Chapter 4 #2
Nicolas stepped across the threshold and trailed the man at a short distance, distracted a bit by looking around at his surroundings.
There were many portraits hung about the halls, depicting Lord Corvin and a woman whom Nicolas presumed to be his wife.
Two girls, both with dark hair and dark eyes, were featured in several prominent frames.
There was not a trace of Lady Victoria on these walls.
He turned away from his gawking and realized that he had lost the doorman. Unfortunate, he thought, but kept walking in the direction he thought the man had gone.
Rounding a corner, he all but collided with another person.
“Pardon me,” he said, stumbling backward and adjusting his jacket. The person brushed past him and kept walking. He turned and caught sight of a blonde-haired woman striding back the way he’d come. “Lady Victoria?”
She turned the corner out of sight.
He knew he should’ve been attending his meeting with Lord Corvin, but he rushed after the woman’s retreating figure instead. “Lady Victoria, is that you?” he called out.
If it was indeed her, she did not respond to him, but Nicolas was not one to be deterred.
By now, he was certain that the blonde walking quickly away from him was, in fact, Lady Victoria; there was no mistaking it.
He picked up the pace and managed to catch the woman by the elbow, turning her in his direction.
He was hardly able to feel satisfied that he had properly identified her when her green eyes locked onto his own blue ones. Those eyes were narrowed at him.
Was she… angry?
“Are you here to negotiate the terms of your purchase?” she said, her voice as icy as that stare.
Nicolas hesitated for only a moment before smiling cheekily. “Well, good morning to you, too, Lady Victoria,” he said.
“It was,” she said, and turned to leave.
He held fast to her arm, vaguely aware that it was probably improper for him to be touching her so.
“Hey, now,” he said, oozing as much charm and confidence into his tone as he could.
His instinct, as usual, was to smooth over any rough edges in conversation.
“That’s no way to speak to your future husband. ”
He was joking when he said it, but it was clear from the darkening of her expression that the joke did not land.
“It was a joke,” he said lamely, smile faltering a moment before sliding back into place.
She did not blink. “And you love yourself a joke, don’t you?”
Nicolas’s brows furrowed. “Pardon me?”
“You must have found it hilarious, how I confessed that I did not wish to marry, only for you to buy me from my father.” She sniffed. Was a thousand pounds the pre-determined asking price? Or a spur-of-the-moment decision?”
Nicolas, hand still wrapped around her elbow, took a step back from her to look her fully up and down. She was dressed simply in a beige gown, her hair neatly pinned atop her head. Unassuming. Were she out in public, he likely wouldn’t have looked twice in her direction.
But then again, he wouldn’t have been able to see those striking green eyes from a distance.
“You’re mad at me,” he said slowly, probing for an explanation.
Her lips twisted into a scowl. “Of course I’m mad at you!”
His mind was racing, struggling to piece it all together.
She had been desperate for help only a few nights before, seeking someone to save her from her unfortunate situation, and what had he done?
Saved her. Those other men were no good; Nicolas may have been a bit of a rake, but at least he wouldn’t treat her poorly.
“You would rather your hand be bought by one of those other men, is that it?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Your anger is misplaced, my lady; take your frustration out on your father.”
She stepped toward him, those green eyes blazing. “I will take my frustration out on both of you!”
In spite of himself, he was getting wrapped up in the tension in the room, with the vitriol she was putting off. “What would you have had me do?” he snapped.
What else could he have done? Leave her there to be forced into a marriage with a disgraced old man, or a young, faithless cad? Her father had offered her up for a price; was it Nicolas’s fault for making an offer? How else could he have helped?
“I would have had you not make a deal with my father!”
They were standing so close together that he could feel the brush of her gown’s fabric against the legs of his trousers.
Her face was tilted up toward him, her fists clenched at her sides.
He was still holding her wrist, unconscious of how his grip had tightened as he leaned in toward her, close enough for their noses to almost touch.
Her glare was fierce; he was certain his own had heat to match it.
He exhaled slowly, watched his breath flutter the short blonde strands along her hairline. He could smell the soap she had used, the gentle floral scent that clung to her skin. “You would ask too much of me,” he said, his voice low.
She matched his volume, her heated gaze never leaving his. “And you would not ask enough.”
“Your Grace, there you are!”
In an instant, Nicolas’s fingers released Lady Victoria’s elbow. Now free, she turned on her heel and darted away, just as Lord Corvin entered the room. He didn’t even have time to bid her farewell.
“My doorman says he lost you on the walk to my study,” Lord Corvin said, and Nicolas slowly turned to face him. “My apologies, sir, this home can be a bit of a maze at times.”
Nicolas glanced over his shoulder, as if he could still catch a glimpse of his future bride. He could not. He sighed. “No matter,” he said, looking back to Lord Corvin again.
The older man smiled; it did not reach his eyes. “Let us discuss details, then, shall we?”