Chapter 8
When Albert brought Nicholas a note while he was at the breakfast table, his first thought was that it would be from another one of his former paramours, inviting him to some kind of tryst.
As such, it took inordinately long for him to persuade himself to open the note, since he didn’t feel like entertaining any women. When he finally gave in, he recognized Sophie’s name down at the bottom almost immediately, and his eyebrows flew up.
She wanted to meet with him.
Privately.
What on earth for?
If the note had come from a different lady of the ton, he might have thought they were trying to seduce him or trap him into marriage.
Obviously, that would not be the case with Sophie.
She was far too straightforward to play such games. If she said she wanted to talk with him, then there was something she wished to discuss.
It was that simple.
Still, that didn’t quell his curiosity.
He finished his breakfast and took the note upstairs, where he sat at his desk and stared at it for a good long while as he tried to decipher just what she might want from him.
Eventually, he gave up his guessing game and wrote a short reply to advise her that she could visit in the early afternoon, at which time Kate and Theo would be out of the house, calling on Lady Drake.
He was tempted to add a postscript that she ought not to forget a maid but decided against it. He trusted that, as unusual as this meeting request might be, she didn’t have any nefarious intentions.
They were friends.
She wouldn’t trap him. She had more decency than that.
He folded the note in half, sealed it, and gave it to Albert with instructions to get it to Lady Sophie as quickly as possible.
That done, he changed into his riding clothes and wandered down to the stables. Blackheart was kept at Hensley rather than here, so Nicholas couldn’t take him out for a ride without dropping by the racecourse.
He didn’t have enough time for the round trip, so instead he saddled Pepper, a gelding with a gleaming brown coat, and guided him off the property and toward the park.
They clopped along the road at a reasonable pace, bypassing the main entrance to Hyde Park and entering through a second, less popular pathway used more often by riders than those out for an afternoon stroll.
As he urged the horse into a canter, Nicholas couldn’t help wishing his clothing were slightly lighter colored. With the cloudless sky and the sun burning down, his dark clothes trapped the heat and quickly became plastered to his body.
It was unseasonably warm. He didn’t doubt in the slightest the claims that there would be a drought this year. Hopefully Theo had taken them into account and was making plans to ensure their land in Oxfordshire would be supplied with water throughout the drier months.
A couple of riders appeared, coming from the other direction. One man raised his hand and hailed Nicholas, who slowed. Peering through the brightness, he managed to make out the familiar figures of Chisholm and Archibald.
“Great day for it,” Chisholm called as they drew nearer.
“Indeed,” Nicholas agreed. “Too hot to race, but there’s nothing wrong with a steady canter.”
Chisholm’s expression turned sly. “Especially not when our friend here is trying to avoid wedding planning.”
“Oh?” Nicholas turned to Archibald. “Are they still determined that you participate?”
Archibald shrugged. “I’ve decided it’s best to remain out of sight as much as possible when my future mother-in-law is in the vicinity. That said, I believe that wedding invitations will be forthcoming—likely arriving this week—and you will both be receiving one.”
“I look forward to it.” Contrary to what many people thought, Nicholas did enjoy weddings. At least, he did as long as both participants wanted to be there. They were happy affairs with food and alcohol—what wasn’t to like?
Of course, Theo’s wedding had been a tad uncomfortable for him because Theo hadn’t wished to marry and was coerced into it because of Nicholas. Guilt had threatened to swallow him whole, but he’d also firmly believed that Kate could make Theo happy.
The whole thing had been very confusing.
“Where is the ceremony being held?” Nicholas asked.
Chisholm groaned. “No. We aren’t talking about weddings today.” He tipped his hat to Nicholas. “It was good to see you, Blackwell, but we’re going to continue on our way.”
Nicholas nodded in acknowledgement and guided Pepper around them. He rode from one side of the park to the other, then circled around and returned to Blackwell House.
He slipped off the horse, gave him into the care of a stablehand, and headed inside in a rather pleasant mood.
“I have a missive for you, Master Nicholas,” Albert called, hurrying toward him with a sealed note that looked the same as the one he had received earlier.
Nicholas took it from him. “Thank you, Albert.”
He opened it on the way up the stairs, then read the text before pocketing it. In his bedchamber, he checked the clock. It was nearly two o’clock, which meant that, according to her note, Sophie would be here soon.
Backtracking out of his room, he found a maid and requested a basin of water for his room and a tray of tea and scones with jam to be sent to the receiving room in anticipation of her visit.
He returned to his room and stripped out of his clothing. He wrapped a towel around his waist just as a footman entered with his basin of water.
“Set it there, please,” Nicholas said, motioning to a washstand.
The footman did so and left, closing the door behind him.
Nicholas used a clean cloth to wash himself and added a little of the scent he preferred before calling Barlow to help him dress in attire appropriate to meet with a debutante.
Freshly clad in a tidy black waistcoat, matching pants, and a pale blue shirt, Nicholas made his way down to the receiving room just as Alfred escorted Lady Sophie into the foyer.
He blinked, caught off guard by her appearance. He almost hadn’t recognized her. She was dressed more drably than usual, in a nondescript brown dress, her hair braided and unadorned.
She flashed him a grin that didn’t match her attire in the slightest.
“You’re very punctual,” Nicholas remarked, taking her arm and walking with her into the receiving room. Sophie’s maid wandered behind them, keeping enough distance that they could speak without having their every word overheard.
She laughed. “I try.”
“I can’t help but notice that this isn’t your usual style.” He released her and waved his hand up and down her person. “Have you decided to lose your sense of taste?”
“I am trying to go unnoticed. You don’t have to be rude about it.”
“So, did you bring an unmarked carriage?” He was curious how much she’d thought this through.
She scoffed. “Of course.”
“Good. So, why the cloak-and-dagger routine?”
She glanced at the door, so he went over and closed it. The maid had sat in the far corner of the room and was doing her best to pretend they didn’t exist.
The food tray he’d requested was resting on a small round table, so he crossed to it and poured two cups of tea, then added plenty of sugar to hers.
“Would you like a scone with jam and clotted cream?” he asked. “They’re freshly made.”
“I would love one, but I can get it myself.” Sophie came over and scooped a large dollop of jam onto a scone, followed by a generous portion of clotted cream.
She bit into the scone, and cream smeared on her lip.
When her tongue darted out to clean it, blood rushed to his groin, and he had to look away.
Fuck, he shouldn’t be staring at his sister-in-law’s best friend’s sweet little tongue. He definitely shouldn’t be wondering how it might feel licking down his cock.
“I have a request to make of you.” Her voice was slow and soft. Entirely too tempting.
He gulped. “I am afraid that if it’s of a salacious nature, I cannot indulge. It would upset Kate, which would in turn upset Theo.”
She chuckled huskily, attracting his gaze back to her like iron to a magnet. “It’s nothing like that.”
Nicholas’s gut plummeted. Was he… disappointed? Did he want to do salacious things with Sophie?
Surely not.
To distract himself, he added jam and cream to a scone of his own and took his time eating it.
Sophie finished hers and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I must marry, and soon.”
He frowned. That, he hadn’t expected. “Why?”
“Because my parents have decreed it must be so.” She didn’t sound pleased. “They think that my reluctance to accept any of the offers that have been made to me so far have rendered me unappealing to most of the ton.”
“Nonsense.”
“I assure you, they believe it.”
She went on to explain her parents’ ultimatum, and horror twisted in his gut with each word from her mouth.
What a terrible situation to be in, backed into a corner where her only possible decision was to try to find her own husband before she was reduced to choosing from a list of suitable candidates provided by her mother.
“Where do I come into this?” he asked, hopeful that he might be able to help somehow.
She toyed with the corner of her napkin. “It’s come to my attention that gentlemen are more likely to court a woman if a man that they admire shows his preference for her. I need suitors, and you are the closest thing I have to an unmarried male friend.”
“I should hope so,” he mumbled. Young ladies weren’t generally encouraged to have male friends.
She shot him a look. “You’re charismatic, and I’m sure that men look up to you. Your lack of interest in debutantes is also well-known, so it would make me seem more intriguing if I captured your interest. Would you consider pretending to court me so that others might follow suit?”
What?
Of all the things he’d thought she might ask, that hadn’t featured on the list.
He stared at her.
Blinked.
Stared some more.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked eventually.
Her jaw ticked. “Will you feign a courtship of me?”