“Yes. Yes,” Nicholas called up. He felt his cheeks redden—he hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped. His face twisted into a bitter expression. He hated feeling a fool—it was bad enough being so marred by his scar.
He went inside and to his bedchamber, where he undressed, blew out the lamps and got into bed. As he lay there, the face of the hazel-eyed young woman who’d bumped into him drifted into his mind. He pushed the thought away.
Just a foolish girl,he told himself with annoyance.
He rolled over restlessly. She hadn’t been foolish, and he knew it. She’d looked up at him with curiosity, not horror or disgust, and that was why he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts.
You’re indulging in frivolity,he told himself harshly.
He rolled over again and shut his eyes, determined to go to sleep.
***
The next morning, at half-past seven, Nicholas was sitting in the coach again. The tall stone buildings lining Waterloo Place slipped past, then they moved past the theater, up towards Aldford House. His mother had remarried Lord Aldford, an earl, following his own father’s passing fifteen years ago. Nicholas was just thirteen then. Henry, Lord Aldford, was a good man, and he was not sorry that his mother had chosen as she had. His half-sisters, twin girls named Clarissa and Marcia, were among his favorite people in the world, though he wasn’t sure he was looking forward to their noisy giggles and banter now that he was so tired.
The butler let him in as soon as he strode up the stairs, and, once inside, Nicholas headed up the carpeted stairs to the drawing room. There, he found himself greeted with the shrieks of two young girls.
“Nicholas! You’re here!” Clarissa yelled excitedly, running to embrace him.
“You got here! Was the traffic terrible?” Marcia asked, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.
Nicholas smiled at his sisters fondly as he hugged them. They were young, and looked identical in the opinion of everyone who met them for the first time, though Nicholashad always thought they looked quite different. He squeezed them close, the light floral and lavender of their perfumes overpowering his nostrils. Their blonde heads of hair pressed against his shoulders. He grinned and bowed as his mother appeared, extricating himself gently from his sisters’ embraces.
“Clarissa. Marcia. Lovely to see you,” he addressed them warmly. “Now, if I might, I’d like to get this wet coat off.” He hadn’t even paused at the door to let the butler take his things but had hurried immediately upstairs. His sisters grinned at him warmly.
“You’re soaking,” Clarissa told him, her nose wrinkling. Marcia chuckled.
“It’s raining, so we can’t expect him not to be.”
“There are such things as oilskin coats nowadays,” Clarissa said loftily.
Nicholas chuckled. He felt his mood lift as he passed the coat and hat to the butler and settled down in a big leather-backed chair.
“I had to hurry,” he explained. “As it is, I had to wake up early to avoid the early morning crowds at the marketplace.”
“How horrid,” Clarissa opined.
Nicholas laughed.
“Nicholas. Son,” his mother greeted him warmly as she embraced him, and Nicholas held her tight against him. With thesame wavy blonde hair as his sisters—albeit now gray-spangled—and large pale blue eyes, his mother was a gentle, lovely presence in his life. “So good that you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be here,” Nicholas breathed thankfully. He shook Henry’s hand. His stepfather, Henry Dartnell, was a good man. He had a squarish face and a thin-lipped mouth that nonetheless seemed made for grinning. He shook Nicholas’ hand enthusiastically.
“Come and sit down for some breakfast, eh?” Henry offered. “You must be chilled through. Dash that rain.”
“Henry,” Mama said in gentle reproach.
“Papa’s swearing,” Clarissa teased.
“He knows it’s rude,” her sister added gently.
Mama looked at them fondly. “Let’s go to the breakfast-room, girls,” she said caringly. “Nicholas wants to sit down too. And I’m sure he’ll be pleased to tell us about the ball he attended. He’ll be pleased to hear all about the ball that you attended at Lady Amerhurst's last night too.”
“Oh! Yes! The ball! It was so diverting,” Clarissa breathed excitedly.
“It was charming. The music was excellent,” Marcia told him softly.
Nicholas grinned, listening as the girls detailed their evening, replete with descriptions of dresses and who dancedwhich dance. His head was pounding after their lively banter, and he gratefully accepted a cup of tea as his mother poured him one.
