CHAPTER XIV #3
Nicolet gave a flourishing bow. ‘Enter Marquis, pursued by Grandduchess. Isabelle and I have both been sent by our family to London to make brilliant matches: ideally, she will ensnare one of your fine Prince’s ducal brothers, while I have been sent to make myself pleasant with the Tsar’s fine sister. ’
‘You, however, do not wish to do so?’
‘I wish always to be pleasant,’ he disagreed. ‘But’, he continued, ‘I am far too young and handsome for marriage. It is almost unethical.’
Hetty chose to ignore this last utterance, lest her sympathy vanish entirely. ‘Have you said this to your family?’
‘Oh, I cannot do that,’ Nicolet said with a playful shudder.
‘It would be far too uncomfortable. No, I have a better scheme. If I fall unexpectedly in love with a well-connected English lady of (if you will forgive me) considerable fortune, they would not begrudge me. You have not a title, which is unfortunate. I do not blame you, of course!’ he hastened to assure her.
‘Naturally, had you had some forewarning, you would have sought one.’
‘You wish to court me,’ she surmised, ‘so as to avoid courting anyone else? Do you not worry such a grand deception could be thought rather …’
‘Ingenious?’
‘Wicked,’ Hetty finished.
Nicolet looked at her askance. ‘But, Miss Clithero, consider the conclusion: once this Allerton declares his love for you – in, perhaps, several weeks only? – you shall have your happy ending, I shall be considered heartbroken but blameless and the Grandduchess is free to choose whomever else she likes. All, in short, are content: pray, is that not worth a little deception?’
‘The outcome justifies the deeds,’ Hetty quoted, more to herself than to Nicolet.
‘Just so! You have it exactly!’ he declared. ‘I must say, it is rather refreshing being able to speak to a young lady while knowing there is not the slightest chance she will fall in love with one.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘A rare thing, indeed, for one such as I.’
‘You’ll have to forgive my lack of sympathy.’ Her tart response surprised her, and she would have apologised for her ill manners had Nicolet not laughed.
‘Why aren’t you all the rage?’ he said. ‘I do not understand it – I shall change that, you know. It shouldn’t take me above a week.’
‘It is very kind of you to have such faith in me, but—’
‘I shall introduce you to everyone I know!’
‘Please do not.’
He looked very entertained. ‘You would not enjoy it?’
‘I would sincerely detest it.’
‘Oh.’ He seemed momentarily discomposed, before rallying. ‘Well then, rampant flirtation will have to suffice.’
‘Does it need to be rampant?’ Hetty wondered. ‘Perhaps it could be gentle – subtle even?’
He did not appear to be attending to this. ‘It is agreed then? We will help each other.’
Hetty hesitated. The resemblance between her life and some Shakespearean comedy was growing rather alarming – all one needed was the introduction of a set of twins and the chaos would be complete.
However … she had already tangled herself so far in this mess that extrication was impossible – should she not make use of it?
Was it truly any worse than what she was already doing?
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘We shall help each other.’
As Mademoiselle de Nicolet, twenty paces ahead, admired the foliage of some plant, Nicolet let out a whoop.
‘Once I start courting you, you will soon be a sensation, and then this Allerton will stand up and see!’ He spread a hand out in front of him, as if to gesture to the magnificent future that lay ahead, with such panache that Hetty could not help but laugh.
It was not the last time she was to do so that morning – laugh, that is.
She found, to her pleasure, that she was able to speak to Nicolet quite as easily as she could the Morgans – more easily, even, for Nicolet was so entirely within her confidence.
Perhaps because they had encountered each other under such strange circumstances, a precipitous intimacy had sprung up, overcoming her usual awkwardness.
As they circled around the gardens, she found herself chattering away quite happily.
‘I am almost jealous of our fictional selves,’ he said when he set her back down at Berkeley Square, ‘capering around Vienna together. We would have had a fine time.’
She hushed him hurriedly. ‘Mind our surroundings,’ she implored him, looking pointedly to his footman. ‘And, I beg you, try to recollect that we first met in Rome. You cannot blame it on the language again.’
‘But the English language is so very difficult!’ he objected, deepening his accent such that it could have carpeted the entirety of Berkeley Square.
‘Don’t you think the accent is rather offensive?’ she remonstrated.
‘Ah, but can one offend one’s own people?’ he wondered.
‘I’m not sure about “one”,’ she said, ‘but you have certainly managed it.’
He let out a shout of laughter loud enough that Arthur, inside his study, heard it. He approached the window, gazing down to the pavement. Nicolet, looking up, raised a hand in a jaunty wave that caused Arthur to feel a flash of irritation.
He was not, he decided, at all sure about this fellow. Not in the least.