Chapter 2
Two
Nicole stabbed the sausage link that lay helplessly upon her plate and sliced it into quarter-inch pieces.
After three years of no contact, why in heaven’s name had Felix decided to rope her into one of his beastly schemes?
It was a good thing Uncle Logan had returned to Scotland, or her uncle would be interrogating her without restraint.
Her uncle had weathered her tears, out bursts for the last three years.
He was her champion, her confidant and the only one in her clan that understood her.
And to think, Uncle Logan had finally returned to his beloved home believing she’d finally overcome her disappointment at Felix’s treatment of her—pointedly avoiding her, glaring at her across crowds warning her not to come close, and of course, the constant sting of seeing a new lady upon Felix’s arm at every turn.
Engagement!
Bah, the man had lost his marbles if he thought she’d agree to pretend to be his intended. Absolutely not!
“Nicole, dear… are you listening?” her father asked, his salt-and-pepper brows knitted in concern.
She blinked and focused on her father, who in her opinion was the only decent man present in London. Nicole pasted on a bright smile and replied, “I am now, Father.”
Though her nature was to run wild and climb trees, Nicole showed only her praised composure as she set down her silverware, placed her hands in her lap, and met her father's gaze.
Baron Swyft. Her father was a large man, with a sprinkling of gray through his thinning hair and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
However, his reassuring smile was distinctly absent this morn.
Unlike her uncle, her father rarely pressed her for information.
Three Seasons in London had taught Nicole the value of restraint.
In order to survive the endless and tiresome social calendar her father was intent on adhering to with the hope of marrying her off before he met his maker, she’d learned to keep her head down, her voice subdued, and her opinions solely to herself.
No one, male or female, with the exception of Uncle Logan appreciated her insolence in delivering the harsh truth, and especially not from a Scottish baron’s daughter.
Becoming invisible wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought it might be.
She sat with the other wallflowers, although even they often ensured there was at least two seats of space between them; she curled the corners of her lips ever so slightly when spoken to and never initiated conversation or drew attention to herself.
There had been times she wished to simply return to Scotland, but her Uncle Logan had been there to persuade her to follow her heart, and of course she’d never disobey her father, who had given up everything to raise her.
"Forgive me, Father," Nicole said, picking up her teacup, but placed it back upon the saucer at the sight of her shaking hands. "I was wool gathering."
"About your engagement, I presume?"
Her stomach dropped. "You heard?"
"My dear girl, all of London has heard by now. Well, at the very least all the guests who attended Lady Pemberton's ball last night, and those, of course, who read the gossip sheets.” Her father folded his newspaper with deliberate care. “Would you like to share exactly how it came to be that you are engaged to the future Duke of Strandon? Felix Martin, London’s reputed rake, the boy I specifically told you to keep your distance from.” Her father’s normally even tone escalated with each word until he ran out of breath.
Heat flooded her cheeks. "It's not what you think."
"Is that so?" Her father's expression was unreadable. "I’m open to hearing the truth."
Nicole opened her mouth, then closed it again.
What could she say? That Felix had used her as a shield to escape the attentions of an unwanted admirer?
That he'd claimed to love her, and for one foolish moment, she'd believed him?
She'd spent the entire night lying awake, replaying their conversation and hating herself for the tiny, treacherous part of her heart that still hoped he had meant every word.
"It’s all a misunderstanding," she said finally. "By accident, I came upon Felix and Lady Felicity. The next thing I know, Felix declared us engaged. I’m certain he simply said the first thing that came to mind to extricate himself from an uncomfortable situation.” She inhaled, taking a fortifying breath.
Lady Felicity’s shrill words rang in her head and, with a smile and a shrug, she added, “By next week, everyone will have forgotten all about this nonsense.
After all, everyone knows the Martin brothers never pay attention to a lady for longer than a week or two, a month at most."
Her father studied her and, for the longest moment in her life, his features remained frozen. Finally, he broke the silence, "A note arrived for you this morning."
The Martin brothers had held a special place in her father’s heart for the longest time, until they and their father distanced themselves.
The Duke of Strandon ceased corresponding with her father and refused to allow her father to call upon him, whether in London or at the Strandon country estate that bordered her father’s lands.
For three years, both she and her father had concocted varied excuses for why the Martins had decided to sever ties with them; none alleviated the infuriating frustration of not knowing the real reason.
Nicole's head snapped up. "For me?"
"Aye. It’s a note from… from Felix, requesting permission to call on you this afternoon." Her father pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket and slid it across the table. "I haven't responded yet. I wanted to speak with you first."
She glanced at the missive as if it might bite her. Felix's handwriting was bold and precise, the letters slanting slightly to the right. There was no need to open it; she had a very good idea as to what it said.
Felix was a man of his word, and he intended to execute the charade…
even if it was only for a month and then he’d find a way for them to both extricate themselves without fanfare.
The advantage of being the heir to a dukedom was that he could get away with pretty much anything, mayhap with the exception of murder.
Unless… he meant to kill her off after a month.
She shook off the morbid thought and said, "Tell him no."
"Nicole, dear—"
"Please, Father. Inform him I'm indisposed. Or that I've left London. Tell him anything, but please don't allow him to call upon me."
Her father's expression softened. "Tell me everything that happened last night."
Nicole's throat tightened. She'd never been able to lie to her father, not even when she was a child and had broken his favorite pipe trying to use it as a sword.
"He claims he loves me, and says he has since he was ten," she whispered.
Her father’s eyebrows rose, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. "He what? Wait, more importantly, do you believe him?"
"How can I?" She wrung her hands in her lap. "He's Felix Martin, heir to a dukedom, tall, handsome and a rake! He could have any woman in London. Why would he want me?"
Her father’s scowl returned as he asked, "Why wouldn't he?"
"Because I'm—" She gestured helplessly at herself.
"Look at me. I'm not as beautiful as Lady Anne or as charming as Lady Felicity.
I'm too tall, too plain, and way too Scottish.
The other girls made that abundantly clear during my debut.
" Nicole bit her lip, regretting the words as soon as they'd left her mouth.
The dark, fierce expression upon her father’s face rarely appeared, but it was terrifying. He asked through gritted teeth, "What gels spouted such nonsense?"
She'd never told her father about the whispered comments, the barely concealed sneers, the way the other debutantes had made her feel like an interloper in their glittering world.
"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "The point is, Felix is a notorious rake. He and his brother have a reputation for playing games, and are renowned for entertaining the attentions of women one after another, never for longer than a month. Why would I be any different?"
"Och, there, lass," her father said gently, "it’s because you are different."
She let her gaze fall back to her plate and shook her head. "You're my father. You would say that."
"I'm saying it because it's true." Her father reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "You're intelligent, brave, and kind. Any man would be lucky to have you. If that Martin boy has finally realized that, then perhaps he's not as foolish as his reputation suggests."
"Or perhaps he's exactly what they say he is, a rake through and through, and I'm the one being an idiot for even considering—" Nicole stopped, horrified by what she'd almost admitted.
The corner of her father's eyes crinkled. "For considering giving him a chance?"
"I didn't say that."
"Lass, you didn't have to." He squeezed her hand. "I won't force you to receive him if you truly don't wish to. But I think you should at least hear what he has to say."
"I heard enough last night. Why should I allow him to utter more nonsense?"
"Because you've been miserable since your debut.
You sit in corners at balls, you barely speak to anyone, and you've convinced yourself that you're somehow less than the other young ladies.
" His voice was firm but kind. "That's not the girl I raised.
The Nicole I fathered would have marched up to the rogue and demanded an explanation, not shy away, hoping he'd forget about her. "
Tears welled in her eyes. "That girl doesn't exist anymore, Father."