Chapter 11 #2
Fortunately, Lucas Archibald stood nearby with a short, slightly plump brunette. Nicholas made his way over, plastering a friendly smile on his face.
“Good evening, Archibald.” He nodded respectfully and glanced at Archibald’s companion. “Won’t you introduce us?”
Archibald’s eyebrow inched up his forehead. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. This isn’t your usual scene.”
One side of Nicholas’s mouth hitched up. “It seems I’m turning up in all kinds of places I didn’t expect recently.”
Archibald nodded and gestured to the woman at his side. She had well-balanced features with dark eyes and a generous mouth. “Please allow me to introduce my fiancée, Miss Darlene Heard. Miss Heard, this reprobate is Mr. Nicholas Blackwell.”
Miss Heard smiled prettily and curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Nicholas bowed. “Likewise, Miss Heard. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you.” She darted a look at Archibald and whispered, “Between us, I’ll be glad when it’s done and we’re married. Mother is impossible to deal with at present.”
A slow grin stole across Nicholas’s face. He had a feeling he was going to like this woman. “I’m sure it will be over before you know it.”
Archibald cleared his throat, drawing Nicholas’s attention. “Am I to understand that you’ve changed your stance on marriage?”
For a moment, Nicholas didn’t understand what he was getting at, but when Archibald gestured pointedly toward the dance floor, where he’d been with Sophie, his meaning sank in.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve changed my stance, exactly,” he hedged, uncertain how to respond without either giving away the ruse or making himself look like a cad. “I’m… in the process of re-evaluating.”
Miss Heard glanced down and then raised her chin shyly. “If Lady Sophie Carlisle has anything to do with your thoughtfulness on the matter, I must approve. She is charming.”
Nicholas frowned. “Are you friends?”
“No.” She sighed. “I believe I’m too dull to merit her attention—but she’s always so lively and kind to those around her. She improves a room upon entering.”
He studied her keenly. “You’re a very sweet sort of person, aren’t you?”
She blushed.
“Don’t flirt with my bride, you rogue,” Archibald drawled, a hint of warning in his tone.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He backed away slightly to reassure his friend. “But I think you might be surprised, Miss Heard. You don’t strike me as being dull, and I suspect Lady Sophie would feel the same.”
She ducked her head. “That’s nice of you to say.”
Nicholas blew out an exasperated breath.
Nice.
He wasn’t known for being nice. What on earth was the world coming to?
Archibald tsked. “I think you may have competition for Lady Sophie’s affections.”
Nicholas spun around, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Sophie swaying in Baron Sylvestor’s arms. “Not for long,” he snapped, like the eager suitor he was supposed to be. “Lovely to see you both, but I must be off.”
He stalked to the edge of the dance floor and lingered there until the dance ended.
Baron Sylvestor tucked Sophie’s hand into the crook of his arm and looked set to keep her to himself, but Nicholas intercepted them, doing his best to keep his usual unaffected expression in place despite the fact his teeth were gritted hard enough that his jaw ached.
“Lady Sophie.” He bowed to her. “You dance so gracefully that it seems a shame to stop. Will you grant me the next one?”
Her forehead creased briefly, but she schooled her features before he could interpret what the flicker of emotion might mean. “Of course, Mr. Blackwell.”
Baron Sylvestor released his grip on her, and she and Nicholas took up a position among the other dancers waiting to begin. There was a question in her eyes—one he couldn’t even begin to answer—so he looked up at the ceiling to avoid it.
Unfortunately, he stared directly into the glittering light of the chandelier and had to squeeze his eyes shut as it temporarily blinded him. When he opened them, his gaze was once again on Sophie.
She stood before him, wreathed in light, her chin tilted up and her pink lips curved in a way that hinted at amusement.
Attraction punched him in the gut.
Damn, he wanted her.
Sucking in a breath, he received a lungful of her scent, which reminded him of walking through the gardens at Blackwell Hall in the morning while the rose petals were damp with dew and the day was only beginning, full of possibility.
Desire tightened in his groin, and he angled himself away from her, praying she wouldn’t notice. But lord, how was he supposed to resist?
He wanted to press his mouth to hers and taste those plush lips. He wanted to bury his face in the side of her neck and breathe her in. And most of all, he wanted to send all of her goddamn suitors packing.
He tore his gaze away as the music began.
He was in so much trouble.
He’d thought the only risks that might arise from her plan were to her reputation and his relationships with Theo and his mother. It had never occurred to him that his own heart might be on the line.
Now, he couldn’t deny it.
When she married someone else, it would hurt.
He wanted her for himself. But he couldn’t have her.
He held himself stiffly during the dance, and as soon as it was over, he escorted her back to her mother and rushed for the balcony. He needed fresh air and a moment to himself.
Thanking his lucky stars that no one else was out here, he strode to the balustrade, leaned against it, and gasped for air. His head spun, and he tightened his grip until his knuckles strained, the bones feeling like they were threatening to break through the skin.
“You need to get a hold of yourself,” he hissed to himself, trying to suppress the unfamiliar emotions rising and falling inside of him. “You can’t be attracted to her. She isn’t for you. Just ignore it.”
This would pass. All he had to do was keep his head down, be on his best behavior around her, and eventually his heart would get the message that this woman wasn’t someone it could get attached to.
“Nicholas.”
He bolted upright and spun around so quickly that he stumbled and had to catch himself on the balustrade.
Sophie stood in the doorway, her head tipped slightly to the side, a quizzical groove between her eyebrows. “Is everything all right?”
No. It wasn’t.
His heart rate sped up dangerously.
The last time he’d been alone on a balcony with a woman, her reputation had almost been ruined, and his brother had been pressured into marriage.
“We have to leave,” he said, thrusting himself away from the balustrade and rushing to her. He guided her through the doorway and back into the thrum.
History wouldn’t repeat itself.
He couldn’t allow it to.