Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom: The Rake and the Heiress / Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem

He smiled reassuringly. ‘Charles is a very good friend, there’s no need to worry. Stay for coffee at least.’

She agreed because it would seem rude not to, sitting down in her usual chair by the fire. In the presence of Nicholas’s friend all the impropriety of their situation hit home with a vengeance. She was embarrassed and disconcerted. Frustrated, too, for she had hoped to get the difficult conversation she had resolved to have with Nicholas out of the way as soon as possible.

Charles chatted amicably about the house party he had temporarily abandoned, the latest on dits, and a wager made on a race between a frog and a chicken. By the time Nicholas recounted the story of his first meeting with Serena, she had relaxed enough to be able to laugh about it.

‘I thought he was a groom. It never occurred to me that I was watching the master of the house stripped to the waist and fighting the local blacksmith.’ She looked up teasingly at Nicholas, who was standing with his back to the fireplace. He returned the look with a smile of such warmth that she raised a hand towards him, remembered that they were not alone, and dropped it. Remembered, too, her resolve to put an end to things between them.

Charles observed the by-play with interest. Now he had met her, it didn’t surprise him that Nick had kept such a beauty hidden away. She was almost flawless, the mysterious Mademoiselle Stamppe, it would take a strong man indeed to resist her charms. It wasn’t like Nick to be so reticent about his lady loves. He had carefully refrained from discussing Serena, though it was obvious they were intimate. Their bodies gave them away, constantly moving towards one another. The way they looked at each other, too. And that smile—they might as well have kissed. Nick was in deep with his adventuress. Charles wondered if he realised just how deep.

‘I hope you won, Nick. The fight, I mean.’

‘Of course I did. Samuel landed a couple of good punches, but he’s slow.’

‘You’re getting too old for that sort of thing.’

‘I know, I know.’ Nicholas looked down at his hands, the faint scars the only reminder of the recent mill. ‘I tell myself that I won’t do it any more, but you know how it is. I can’t resist a challenge.’

‘Yes, but the next time you might lose. Give it up, Nick, you’re almost thirty. Time you settled down.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Nicholas said curtly. He didn’t want to think about his father’s damned will.

‘You’ve got less than three months left,’ Charles continued blithely.

‘Not now, Charles.’

Watching him, Serena was confused by the lessthan-subtle change of subject. The awkwardness of her situation returned to her. She rose to go. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Avesbury.’ She curtsied, then turned to Nicholas. ‘May I speak with you tomorrow? There is a matter I am most anxious to resolve with you.’

‘You are not the only one who is anxious for resolution,’ Nicholas whispered in her ear.

Serena blushed furiously, then looked stricken. ‘I will see myself out.’ She left, resolutely closing the door before he could demand to know what was wrong.

Nicholas and Charles passed a pleasant day tooling Charles’s phaeton round the countryside, before partaking of a rustic meal at an inn some miles from High Knightswood.

‘I bumped into your sister and your stepmama at Almack’s the other day,’ Charles said, touching his whip to his horses. ‘Georgie was queening it over a pack of young pups.’

‘Brat. Did you speak to them?’

‘Of course I did, for I had already determined to come and see you. Georgie wanted to know when you were coming back to town, and said to be sure and tell you that she’s a blazing success. Melissa was—well, you know what Melissa’s like.’

Charles concentrated on overtaking a lumbering cart. ‘Dashed attractive woman, that Serena of yours,’he continued when the manoeuvre had been stylishly executed.

‘Very,’ Nicholas agreed drily. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Ain’t implying anything. I’m happy to tell you straight to your face, Nick, it’s obvious how things are between you two. The way you were looking at each other put me to the blush. Don’t tell me it’s finally happened,’ he said with a sudden guffaw of laughter. ‘Has the lovely mademoiselle given you a coup de foudre?’

‘You’re being ridiculous Charles, I’m not in love with her.’

‘Whatever you say. It’s just occurred to me, though—maybe Jasper wasn’t too far off the mark after all.’

‘What’s my cousin got to do with this?’

‘Fretting himself to death at the thought of you getting hitched.’

‘But I’ve no intention of getting married. Leastways, not until it’s absolutely necessary.’

‘Lawyers still claiming they’re making progress? Depend upon it, they’ll be saying that on the day of your birthday, it’s what you pay ’em for. Don’t believe a word of it. You need to get hitched, no two ways about it, and the perfect candidate’s fallen like a ripe peach into your hands. Beautiful, obviously more than willing—in fact, I’d say the chit’s besotted with you, although you don’t notice, of course—and, what’s more, not someone who will give you any trouble.’

‘You’re serious,’Nicholas said incredulously, staring at his friend as if he had just escaped from Bedlam.

‘Of course I am. Think about it for a moment. I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the severity of your plight. If you don’t marry, you’ll lose everything.’

‘Not everything, I’ll still have the Hall and estate.’

‘Much good they’ll do you without funds. You’ll have to give up your gaming, your expensive women, your hunters. You’ll have to rusticate here for ever, in penury.’

‘It won’t come to that.’

‘It’s coming mighty close,’ Charles said exasperatedly. ‘You can’t let Jasper inherit, Nick. What isn’t swallowed up by his debts will be tossed away on the hazard table. He’s playing very deep these days, he’d be back under the hatches in less than a year.’

‘I am aware of that. But it doesn’t alter the fact that I have no desire at all to be married.’

‘What makes you so much against it?’

‘An inherent dislike of being coerced into doing something I have no desire to do, for a start.’

‘Bloodymindedness, in other words.’

‘If you like.’ Nicholas sighed deeply. ‘Of course I don’t want Jasper to inherit.’

‘Then marry your Serena,’ Charles said stubbornly. ‘Devil take it, Nick, it’s not like you to be so dense. She’s perfect. My guess is she’s the by-blow of some gentleman, you don’t get a nose like that from common stock. She’s well mannered, well turned out—need I go on?’

‘So you’re suggesting a marriage of convenience.’

‘Convenient enough for both of you, certainly. You keep your fortune. She gets your name. You can pension her off after a respectable time—say a year.’

‘You underestimate my dear parent. There is a clause in his will that no one else, not even Jasper, has knowledge of. If my marriage is terminated by anything other than death, Jasper inherits.’ Nicholas smiled at the shocked expression on his friend’s face. ‘My father constructed a matrimonial prison for me, with a life sentence as punishment. I will find a way to break it—I must. Now let us drop the subject, once and for all.’

Charles pulled the phaeton up at the front door of the Hall, refusing the offer of a bed for the night. ‘Didn’t mean to offend you, Nick.’

‘It’s all right, Charles. I simply won’t be told how to run my life. Not by my father, not by Jasper or even, my dear fellow, by you.’

Charles grinned. ‘Truth be told, Nick, I’m pretty set on doing the deed myself. Don’t want to offend the future mother-in-law, best be on my way before they send out a search party.’

‘Give my regards to Lady Cheadle, and accept my felicitations, if I’m not being premature.’

‘Well, it’s fairly certain. I’m to have an audience with Lord Cheadle in the morning—settlements, you know. She’s a compliant little thing, Penelope, she’ll do well enough. Take a leaf from my book, Nick, before it’s too late.’ Charles pulled his caped driving coat more securely around him and tightened the reins. With a crack of the whip he set his horses trotting briskly down the path, only to pull them up almost immediately. ‘Stamppe,’ he called back, ‘knew it would come to me. It’s the family name of the Vespians. Saw the announcement in the Morning Post the other day, the fifth earl died in Paris last year. Your Serena must be some distant relative.’ With a twirl of his whip, he set off again.

Nicholas headed for the library, demanding the last few days’ copies of the Morning Post. While Hughes retrieved the newspapers from the butler’s pantry and hastily ironed them flat, Nicholas poured himself a glass of Madeira and thought about Serena.