Page 22 of Within the Hollow Heart

Unease crawled up Nickolas’s neck, and he couldn’t help but snap, “What is it?”

William clicked his tongue. “So that’s how it will be, then? Even among old friends?”

“I wasn’t under the impression this was a friendly interview, Lord Adair. It smacks of distrain.”

A dark chuckle came from behind Nickolas as William moved to face him. “Very well. We’ll get to the point. I need something from you, Lord Brigham.”

That was nothing new. “I’ve naught left to give, and you know it.”

William’s wide mouth slid into an unpleasant grin. “I do. But you have one asset left, do you not? And I intend to use it. You, my fine friend, will do precisely as I ask, or the Brigham name will be turned to muck. No one with a single tie to your family will be spared, least of all your lady mother.”

The truth in the threat was plain. The Adairs had information on Nickolas’s mother. They’d used it for years to siphon obligations from Nickolas’s father. But Nickolas’s father was gone.

“Why now? What reason could you possibly have?” Nickolas asked.

The eldest of a long line of Adair heirs leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms. “Princess Mireille.”

Nickolas stared dumbly. “What about her? The woman is three kingdoms away.”

“She’s coming to the ball. Word is she means to find a husband and strengthen ties with Westrende. I intend to win her.”

“Win her? Saints, what are you—” Nickolas’s words cut off when he realized what William was planning. The lady was worth a small fortune on her own. But if one could win the support of the lady’s father and influence trade from the inside… Nickolas leaned heavily against the nearby wall.

“All I need is a post. To look as if the thing hasn’t been set up. A valid title so that, by appearance, I’ve a different goal. And you, my friend”—a long finger pointed menacingly at Nickolas—“you will get me that spot. Something impressive at the hands of your bosom confidant. And don’t tell me the two of you have fallen out. I just saw you leave her.”

“You expect a post in the marshal’s office?” Nickolas asked, his tone incredulous. “Ostwind would tear you apart.”

Will leaned forward. “Let me worry about that.”

“It will never work. You have to see that.”

William rose to his full height. “You seem to believe this is a favor I’m asking, Lord Brigham. Be assured, it is not. You will secure me a post in the office of marshal by the end of the week, or your four sisters will pay the price.”

He dropped a coin onto the table then strode from the room. Nickolas could hear the horrible man’s whistle fade into the distance as if he’d not just tossed a threat to the entire Brigham family onto the fine wood table.

Nickolas’s mother had never been satisfied. Despite the riches her status provided—the comfort, the security, a lavish lifestyle, and societal respect—there was never enough. Tempted by riffraff, she’d found ways to feed that dissatisfaction. Minor offenses at first, smuggled goods that were not entirely legal, dishonest trades with neighboring kingdoms. But she’d gotten greedy. She became involved with a group who dabbled in more illicit crimes, like forgery. Nickolas’s father had chased her debts, ensuring her safety but emptying the coffers even before his death.

The squandering had not stopped. Lady Brigham had driven the family into insolvency beyond repair. She’d betrayed their name for the endless desire for more. And the coin was carved with a reminder of those crimes.

Nickolas stared at it, understanding exactly how dangerous his mother’s secret was in the hands of William Adair and unable to stop it.

CHAPTER12

Nickolas had not laid eyes on Jules since the day she had left him outside of the castle. He’d been thwarted first by his mother’s men sniffing around the chancery then again when he’d arrived to find Gideon at odds with some lord who was part of Princess Mireille’s entourage attempting to force access to the wing. The risk of being spotted and Nickolas’s failed attempts to visit personally had led him to send a message to Jules, which was followed only by a brief conversation with her through a thin panel in a nearby document room.

Ian had stood watch as Nickolas leaned close to the panel, whispering assurances that the masked ball would be Jules’s best chance at an introduction to Lord Beckett. “We will find him, and we will sort your troubles. Soon, this will all be only a dark spot in your past.”

“I hear your words, Lord Brigham, but I fear they do not ring true. Time is running out for me, and I’m afraid new complications have arisen.”

His finger had lifted to trace the thin grooves in the panel that made up a larger pattern of decorative vines. “My lady, let us try.”

There was a long moment of stillness. When her voice came again, it was closer, as if she had pressed near the panel on her own side. “We will try,” she said. “For it is all there is to do.”

Her tone made it evident that she’d given up hope. For his part, Nickolas had not sought out his mother, had not attempted to convince Antonetta that his extortionist associate should be given a post in the marshal’s office, and was very much feeling the same sort of resigned despair that he sensed in Jules.

The Brighams would be ruined, come one thing or another. Tying himself to a Carvell or playing into a scheme of the Adairs would only make it worse. Perhaps he should renounce his title and move to the country to take up gardening, or a trade for which he had no skill at all, until their creditors came calling. Perhaps he might strip off his clothes and dance atop the courtyard wall to have it all done with faster.

“You look quite fine,” he said dourly to his reflection. “Even if it may be the last time you’ll dress in velvet and gilt trim.” He’d chosen his finest black coat to wear over the stiff white shirt, with black pants and black shoes. His mask was sleek and dark, shaped to cover him from nose to brow. The only spot of color would be Jules on his arm.

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