Chapter 16
Nic stood in the middle of his dressing room and failed to dress.
His thoughts had been turning endlessly since they’d found Master Everel, though he could hardly have said what he was thinking about.
The contents of his mind were just a tangle that occasionally caught on something, only to tear free, leaving a sensation like static under his skin.
They’d been so sure it had been Lord Ricard, and now, nothing.
Ambrose cleared his throat. “Is everything all right, my lord?”
“Of course, Ambrose,” Nic said, the words more automatic than true. “Something makes you think otherwise?”
“That I had to say your name four times just now to get you to put an arm in your shirtsleeve.”
“Oh.” Nic looked down at the black shirt hanging around his neck, not entirely sure how it had gotten there. “Apologies.” He slid his arm into the other sleeve so Ambrose could do up the buttons. “It’s been a strange day.”
A hurried knock tapped upon the outer door, then Leaf’s breathless voice called, “Nic?”
“I’m in here, Leaf,” Nic called back. “Dressing.”
“Oh. Are you decent?”
Nic glanced down at his breeches and shirt and shrugged, disturbing Ambrose’s work on his neckcloth. “I suppose so?”
Taking that as a yes, Leaf appeared in the open doorway, her expression troubled. “Good evening, Ambrose,” she said, keeping out of the valet’s way as he fetched Nic’s waistcoat.
“Good evening, my lady,” the valet replied, doing his best to keep the shock of their familiarity off his face.
Despite her hasty arrival, Leaf just bit at her bottom lip and watched as Nic finished dressing. When at last he was done, Ambrose stepped back to examine his handiwork. “Satisfied, my lord?”
“Yes, but you can’t escape since you’re our chaperone,” Nic said. “So you may as well take a seat. Have a rest.”
“I… I’m sure I can find something more productive to do, my lord, if you’ll excuse me.” Ambrose bowed himself out, leaving Nic to stare at himself in the mirror, not sure he recognised the man who stared back.
Moving to stand beside him, Leaf appeared in the reflection, a worried crease between her brows.
“I thought we had it,” she said, staring at the pair of them standing side by side in the glass. “It was the only thing that made sense, and now none of it makes sense. If Uncle Ricard wanted to force Papa to invoke the clause, killing your head vowsmith wasn’t the right choice.”
I’d watch my back if I were you, Master sa Vare.
“I suppose it’s possible he thought it would automatically end the contract, although surely you would want to be sure of that before killing someone.” She glanced up at him. “I don’t suppose you think much of Aunt Theresa’s suggestion? That your mama might have…”
“I don’t know. I’m sure you’ve noticed that she isn’t always quite… with us, but they’ve lived in the same house all these years, so why do it now?”
Leaf made a face. “That’s true. And that being the case, it’s far more likely to be someone I brought with me.” A pause. “Papa was very insistent this afternoon, wasn’t he.”
Not a question. Lord Charborough had defended both the duchess and the contract, and had stepped in to protect Nic’s father with a ferocity that might have been remarkable had they not already understood why.
“We will have to watch him too, I think,” Leaf said. “He’s already offered me more money not to kick up a fuss or ask to leave. That school of mine might become a reality after all.”
Nic didn’t answer, his gaze caught to the sight of them still side by side in the mirror—Lord and Lady Monterris.
Before her arrival, he had dreaded the very thought of her.
Now the woman staring out of the glass was fast becoming his best friend.
He wanted to hold on to her for the rest of his life, but marriage was the wrong shape in his mind.
Leaf looked up at him. “Are you all right, Nic?”
“Yes.”
How could he explain the buzz that had taken root in his skin? The anger and the hurt and the desperate need? As well voice the fear that it could have been Dashiell lying there with an arrow in his back.
Leaf squeezed his arm. “I don’t suppose you saw anything out of place when you found him?”
“You mean apart from a dead body? No, he was just… lying on the grass on the far side of the pavilion.”
“Yet your father and Aunt Theresa didn’t see him. That means it must have happened after the rain began. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Nic finally pulled his gaze from the mirror and spread his arms. “Don’t I look all right? I put a lot of effort into looking this good, you know.”
“You look… I don’t know. Angry, but not exactly. I can’t explain it. Something in your eyes. Is it Master Everel, or should I blame Master sa Vare?”
His laugh owned no humour. “Neither. Both. Don’t worry about me, just… take care, won’t you?”
“You feel it too?” She turned to face him, one corner of her lips turning down as she pressed them flat. “I’m scared, Nic. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. There can be no doubt anymore that Gillingham was murdered too, and to have two members of the negotiation teams targeted…”
She trailed off, leaving the obvious conclusion hanging.
“It’s about the contract,” he said.
“Yes. And if you really wanted to ensure a contract didn’t go ahead, why not kill one of its principals? Without us, there is no contract.”
The truth of her words sank like lead into Nic’s stomach. Someone out there had already killed at least twice and failed to get what they wanted. The next time they might make sure of it. And they no longer had a clear suspect to watch.
Nic saw his dread reflected in Leaf’s face. Without stopping to think how scandalised Ambrose would be, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “We’re going to get through this,” he said. “I promise.”
He had sought only to give comfort rather than take it, but his heart swelled as she slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Good,” she said. “I don’t want to die. And I don’t particularly want you to die either.”
“Why thank you.”
She tightened her hold around his waist, her grip determined. “You’re not going anywhere, Nicholas Monterris.”
For a time they stood so, and Nic couldn’t but think of how long it had been since anyone had held him without something more being desired, without the charge of lust and expectation.
So many of his relationships had been merely physical, transactional, even the ones that had lasted a few months beginning with the knowledge of their end.
They’d been enjoyed for what they were and rarely mourned once they were gone, a friend something he’d never found again.
Or not let yourself find, a treacherous part of him suggested. After all, his only experience of friendship had ended in Dashiell’s abrupt departure.
Eventually, Leaf stepped back with a sigh.
“Thank you, I needed that. I feel far more able to go down to dinner now, though I’m very glad we’re just eating and having no entertainments.
” She turned toward the dressing room door, only to spin back.
“Tomorrow we should plan how we’re going to get through this lock-in without getting murdered.
For now, try not to go anywhere on your own, all right? ”
Nic agreed. In the circumstances it was a sensible plan, yet it left him overbalanced like the world had tipped beneath his feet.
Monterris Court had never been a comfortable, happy home, but it was all he knew.
That such danger now stalked its halls, threatening the people he loved and leaving nowhere safe to hide, added to the angry buzz beneath his skin.
And the dread carving hollows in his stomach.
The group that gathered that evening was tense and subdued.
With the dining room gutted by fire, dinner was served in one of the parlours, silence predominant.
While the others picked at their food, Nic stared across the table at Dashiell.
It had always felt dangerous to do so, but tonight he was too angry to care—angry at the murderer for making him fear, at his father for having robbed Master Everel of freedom, and at Dashiell for having sauntered back into his life and captured him utterly, claiming a closure that had been no closure at all.
At first, Dashiell seemed not to notice. When he did, he tried a wan smile, but Nic went on staring like if he stared hard enough, he would be able to see inside the vowsmith’s head, be able, at last, to understand him.
Dashiell turned away, but glanced back soon enough, and by the time the second course was laid they were caught in a dance, Nic increasingly determined not to look away, not to let Dashiell decide when they were finished.
They had no possible future, but if Nic could take his own closure and prove himself as heartless, perhaps he could walk away as Dashiell had done.
When dinner ended, there was no lingering over the wine, no sitting in the drawing room to chat and laugh and play music, no fireworks or tea or supper, just a desultory series of good nights as the party broke up.
Lingering by his chair, Nic watched Dashiell leave, watched him bid the duke good night and head for the open door.
There he paused and glanced back, meeting Nic’s gaze.
One beat. Two. A faint smile and he was gone, turning the wrong direction along the hallway for a man intent on retiring to bed.
“Nic.” Leaf was at his elbow, Millie and Lady Lisbeth a step behind. “We’re heading upstairs. Would you like to walk with us?”
Safety in numbers was their wise plan, but Nic shook his head. He would be wise tomorrow. “You go. I have some things to do. Don’t worry, though, I promise I’ll be on my guard.”