Chapter 18
This goddamn bush.
Nicholas shoved a branch out of the way and ducked beneath a short hedgerow, peering around it as Sophie and Baron Sylvestor returned from their blasted romantic walk to the pond.
He was glad to see that Sophie hadn’t tried to sneak away without a chaperone. God knew if she did that and got caught, they’d be betrothed before nightfall.
As it was, he could tell they were discussing something important. Sophie’s usual smile was absent, and her head was tilted slightly in thought. The baron was holding her arm more firmly than necessary, as if he knew that she might run away the instant he released her.
Did she need to be rescued?
Nicholas was more than willing to storm over there and intervene if that was what she wanted.
If nothing else, it was clear that she didn’t hold the baron in the same esteem as Nicholas because she kept a very polite space between their bodies with the exception of their interlinked arms.
That was cold comfort when she had already said that she wouldn’t stop pursuing the baron for anything less than an offer of marriage.
Of course, she was right to take that stance. She deserved to be properly courted and wooed, and he’d spent the entire time they were gone reminding himself of why he couldn’t do that.
Seeing her now, it was difficult to remember the reasons. Especially when he knew Theo wouldn’t begrudge him for proposing to her.
At least, not until their mother disowned them both.
The baron said something, and Sophie tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Nicholas wanted to barrel over there and rescue her from what was obviously not a particularly enjoyable conversation, but if he did that, it would make a scene, and she would be even angrier with him.
Instead, he hovered behind the hedgerow until they passed by, then he hurried after them, keeping his distance until they parted ways in the manor’s foyer.
As soon as Sophie was alone, he rushed over to her and touched her shoulder. She turned, her cheeks pink, but her eyes were flat, containing none of their usual sparkle.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” he said, although he wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing for kissing her or for not making an offer of marriage. He’d done many wrong things, and she was too unpredictable for him to guess what had upset her most.
She tilted her chin up defiantly. “Please go. Leave me be.”
Beside her, Betsy narrowed her eyes at Nicholas, giving him the impression that she knew exactly what had happened between them.
“Are you all right?” he asked, starting to reach for her before withdrawing his hand. “You seemed upset by whatever you and the baron were discussing.”
Her nostrils flared. “That’s none of your concern.”
His chest tightened, a sense of panic swelling within him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He wasn’t supposed to lose her.
“We’re still friends, if nothing else. I’m here for you.”
She jerked her head violently to the side. “I need time before I can be your friend again.”
His limbs went weak and pressure continued to build in his chest. “But, Sophie, I—” He cut himself off. If she needed distance, then who was he to force his presence upon her? “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”
He strode away without much sense of where he was going. It was only once he found himself back at his guest bedroom that he became aware of his surroundings at all.
He let himself in and retrieved the small flask of brandy he’d stored inside one of the cabinets. He poured a finger of it into a glass and gulped it down. The liquor burned his throat and warmed his writhing insides in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant.
He poured another but sipped this one more slowly, afraid he might throw it up if he didn’t take his time. Perhaps he ought to get soused.
No, as tempting as that might be, he was less likely to be careful and might do or say something that would upset his mother if it ever got back to her. He had to tread cautiously.
Not that anything was new there. He always had to be careful, even when he was getting blind drunk or losing his inhibitions on the racecourse.
He could never just be completely in the moment. If he did, he risked making one of the many, many mistakes he was famous for and outing the big family secret.
So instead, he moped about the bedroom until dinner, where he was seated opposite Sophie.
She ignored him, avoiding his gaze as much as possible and bestowed all of her pretty smiles on that charming fucking bastard Sylvestor.
After dinner, Lady Wembley decided to show off the talents of her niece by asking her to play dance music on the piano. This gave the guests a chance to stretch their legs and work off some of the heavy meal they’d just eaten.
Baron Sylvestor rose gracefully from his chair and offered Sophie his hand. To Nicholas’s consternation, she took it and accompanied him to the end of the room, which had been cleared for the occasion.
Fortunately, the dance was a fast-paced one without many opportunities for them to gaze romantically into each other’s eyes.
Unfortunately, there were still plenty of times when Baron Sylvestor’s hands brushed the curves of Sophie’s body as if they belonged to him.
With each and every instance of contact, the tension in Nicholas’s muscles grew tauter and a knot in his stomach tightened. A red haze descended over his vision, and he drank his wine too quickly and almost choked on it.
The dance seemed to drag on forever.
By the time it finished, he’d had as much of this courting display as he could stand. He pushed his chair back and pretended not to see the knowing looks as he stalked to the makeshift dance floor and waited for Sophie and the baron to reach the edge.
He bowed as they approached even though every instinct he possessed told him not to make himself vulnerable in front of the competition. “Lady Sophie, won’t you do me the honor of granting me the next dance?”
He half expected her to tell him to go to hell, but of course she couldn’t do that in front of anyone else, so instead she just pursed her lips and reluctantly extended her hand. He tucked it into the crook of his arm before she could snatch it back and swept her away from Sylvestor.
The first notes of the new song began, and he could have wept in gratitude when he realized it was a waltz. They whirled together, her floral scent wrapping around him, tantalizing his senses. Her skirts swished, and she was soft everywhere they touched.
Her eyes, however, were blue fire threatening to burn him up.
“Are you trying to play with my heart?” she hissed.
“What? No!”
How could she think that of him?
Oh.
Well, he supposed he had been running hot and cold.
“You’re confusing me.” They swayed apart, and she waited until they were closer again to continue. “Either decide to marry me, or this farce of a courtship needs to end immediately. It hurts too much to hope.”
His heart squeezed and his stomach dropped. He’d never intended to treat her cruelly, but in attempting to do the right thing, he kept making mistakes. “I can’t stand to see you with Baron Sylvestor.”
She twirled out, their arms stretched between them, then moved gracefully back into his hold. “So do something about it.”
It wasn’t that easy.
But he also couldn’t allow her to walk out of his life when there was a possibility the loss would crush him.
“I’m going to the library,” she murmured, tilting her chin toward him, her lips plump and pink. “I’ll wait there for half an hour. If you’re willing to discuss our future, join me. If we have no future, then do me a favor and stay away.”
His breath caught and his heart hammered against his ribcage. Every part of him wanted to meet her there but it would be irresponsible to do so.
He hoped she didn’t notice the tremor in his hands as panic swelled in his chest. He hadn’t expected her to issue an ultimatum, and he had no idea how to respond.
Sophie tore free of Nicholas the instant the dance ended. She motioned to her mother that she was retiring and stalked out of the room. The corridors in Nunhaven were constructed in a grid-like pattern and she followed the one that led to the library.
The door was already ajar, candlelight flickering inside. She half expected to see someone browsing the shelves as she entered, but the space was devoid of people. She strode to one of the reading chairs and threw herself onto it.
She had a few minutes to consider how she might be able to persuade Nicholas to give them a chance at a happy future together.
Rubbing her temple, she gazed into a dancing candle flame. This would be so much easier if she had any idea what was holding him back. He’d never specified why he wouldn’t marry, just that he refused.
She’d assumed that he didn’t want to commit to anyone, but she was beginning to suspect that the reason was deeper than that.
If it was the possibility of a monogamous relationship that bothered him, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She wished she were the blasé sort of woman who could assure him that she didn’t care if he took a mistress after they were married, but she wasn’t.
If they married and she discovered that he’d been unfaithful, there was every chance she’d burn his house down and dance in the ashes.
So, that wasn’t an option.
But if, as she suspected, something else was preventing him from proposing to her, then she needed to know what.
A knock on the library door startled her, and she jolted upright, hurrying to tidy her skirts, her heart tripping with the knowledge that he’d come for her.
“Lady Sophie?”
Her heart sank. That wasn’t Nicholas’s voice.
A moment later, Baron Sylvestor strode in, his expression uncharacteristically serious. He stopped just inside the door and cleared his throat. “I noticed you slip away, and you looked upset. Are you all right?”
“I’m, uh, fine.” Although her pulse was thumping faster with every passing second.
They were alone.
If someone happened upon them, it was possible she’d be pressured into marrying the baron the same way Kate had been pushed to wed Theo.
Also, what would happen if Nicholas turned up while the baron was still here?
Either it would look like she was up to no good with the baron, or the baron would guess that she’d made an assignation with Nicholas.
It was best to avoid either of those outcomes.
“Are you sure?” He took a few steps closer. “Was someone unkind to you? You don’t seem like yourself.”
Panicked, she glanced toward the door. “It’s inappropriate for us to be alone together.”
He backed up. “Of course. It was indelicate of me not to think of that. Would you like me to summon a maid so we can speak more with the reassurance of a chaperone?”
She swallowed a groan. Why must he be so persistent?
“Actually,” she began, rising from the chair and resting one of her hands on her belly. “I’m not feeling particularly well. I think something from dinner isn’t sitting right.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to fetch your mother to care for you?”
“No!” God forbid they give her mother any reason to suspect that something was amiss. Lady Carlisle could be surprisingly astute. “I’ll retire and sleep early. Hopefully I’ll be recovered by the morning.”
“Allow me to escort you. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to leave a lady in distress without rendering assistance.”
Was he trying to compromise her?
She arched her eyebrow meaningfully.
He chuckled. “Never fear. I shall ask a maid to escort us.”
He ducked out into the corridor and returned a few moments later with one of the housemaids in tow.
Reluctantly, Sophie took the baron’s arm and walked with him out of the library. As they headed down the corridor, Nicholas marched around the corner and almost bowled into them.
Sophie’s heart leapt once again.
He had come.
Did that mean he was willing to consider marriage?
She giggled, almost giddy at the thought, and both men looked at her strangely. Immediately, she schooled her features even as her mind whirled, turning over the possibilities.
“My apologies, Lady Sophie.” Nicholas bowed. “I should pay more attention to where I’m walking.”
“It’s of no consequence at all, Mr. Blackwell.
” Her hand twitched, desperate to reach out and grab him before he had time to talk himself out of any progress he might have made on the marriage front.
“Lord Sylvestor happened upon me in the library and, as I am not feeling well, he’s escorting me to my quarters. ”
She held his dark gaze. Hopefully he would understand that she’d had no choice but to leave with the baron once he’d found her. She still intended to meet with Nicholas in the library, but she’d have to sneak back after the baron had left her.
Nicholas tilted his head. “I’m sorry you’re unwell. I hope you’re much improved by tomorrow.”
“As do I.”
She and the baron swept past Nicholas, and he continued on, bound for the library.
Baron Sylvestor walked her to her bedchamber door and bowed deeply. “Sleep well, my lady, and feel better.”
Her lips wobbled as she tried to smile, but her insides twisted uncomfortably. It didn’t feel right to sneak around behind his back when he’d been so kind to her. She was repaying his honor with deceit, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
But she refused to lose her chance with Nicholas, so she wished him a good night, entered the bedchamber, and closed the door, then checked the time. She’d wait for five minutes before re-emerging.
However, only two minutes had passed when there was a soft knock on the door.