A Visit from Sir Nicholas Page 9

  “You have always been far more aware of obstacles in your path than anything or anyone trailing along behind you.”

  “Even so, I would have noted your name on the lists of stockholders.”

  “Not if I used another name.” Jonathon got to his feet and offered his hand to Nick. “May I introduce Mr. J. E. Shelton.”

  “You are J. E. Shelton?”

  “At your service.”

  “You are a devil, Jonathon.” Nick stood and clasped his friend’s hand.

  Mr. J.E. Shelton’s share of stocks in Nick’s company was indeed substantial, and Nick had long wondered about the man. Since the purchases had been made through brokers and solicitors, Nick had been unable to track down the mysterious Mr. Shelton and had finally abandoned the quest, in part because he had had other matters to attend to, but primarily because his investor had shown no interest in the company beyond the income his shares produced.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep your identity secret?”

  “You might well have refused my investment. All that making your fortune on your own nonsense. You accomplished that, you know, and made me remarkably wealthy in the process.” Jonathon chuckled. “And I am most appreciative.”

  “Glad I could be of assistance. Now.” Nick met Jonathon’s gaze directly. “Why did you lure me home?”

  “I wouldn’t say I lured you. Do give me some credit, after all. If I had wished to lure you, I wouldn’t have been nearly as subtle as I was. All I did was remind you of the responsibilities placed upon you by Charles’s will. I was very careful on that score not to go too far. You read into it exactly what you wished, and what you wished was to come home. I simply provided the impetus.” Jonathon shrugged in an all too satisfied manner. “Nothing more than that.”

  Nick studied the other man for a moment. Jonathon, just like his sister, was far more intelligent and perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. It gave him the upper hand more often than not, as well as the potential to be a powerful enemy. And an invaluable friend.

  “I suppose I should thank you.”

  Jonathon grinned. “It’s the least you could do.”

  “As for the finances of Lady Langley and her children,” Nick nodded at the papers on the desk, “I had decided before my arrival here that, barring any unforeseen problem, management should remain in your hands. Even now that I know your sister is handling her affairs herself and, I might add,” he shot Jonathon a rueful smile, “brilliantly, I see no need to change that decision.”

  “Excellent.” Jonathon heaved a sigh of relief. “Especially as it was not until this very day that I told her of the clause in Charles’s will regarding her finances.”

  Nick blew a long, low whistle. “I can’t imagine she would take that well.”

  “Not taking it well is an understatement.” Jonathon grimaced. “She was furious, and I can’t blame her. It would be different if she were indeed a simpering idiot, but anyone with half a brain should be able to see beyond her pretty face. Particularly the man who had married her. Don’t you agree?”

  “Most certainly,” Nick murmured.

  Indeed, the Elizabeth Effington Nick had known wouldn’t for a moment appreciate the fact that her husband had not left her in charge of her own fate. Of course, the Elizabeth he’d known had been a far cry from the lighthearted, flighty creature she’d appeared to be to the rest of the world. He’d wondered, on those rare occasions when he’d thought about her at all, if it was his own reserved, serious nature that had brought about the more thoughtful side of her character. Still, how was it that her own husband had not seen what Nick had?

  “She’ll be most relieved to know you do not intend to take over.”

  Nick grinned. “No doubt the least I can do.”

  “A joke, Sir Nicholas?” Jonathon raised a brow. “You have changed with the years.”

  “Come now, Jonathon, I joked.” Nick winced with the memory of a far too serious youth. “On occasion.”

  “You have, I don’t know, mellowed, I think. Like a fine wine or a good cheese.”

  “Or an excellent brandy.” Nick raised his glass and laughed.

  He had most definitely changed with the passage of time. Life no longer seemed quite as dire, as serious, as urgent as it once had. He was very much a man different from the one who had left here ten years ago. An annoying thought nagged in the back of his mind. Had Elizabeth changed as well?

  Jonathon sobered. “There is, however, something you have not yet seen in the records you’ve perused that I think you should note.”

  “Oh?”

  Jonathon circled to the back of the desk and opened a drawer.

  “I did indeed handle Lizzie’s finances in the first months after Charles’s death. It was not particularly onerous; his record keeping was surprisingly meticulous.” He pulled out a stack of what appeared to be paid bills, receipts, and other documents. “Frankly, anyone with half a brain could have picked up where he left off.

  “He apparently never considered for a moment that his wife might take over, or surely he would have disposed of, or at least hidden”—Jonathon’s voice hardened and he dropped the papers on the desk—“these.”

  “What are they?” Nick rifled through the receipts. “They appear to be nothing more than ordinary bills.”

  “Indeed they are. For milliners and dressmakers and butchers and greengrocers.”

  “Fairly basic for a household, I should think.” Nick shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”

  “They are not for his household. Or rather Lizzie’s household.”

  “Not for…” Nick’s gaze met Jonathon’s, and he blew a long breath. “I see.”

  “I didn’t believe it at first.” Jonathon shook his head. “I realize it is not uncommon for a man to support a mistress, and according to these papers, this had gone on for years. But I did expect better of the man who had married my sister. One of my closest friends. A man who had always claimed to have cared for her since we were children.”

  “Charles always was the most charming among us,” Nick murmured.

  “The one women always seemed to find irresistible.”

  “If he had married anyone else, we would not have found this the least bit surprising.” Nick shook his head. “I gather you had no knowledge of this?”

  “I had heard an occasional rumor, just as I have heard rumors about nearly every married man I know, but, as there was never anything of substance, I disregarded them. I realize now I should have confronted Charles, but, blast it all, Nick,” Jonathon blew a long breath, “I trusted the man.”

  “Did Elizabeth know?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know, but I assume not. I can’t imagine her allowing such a thing while he was alive, and I made certain she has not seen any of this since his death. Still, her pride is such that if indeed she does know, she might well never say a word.”

  “She would prefer the world think she was ignorant as opposed to betrayed,” Nick said.

  “You know her rather well.” Jonathon studied him curiously.

  Nick ignored the implication. “Not really. But I am observant enough to know the accuracy of your assessment.”

  “My initial impulse was to destroy these the moment I found them, but, as Charles named you as overseer of his financial affairs, I did not feel quite right about doing so until you had seen them.”

  “And, as I have now seen them,” Nick held out his hand, “there is no time like the present to destroy the evidence.”

  “Excellent idea.” Jonathon smiled with relief and handed Nick the sheaf of papers.

  Nick strode toward the fireplace at the far end of the room, then paused. “What of the woman in question?”

  Jonathon shrugged. “All the bills were handled through a solicitor, and I have made no effort to contact him. Nor, in the three years since Charles’s death, has the lady ever made her identity known to me. I have always assumed she learned of Charles’s demise and was discreet e
nough, or intelligent enough, to realize whatever promises he might have made regarding her support were no longer valid.”

  “That’s something, at any rate.” Nick nodded and skirted the sofa, bending low to toss the pages on to the banked fire.

  While he had no intention of intruding in Elizabeth’s life, and, despite his uncle’s encouragement and this revelation about Charles’s infidelity, no plans to involve himself with the woman in any manner whatsoever, he could spare her this. It was indeed the least he could do. He watched until the receipts caught to make certain not one piece of incriminating evidence remained.

  “I cannot believe this, Jonathon, any of it.”

  It was the last voice in the world Nick expected to hear at the moment. The last voice he wanted to hear. And the last voice he thought could ever make his heart leap. Again.

  He straightened slowly.

  Lady Langley, Elizabeth, swept into the room, anger apparent in the very line of her body, her gaze pinned firmly on her brother. She was exactly as Nick remembered.

  “I have had the most frustrating afternoon, and it was all to no avail.” She yanked her hat off impatiently and flung it onto the chair. “My solicitor, or rather Charles’s solicitor, that vile, despicable beast of a creature, says I cannot discharge him. Only you or Collingsworth can do so, and he was unforgivably smug about it.” She planted her hands on the desk, leaned forward, and glared at her brother. “I wish you to do so at once, unless you’d rather shoot him for me. That would be my preference, but I shall allow you to choose, as there are those pesky legal issues of prison to contend with should you murder him. Although I daresay an argument can be made for the elimination of vermin! However, if you simply wound him, I suspect a respectable amount of money would ease his pain. He would be expensive, of course, but well worth it, I think.”

  “Thank you for considering all the possibilities.” Jonathon grinned.

  “I could certainly shoot him myself, I suppose.” At the moment she looked more than capable of doing so, and Nick stifled a laugh.

  But he was wrong, she wasn’t exactly as he remembered. The girl who’d haunted his dreams was a pretty and vivacious creature, charming and amusing with an innate intelligence she did not display to the rest of the world. The woman he saw now carried an air of grace born of maturity and experience and confidence, and had, if possible, grown lovelier with the years. This woman was vivid in character, filling the room with her presence, and exuded life as if her body could not quite contain her spirit. And no one would ever think her frivolous.

  Every feeling he’d thought long since dead swept through him with an unexpected ferocity, and he knew, with a clarity he had rarely experienced in his life, that he had made a dreadful mistake.

  “Lizzie, you should know—”

  “And then there was Father’s solicitor, your solicitor, a member of the firm that has served the entire Effington family for generations.” She straightened and yanked off one glove. “In a nasty twist of fate, he is also the solicitor for Lord Thornecroft and, need I say it aloud? Nicholas Collingsworth!” She smacked the glove against the palm of her hand for emphasis.

  Not that her words needed emphasis. Elizabeth was nothing short of magnificent in her fury. And best of all, she had no idea Nick was in the room.

  How could he have been such a fool? How could he ever have given her up?

  “Do you know what he said to me?” Elizabeth’s voice rang with disbelief.

  “I am almost afraid to ask.” Jonathon’s gaze slid to Nick, then back to his sister. “But I really should tell you—”

  “He said it would be a conflict of conscience to represent me in this matter given his relationship with Sir Nicholas. A conflict of conscience?” She snorted in disdain. “While it is exceedingly pleasant to hear a solicitor use the concept of conscience in so honorable a manner, at the moment I would prefer someone of less conscience and greater cunning.” She blew a frustrated breath. “Although, as a courtesy to Father and you, he did look over the pertinent section of the will that you had provided me.”

  “And?” Jonathon prompted.

  “And,” Elizabeth sighed and dropped into the chair, “I am—oh, I have no idea how to say it politely.”

  “Do go on, Lizzie,” Jonathon said, “it can’t be that bad.”

  “Let us just say I am no less trapped than if I were a fox surrounded by snarling hounds.” She shook her head. “I have no options whatsoever save your idea of flinging myself on Collingsworth’s mercy.”

  “Yes, well, that was my idea.” Jonathon glanced at Nick and looked very much like a man who wasn’t entirely sure if he should laugh or simply flee. “And I’m certain you’ll find him more than reasonable.”

  “Hah! I have yet to find a reasonable man today, and I am not willing to wager that Collingsworth is unique in that regard.” She smacked her glove against her palm rhythmically, the dull slaps echoing in the large room, her brow furrowed with thought.

  Nick had seen any number of men do something similar: tapping a pen or drumming their fingers on a tabletop. It always indicated a fervent search for an answer to whatever dilemma confronted them. Usually said dilemma was contingent upon Nick himself, which, then as now, gave him something of an upper hand.

  “I must think of something, Jonathon, some way out of this nasty predicament my husband has placed me in. Aside from the fact that Charles’s actions were neither fair nor necessary, I cannot simply trust a man I scarcely know with my finances. Indeed, with my life and those of my children.” Her voice hardened. “Trusting a man I thought I knew quite well is what got me into this. I shall not put my fate, and the fate of my sons, in the hands of another.”

  In ten years, Nick had achieved every goal he had set for himself.

  “You can tell him yourself.” Jonathon’s tone was deceptively casual. “He’s here, Lizzie.”

  Winning back this woman’s heart would be the most difficult task of all.

  “I know he’s here.” She waved off her brother’s comment. “I heard you earlier. You said he arrived yesterday.”

  “I don’t mean here in London.”

  And the most important.

  “Well, what do you mean?” She huffed. “Honestly, Jonathon, I have no time for guessing games. If I am to get the best of a man like Collingsworth, I must focus my efforts on that and nothing else. Now, what are you trying to say?”

  Nick drew a deep breath and stepped around the sofa. “What your brother is trying to say, Lady Langley, is that I am not merely in London, I am in this very room.”

  Nicholas Collingsworth?

  Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widened with disbelief, and her stomach plummeted, very much as if she had just been physically hit. Hard.

  “Jonathon?” Her voice was little more than a croak.

  “I told you he was here,” Jonathon said idly, as if the fact that Nicholas Collingsworth was in this very room listening to every word she’d just said was of no significance whatsoever.

  “Lady Langley, it’s delightful to see you again.” Nicholas strode toward her as if he were a ghost stepping out of the past.

  She rose to her feet and struggled for words. Something, anything, no matter how inane or foolish. She had never in her life swooned, nor had she ever wished to, but she knew any number of women who had the ability to swoon on command. At the moment, she envied them. Perhaps if she did indeed crumple to the floor in an unconscious heap, the perfect words would be on her lips when she awoke.

  Nicholas reached her, took her ungloved hand, and drew it to his lips. “And, might I add, you are looking as lovely as I remember.”

  His lips, warm and firm, brushed across her skin, and his gaze bored into hers. “Indeed, you have not changed at all.”

  Nor had he. His eyes were as dark and smoldering, his face as handsome, the touch of his skin to hers every bit as electric as she’d remembered in the dark recesses of her most secret dreams. Without warning, she was
swept back through the years to a moment before she had married or borne two sons or discovered even the most secure of lives was not secure at all.

  She was once again Lizzie Effington, and she was gazing into the eyes of the man she might or might not have loved. Whose kisses had curled her toes. Who had spoken with her as though she were his equal.

  The man who had humiliated and embarrassed her.

  The very man who absolutely had not broken her heart.

  She snatched her hand from his. “What are you doing here?”

  Jonathon groaned.

  Nicholas raised a brow. “What a charming greeting. I see the years have not dampened your penchant for speaking before due consideration. And yes, I am well, thank you.”

  “I don’t care if you’re well or not.” She grit her teeth. “I don’t particularly care if you’re breathing or long since dead and buried. What are you doing here?”

  “Why, I am reacquainting myself with my old friend.” He cast Jonathon a friendly smile.

  Jonathon grinned. “We have had a great deal to talk about.”

  “Ten years is a very long time.” Nicholas picked up a glass of brandy from the desk and took a sip. His gaze lingered on her even as he drank. As if she were a butterfly pinned to a board and he were a student of such things. It was most disconcerting. And no doubt the reason, the only reason, why her heart thudded in her chest.

  Worse still was the thought that rose unbidden in her mind. What was the result of his assessment? Did he find that the years and childbearing and life itself had taken its toll? She’d never considered herself especially vain, but at the moment she couldn’t help but wish that she had worn the emerald walking dress that brightened the color of her eyes or that she’d cinched in her corset a bit tighter. Not that she cared one bit if he found her attractive, but she’d long known a woman’s beauty was as great a weapon as her intelligence. Greater, perhaps, because few men looked beyond beauty.

  Of course, there had been a time when he and he alone had. Or rather she’d thought he had. Still, that was a very, very long time ago and much had changed. She certainly had.