Page 60 of House of Thorns
“Come in.” Nicholas stood aside.
“I came as soon as I could, my lord,” the man huffed.
“I thank you.” Nicholas nodded to the empty chair before the fire. “Whisky?”
“Please.”
Nicholas waited until he’d settled the man before the fire, drink in hand, before questioning, “Lord Randall? You have news?”
“Aye. The man teeters on the verge of ruin. Nay, he stands upon a precipice. He’s desperate,” Mr. Timms continued, withdrawing a sheet of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “The charities were swindles, my lord. He targeted lonely, wealthy women.”
Nicholas’s brows yanked up in surprise. “How long?”
“How long, my lord?”
“Lord Randall’s bankruptcy? When did he fall into ruin?”
“It was his father that fell, my lord.”
Nicholas blinked, surprised. A puzzle, indeed, and one many years in the making. So, it was Henrietta’s wealth that had compelled the man to seduce and ruin her. His lack of emotion upon her death now made sense.
Again, there was a knock on his door. Curious, Nicholas looked at the clock. The hour was late. Near midnight.
He heard her sultry voice before he saw her. She was speaking the instant the door began to open.
“I came the moment I received your letter,mon amour.”
Florinda Marie de Bussonne, the Lark of Paris. She stood before him, perfect, seductive—from the elaborate ringlets spilling over one shoulder to the soft white silk of an evening gown, caressing each curve in the most flattering way.
Nicholas smiled and stepped back, eyeing her appreciatively as she passed before him.
She’d scarcely entered the room before she was slipping her arms around his neck to pull his head down for a kiss. Of course, he obliged, but the kiss was a chaste one.
He stepped away.
Florinda’s expressive brown eyes lit with interest. “Who is she?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Pardon?”
She smiled, a playful pout. “Only a Nicholas in love would kiss me so. A Nicholasnotin love with me.”
“Pardon, my lord,” Mr. Timms cleared his throat, his face beet red. “Shall I be leaving?”
Nicholas grinned as Florinda’s lips formed a perfect ‘o.’ “I thought you were alone,” she murmured before turning to the man. “Do not leave on my account, please.”
“My business was done, madame,” Mr. Timms assured as he clapped his hat onto his head. “My lord.” He bowed.
Nicholas nodded in return. “Keep me informed of any further news, will you?”
“Aye, my lord,” the man promised.
The next moment, Timms vanished down the darkened hallway and Nicholas shut the door.
“Nicholas,” Florinda began, lowering her lashes.
“Olivia. Her name is Olivia.” Nicholas chuckled.
Florinda’s dark lashes fluttered and her pout deepened. “Then, it is this Olivia that has stolen you from me? For how long?”
Indeed. How long? Chuckling, Nicholas found himself reaching for the door, yet again. “I fear, it will be a long time, Florinda. Now that I think on the matter, it’s best you stay elsewhere this night to prevent misunderstandings. Allow me to procure you a room.”
He stepped into the hall, and as she followed, he offered her a gallant arm.
Florinda sighed. “And how long is a ‘long time,’ dear Nicholas?”
There was only one true response to that question. He knew that now. “A lifetime.”
