Chapter 33
It was only natural that he would tell his best friend that he was getting married.
Nick entered an exclusive men’s club on St. James’s Street.
His membership at White’s had survived the trial because of Lindley’s firm patronage, support, and, Nick suspected, generous bribery.
Inside it was all dark wood and even darker carpets.
He found Lindley sitting with two men, a baron and a viscount.
Lindley spotted him. “Shelton! Come join us.”
“Thank you.” The earl dropped down into a big padded leather chair. A white-coated waiter materialized, and Nick ordered his usual Scotch whiskey.
He was bitter and angry and he knew it. His emotions roiled like hot lava in a volcano. The dialogue he’d just had with Jane—his wife-to-be— was fresh in his mind. “A toast,” he said, smiling, lifting his glass. The three men joined him. “To the actress, London’s Little Angel—soon to be my wife.”
A shocked silence greeted this. The baron looked at the viscount. Nick laughed, imagining their gossip already. The Lord of Darkness (who had killed his wife) was marrying the Little Angel —the actress! Weston’s bastard granddaughter!
And soon Nicole and his relationship to her would be no secret.
More scandal was inevitable. He did not care.
Not for himself, at any rate, and certainly not for that witch, Jane.
(Separate bedrooms—hah! As if he’d touch her with a ten-foot pole!) He cared only about Nicole, and by the time she was old enough to understand it would have long since faded into oblivion.
Lindley was white. “Is this a joke?”
The earl drained his glass, thumped it down. “What’s the matter, Jon? You thinking of marrying belowstairs?”
Lindley just sat and stared.
“I say, old boy,” the baron said, attempting a smile, “this is quite the trick!”
“I’m sure,” Nick said dryly. He suffered their falsely meant congratulations, except for Lindley, who said nothing.
The baron and viscount finally left—no doubt to impart what they had just learned.
Nick looked at his friend. “What? No handshake, no smile, no joy to equal my own?” The words came out terribly twisted.
“It’s because of Nicole,” Lindley said heavily. “Isn’t it?”
Nick looked at him. “How in hell—”
“I found out recently. She made me promise not to tell you. I’m sorry, Nick, but she twisted me around her finger, and once I gave her my word I couldn’t go back on it.”
“You son of a bitch,” the earl managed, shocked. “You weren’t going to tell me I had a daughter? You? My only goddamn friend?”
Lindley rubbed his face. “I was going to try to persuade Jane to tell you herself,” he said.
That eased some of the pain, but a bitter residue was left nonetheless.
“You don’t have to marry her,” Lindley said. “You don’t have to go that far. She … wants to marry you?” His tone was fearful.
The earl felt a soaring jealousy and suddenly disliked his friend intensely. “I am marrying her. I am adopting Nicole and raising her in my household. And no, Jane does not want to marry me, so you can relax. She hates the very idea.”
Relief was visible on Lindley’s features. “But if she isn’t willing—”
“She is my ward. I gave her no choice.”
Lindley was horrified. “Surely you won’t marry her against her will!”
“No?” Nick laughed. “Try me, damn it, just try me.” He lunged to his feet. “Tell me something, Lindley. Am I marrying your mistress?” His lips were twisted in a parody of a smile.
Lindley just stared up at him, then finally shook his head. “No. No.”
The earl turned away abruptly. For the first time in his life, he did not trust Lindley. He doubted him and was sure that he was lying. He wanted to smash something. Preferably her.
She didn’t want him.
As he waited for his coach to be brought round, he was assailed with the inescapable fact. She didn’t want him. Like Patricia, she despised him. Like Patricia, she had left him. Like Patricia, she had hurt him. And once again, he was entering the shackles of marriage to a hate-filled spouse.
But this time he did not love his wife. This time he despised her too.