Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Nerissa’s mouth fell open; unsure whether she would speak, and if she would, could she? And if she could, what in God’s name would she say?
The moment dragged out and she could not look away from those fiery dark blue eyes, and the more that she looked at Count Anthony the more her body tingled and grow hot.
“I…” was all she managed until she was saved by the interruption of the judge.
Count Anthony turned around quickly and the connection was broken, and it was only then that Nerissa realised that she had been holding her breath for that long moment.
Air, wonderful air, rushed back into her lungs and she clutched at her chest, the pain was so sharp.
“I consider this case closed, and the court room will empty,” he snapped, rising so hurriedly that the gallery of onlookers had to jump to their feet to pay their respects as he swept out of the room.
The mutterings had now risen to loud chatter and laughter, as the people of Port Royal started to discuss animatedly the decision that Judge Matthews had made.
Nerissa sat quietly, shaking her head slightly as though it were filled with water. If she was not mistaken, something terrible and glorious had happened, a moment in time that was golden and yet painful, between herself and that Count.
What a strange man he was. She lifted a hand to her ear, checking that her diamond earrings were still there, as though the fierceness of his gaze could have dislodged them. She was disorientated, that was true, but more than anything, she wanted to see Anthony again – Count Anthony, that was.
Nerissa found herself smiling, and forced it away. What was she thinking? Speak again to the man who had just publicly attempted to ruin her father?
It was only then that she realised that she was the last to remain seated in the gallery, and she rose quickly, reticule in hand, to descend the staircase towards the door out into the hot afternoon.
Her footsteps seemed shaky, slightly wooden, as though she barely had control of her own feet.
As though at any moment, she would tip down the stairs and fall, fall to the bottom with no way of stopping herself.
Nerissa blinked, and shook her head slightly once more. This was ridiculous; she was not going to fall, and she had more than enough control to walk down a few steps!
She stopped dead when she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Count Anthony still sitting at the front of the court room, head in his hands.
Suddenly overwhelmed with a degree of anger that Nerissa had not even realise was possible to brew in one person’s heart, she strode over to him.
“You!”
Count Anthony raised his head, astonishment and a little confusion reflected in his face. “Me, madam?”
Nerissa had reached him far quicker than she had anticipated and had cornered him, standing between him and the door. Her heart was thumping in her chest, but she knew that this time it was anger, righteous anger. What else could it be?
“What on earth do you think you are doing?”
He blinked at her, as though she was speaking in a foreign language. “I…I thought I was getting justice for – ”
“Justice!” Nerissa scoffed, her hands on her hips now. “Picking on a man double your age?”
“Double – double my…what?” Count Anthony spluttered. “My dear lady, it does not matter how old a person is, surely, if they have done wrong?”
Nerissa glared at him. “My father did nothing wrong, nothing at all, and so a judge has found in a court of law. Any action that he did or did not take was not personal to you, or anyone else for that matter, and yet you come careening in here, demanding retribution! You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Retri-retribution!” He stared at her as though she were mad, and then rose from his seat.
Nerissa stared straight before her, which now he had taken to his feet, was his chest. She swallowed, and tasted fear and bile in her throat.
She had not quite realised just how tall he was, taller than her and she was hardly a petite woman.
There was something about him; a presence, a masculinity that she had never encountered before.
And how would she? The only man she knew well was her own father.
“I would not have to even consider taking action against anyone, let alone taking a person to court,” Anthony hissed quietly, his eyes never wavering from her own, “if your father – yes, your father! – had not been negligent. He has left people in poverty, Miss Fairchild, because of his inaction. It pains me to tell you so, as his daughter, but I at least will not peddle falsehoods in a court room!”
Nerissa glared at him, outraged, her head tilted slightly back so that she could try to look him in the eye – but it was difficult. She had a strong will, she was famed for it here in Port Royal; but this man … this man could outlook the sun, he was so determined.
And it was impossible to ignore the glimmer of shame that was creeping up on her. Poverty was a strong word, a strong accusation. Surely this man, this Count would not say such things unless he had real proof, unless he was utterly convinced that her father was to blame?
Could he really have left people in poverty?
There was a strange sound now, and it grated on her very soul. It was Count Anthony laughing bitterly.
“You did not know? You did not realise that I was not the only one involved in this scandal?”
Nerissa blanched at the word scandal but did not trust her voice to speak.
Count Anthony shook his head sadly as his wry laugh disappeared.
“Oh, Miss Fairchild. I did not think that I, of all people, would be the one to tell you this, and for that you have my sincerest apologies. No, there were far more people than purely myself who have lost money in this catastrophe, far more. I am one of the lucky ones, if you can call a man who has lost every penny to his name lucky.”
He swept a hand through his dark blond hair distractedly, and Nerissa tried to straighten out her thinking. This was just his word against her father’s, just another way of attempting to convince her that her father was guilty.
“I still have my land and my manor – the family estate,” he said bitterly.
“They will fetch a pretty price on the open market, I warrant you. Daemarrel Manor has been desired by many noble and wealthy families for generations. But others? Well, it will be the poorhouse for them, God save their souls.”
Nerissa stared into his eyes, and she saw nothing but truth there. Why would he lie? What gain could it bring him to pretend?
For a moment, a shining moment in time, her heart softened as she looked at him, this ruined count with nothing but a manor to his name. The thought of others entering the poorhouse, or heaven forbid the workhouse, because of a blunder, an accident of her father’s…
“Is…is that true?” She whispered, but before he could answer, her heart once again hardened as her eyes picked out the solid gold watch on a chain on his waistcoat.
Poor, indeed? This man had a great deal to learn about poverty.
“In any case, one person cannot possibly be held for other people’s actions.
There were hundreds of people working for the Olympic Shipping Company, my father was not the only – ”
“Your father was the Financial Director!” Count Anthony interrupted, his face hard now, and he took a step forward.
Nerissa, overwhelmed by his closeness, tried to take a step back but found that she could not. Her feet seemed to be nailed down to the floor, and instead she looked up into Count Anthony’s handsome and furious face.
“Bankruptcy was never part of the plan, never part of my life or anyone in my family’s life until your father …
,” Count Anthony said in a dark and fierce voice, and as though unable to help himself, he grabbed her hand with his right hand.
“Now I am stuck here, stuck in this place of poverty and misery, and it is all your father’s fault! ”
Nerissa could feel the heat of his hand on her arm, like a vice around her, but it was more than just the heat of another person. It was something different, something that seemed to resonate between them, a spark, a heat, a fire that she had never felt before.
She could feel her cheeks starting to glow pink, and her mouth was dry, and she wanted to speak but what would she say?
The urge to lean closer to Count Anthony rose up within her from an unbidden place, and she swayed slightly, and she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something that looked like desire – but that couldn’t possibly be.
Nerissa snatched her arm away and stumbled backwards. She glared at the man who seemed to have such a terrible and wonderful control over her, and whispered, “You should never have come here.”
Anthony stared, heart pounding in his chest, as Miss Nerissa Fairchild stormed out of the court room in a flurry of skirts and anger. He swallowed and found that his arm was still outstretched, as though he was still holding onto her.
He had never been shouted at by a woman before – and he had never enjoyed anything so much. By God, it was exhilarating, glorious, and for a wild moment he took a few steps towards the door in pursuit of her.
A woman like that, one who dared to defend such a father in public, to argue with him, a gentleman that she did not know and certainly could not trust – a woman like that would be worth pursuing.
But then a shadow moved across the light pouring through the open door, and Anthony saw that it was Mr Fairchild himself.
His heart hardened. No matter what his delectable daughter said, there was no doubt in Anthony’s mind that it was Mr Fairchild who had brought about the ruin of the Strathams, and so many others.
Arm falling to his side, his hand clenched into a fist. If the justice that he was determined to have was to be denied him by the law, well…he would simply have to take his revenge in another way.
Miss Nerissa Fairchild, for instance. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, and there was enough fresh and innocent craving in her face when she looked at him to be getting on with. It would surely be easy, deliciously so, to seduce her and teach her the pleasures of the flesh…
…and leave her completely ruined.
What a catastrophe that would be.