
Taking that for assent, he splashed brandy into two clean glasses and brought her one. She took it without touching his fingers and immediately stepped back. He waved her to a chair, unreasonably disappointed when she did not take the sofa.
“I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable,” he said, sitting on the edge of the sofa.
“No. At a family dinner, I’m sure everyone understood it to be a matter of convenience. In other situations, though, it would not be good for your reputation or mine. Let alone Evelina’s.”
He frowned. “You believe me such a careless friend that I would do such a thing to you?”
“You are not my friend at all,” she said calmly. “You are my employer.”
Stupidly, it felt like a blow in the gut. He managed a faint smile. “I hope I am both.”
Her gaze fell. She said nothing. He had a feeling he was digging a hole for himself that had no bottom, so he changed tack.
“At any rate, I hope you at least enjoyed the evening.”
“Actually, yes, I did. Thank you for letting me be there.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he burst out. “When did Alexandra Battle become so damned humble?”
Her eyes flew up to his. “You are angry with me.”
He drew in his breath. “No. No, of course, I am not. I seem to be on edge, but I should not be taking it out on you.” He stretched his glass across to hers. “I apologize.”
At least she did not hesitate before she clinked her glass against his and sat back. “Your brother upsets you.”
“No. Well, perhaps. He disappointed me a long time ago. But I still remember the boy who I thought looked up to me. Perhaps I disappointed him when I left him in pursuit of love.”
Although he spoke with deliberate lightness, her eyes told him she came close to understanding the unbearable hurts that had piled onto him then. He had never expected his father to forgive him, but Ralph’s silence had hurt. Nora’s spectacularly quick abandonment had shattered him. But it was so long ago, he had almost forgotten. And he didn’t regret Nora, who, in the end, had turned into a good friend.
He drank from his glass, then waved it expansively, dismissing what had gone before. “Water under the bridge. Tell me instead about your day.”
“It was quiet. Evelina worked well, and we walked to the Strand where she bought those ribbons she wore this evening and came home through the market for a change. She likes her cousins.”
“Yes, I am glad.” He waited, but she said nothing further. His heart twisted. Who was this man she chose to hide from him? “James told me you had a visitor. A cousin?”
“Oh! Yes, he dropped in for half an hour. He is just passing through London.” Her fingers crossed over each other on the glass. Perhaps she thought he would not see.
He hoped she would not see the furious jealousy twisting through him in response.
“A pity. I would have liked to meet another member of your family. What is his name?”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your cousin’s name. It is not a difficult question.”
For the first time in this interview, her eyes flashed. He was relieved to glimpse the sign of spirit, like an old, missing friend.
“Not difficult,” she retorted, “But not necessary either. I apologize for meeting family under your roof. It won’t happen again.”
“That isn’t what I mean, and you know it.”
“Then you are guilty of prying, and that is worse.”
“Do you have a reason to keep him secret?”
“No, of course not. But I have a right to privacy.”
“So you will not tell me?”
She lifted her chin. “I will not.” As she met his gaze, her breath caught, and she looked more miserable than anything. “You have secrets, too!” she said defensively, uncannily like a child claiming she had not started the quarrel.
He laughed. “Hardly! I live openly with my sins and their results—Evelina and Lady Nora in this very house.”
She blushed furiously, adorably. “I do not refer to the affairs of the heart, which are obviously no one else’s business.”
“Then what?” he asked, intrigued, and not a little relieved by the implication that she did not regard her mysterious visitor in such a light.
“The machinery in your cellar.”
That wiped the smile from his face, and he saw by the flash of triumph in her eyes that she saw it. “The machinery in my cellar,” he repeated. “Where did you get such an idea?”
“From my ears,” she retorted. “I hear it, sometimes, a rhythmic clanking sound that almost sounded like rattling chains. I was looking for the source of it the first night I was here.”
His smile came back quite naturally. “When you accosted me in the library, in your nightgown.”
“You accosted me,” she retorted, and his smile widened, causing her to drag her gaze free.
“I suppose I did,” he admitted. “Did I ever apologize? I had one brandy too many, and, at the risk of sounding like a coxcomb, I am used to women trying to inveigle me into marriage—or less honorable unions—by fair means and foul. For Evelina’s sake, I am glad you turned out to be such a straightlaced governess.”
“That was your apology?” she asked politely.
“No, that was my excuse. But I am sorry, and I do apologize.”
“Then what on earth is it you do in the cellar at night?” A challenge tilted her chin, and she blurted, “That you are afraid of Inspector Harris discovering?”
Et tu, Brute. His lips twisted. So did his heart. “Tying up small boys and watching their chains rattle. Of course.” He dashed the remains of his brandy down his throat and almost threw the glass on the table as he surged to his feet. He could not bring himself to look at her expression as he snatched up her hand and pulled her up beside him. “Come then, learn my grizzly secret. I’m about to break it all up anyway. With Harris poking around and friends and employees denouncing me, I shall have to put an end to it.”
Surprise got her across the room, all but trotting to keep up with his longer stride. At the door, she made one instinctive move to be free and, ashamed, he loosened his grip. But he didn’t let her go, and she didn’t resist again. Instead, she let him pull her on, running downstairs at his side, across the deserted hall to the back door that led to the garden. But in the wall perpendicular to that, stood another door that was not visible at all when the garden door was opened.
