Chapter 16

Nicholas stood in the entrance hall of the Driarwood home and struggled to keep from pacing. For some reason, the Driarwood butler had asked him to wait here instead of showing him to the drawing room. Was he going to be dismissed?

It had been three days since Nicholas had laid eyes on Lady Mercy. Three very long days in which he debated whether or not he should have been so forthcoming to her about his involvement with Lady Plymton. It certainly looked like he shouldn't have; now her family didn't even want to admit him to the drawing room. He took two steps to the right, then clenched his jaw and kept his feet still. He was not some young, inexperienced man who couldn't control his feet while he waited to be attended to.

All thoughts of pacing left him, though, when Lady Mercy appeared alone at the top of the stairs. Her pale-pink dress was simple elegance, well cut and made from fabric sturdier than her ballgowns but just as flattering. She stopped and placed a hand on the banister, smiling down at him. But it wasn't her dress or even the fact that he hadn't seen her in days that made his breath hitch. Something had changed. In the past three days of not seeing each other, something must have changed.

Her smile was vibrant, covering her face in the joy and satisfaction of a friend or a lover reuniting after long days apart. It was a smile that spoke, and the words it said were this woman is excited to see you , as if, perhaps, like him, she had counted the last hours and then minutes until he would be in her home again. He didn't move, not certain he could trust this vision of her, but as she descended the stairs, her smile did not waver, nor did the spark in her eye diminish.

She shouldn't be coming down those stairs smiling at him like that. If anything, he had thought their last conversation would have damaged his chances. That he would have to try even harder to win her over, to convince her that despite his past, he was committed to doing everything correctly and properly with her. But he must have been wrong.

Had sharing about his history helped his cause? Lord and Lady Bryant had visited the morning after the ball, ecstatic about his choice of woman to court. Lord Bryant had wasted no time in giving him terrible flirting advice. It was all incidental touching—he would absolutely not be doing that—and longing glances—something he was quite certain he was incapable of. However, before Lord Bryant left, he'd pulled Nicholas to the side and said the one thing that actually made a bit of sense. "Touching, complimenting, eye contact. Those are great starting points and quite enjoyable. But the truth is, if you want a woman to fall in love with you, you are going to have to share yourself with her. She can't fall in love with a shadow. And when you know you want to spend the rest of your life with her, don't keep her guessing. Tell her."

When he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? Their eyes met and held while Lady Mercy made her way down the last two steps. They sparked with an energy of a woman with a plan, and based on the way they held his, for the first time, he thought her plans might include him.

Blast. He did want to spend the rest of his life with this woman. He didn't want to deal with three-day periods where he didn't see her. And if he did have to travel somewhere without her, he wanted her to be at his home when he returned. He wouldn't stand waiting near the door for her to come to him, nor would he have to tell her how much he missed her. He would rush to her, grab her by the waist before she even reached the bottom of the stairs, and show her how much he'd missed her. First, he'd let her neck know by dragging a finger softly up it to her jaw. Then he'd let her mouth in on the secret. And then she'd be completely wrapped in his arms, laughing and making certain his face, arms, neck, chest, every part of him, knew she'd missed him as well.

The pace of his heart was nearing dangerous levels when Lady Mercy reached him and held out her hand. It wasn't lifting her in the air or kissing those lips, but it was a better greeting than he'd ever received from her. Every other time they had met, she had given him wary bows or half smiles. Her hand was gloved in a soft crème leather, each finger covered in that smooth supple blanket of fabric. Perhaps she meant for him to shake it, and he should. He really should.

But her cheerful countenance had awoken the part of himself he tried so desperately to keep sleeping. Whether on account of Lord Bryant's advice still fresh in his mind or simply the desire to actually touch the marvelous woman he courted, he grasped her fingers, so soft and trusting in his hand. With his grip light, he brought her knuckles toward his lips. He moved slowly, giving her the chance to pull away or stop him, but she didn't. He placed the briefest of kisses on her fingers, and the room brightened, as if the sun had broken through the clouds outside and was streaming through the windows.

At her swift intake of breath, he dropped her hand and straightened sharply. Lady Mercy pulled her hand to her chest, and her eyes went wide, but it wasn't disgust or anger he saw in them. Only surprise.

He'd surprised her.

She'd surprised him first. He smiled, knowing full well that his smile would not bring the devastation and hope that hers did to him, but perhaps... perhaps it could bring her a bit of happiness to know he was excited to see her too. "Lady Mercy, you look lovely this afternoon."

Blast his tongue. Could he think of nothing more eloquent to say? She looked more than lovely, but any other descriptions might have come out more like poetry and less like appropriate courtship language. He needed to find some sort of middle ground when he spoke with her. Be specific , Lord Bryant had said, but telling her that her smile had given him hope or that the freckles on her face and collarbone drove him mad seemed an even worse idea than poetry.

"Thank you, Your Grace. My parents are already in the drawing room, as well as a few other guests. I wanted to warn you that we would not be alone."

"Actually, we are alone. Next time, it would be no trouble for me to wait in the drawing room, no matter the company."

Lady Mercy's smile faltered slightly, just at the corners, and if she weren't standing so close to him, he might have missed it. "My parents won't think anything of the two of us standing here with them on the other side of the door, and Mrs. Brooksby is just down the corridor."

"And you don't mind?" If Lady Mercy had a fault, and he wasn't completely certain she did, it would be that she was too trusting. If she knew how much he thought of her when they were apart or, worse, the way he was thinking of her now, she would be more careful. He'd spent years bottling up the emotions he'd allowed to control his life with Lady Plymton, and now that he was turning the keys in those locks, he was afraid whatever he'd imprisoned might escape with such force that he would terrify the woman who stood so innocently before him.

She laughed in a way that made him quite certain she did not see into his mind and arched an eyebrow. "Do you have some evil design on me that you can accomplish silently in the next thirty seconds?"

Her laughter was tranquil and spontaneous, and it echoed in the hall, even after it was gone. Telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her didn't count as an evil plan, did it? "I don't."

She smiled a soft smile and sighed in what he thought might be contentment. They stood there, silent, watching the stairs and occasionally taking glimpses at each other, neither of them feeling a strong enough desire to speak to break the comfortable quiet of just being near each other.

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and savored the moment. Somehow, his plan was working. Everything was falling into place. Lady Mercy had become comfortable with him, smiled at him, and even trusted him. His feelings for her were steadily growing, whether they were together or apart.

He had known doing things the proper way would work. Despite Patience being blissfully happy in her innocent yet ill-gotten marriage, he knew that wasn't the only way to find happiness. It couldn't be. And yet, he still scarcely believed he could be so fortunate.

Lady Mercy cleared her throat softly, and he turned to her. "I believe you know Lord and Lady Yolten?"

"Yes." Not very well, but he knew them. He had seen a few marriages made between those with titles and money, but he had never seen one happier than Lord and Lady Yolten's. Lady Yolten was an interesting young lady. He was never certain how she would answer or respond to any given situation. She and his sister, Patience, would make for extreme trouble if they ever got to know each other well.

"Lady Yolten is my closest friend. She and a friend of hers are in the drawing room. Shall we join them?"

He nodded. As long as he had the opportunity to spend time with Lady Mercy, he didn't care if all of London descended upon her home. Lady Mercy wrapped her hand around his arm, and almost without thinking, he placed his hand on top of hers and gave her fingers the slightest of squeezes before letting his hand drop back down to his side. Twice. Twice he had held her hand today. And after he had convinced himself he would ignore that piece of advice from Lord Bryant.

"Wonderful." Lady Mercy's voice was light and airy. "Lady Yolten's friend is Miss Morgan."

Nicholas missed a step. Miss Morgan was in the drawing room? Miss Morgan was calculating to a fault, and Lady Yolten was one of the most unique, but also genuine, women in London. He never would have thought the two of them would be close friends.

This day had just become much more complicated.

Lady Mercy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Was his distress noticeable? He straightened his spine and plastered a smile on his face. He had spent the last two years pretending to be delighted every time he saw Miss Morgan, even flirting with her when necessary to keep her appeased. There were several other people who knew of the indiscretions that had led to Patience's marriage, but he trusted every single other person to keep it a secret.

Every person except Miss Morgan and her family.

"I take it you know Miss Morgan?" Lady Mercy said, with a low strange tone in her voice.

Blast. He hadn't hidden his surprise—not at all. "Yes, we are acquainted," he said stiffly.

"Well then," Lady Mercy said, the strange quality in her voice gone. Perhaps he had imagined it. "This should be a delightful afternoon. She mentioned she knew you."

"She did?" Blast. Had she told Lady Mercy about Patience? How could it be that Miss Morgan was the friend Lady Yolten invited? He wanted to curse. He was fully prepared to follow Lord Bryant's advice and confess his feelings toward Lady Mercy, but instead, now he would be involved in a game of cat and mouse with Miss Morgan.

"What did she say?"

"Oh, not much more than that you knew each other. Why? Is there more to it than that?"

Nicholas smiled, but he couldn't get his mouth to work just right. The corners wouldn't turn up properly. Nor could he answer her—not honestly. He could tell Lady Mercy about what happened to Patience. She might not even think any less of anyone for it. But perhaps the story would be told better if Patience were the one to tell it. Especially if his hopes of the two of them becoming sisters-in-law came to fruition. But even more than that, it'd been mere days since he told Lady Mercy about Lady Plymton, and to have the two most scandalous events of his life shared with Lady Mercy without any breathing room between? He couldn't open his mouth and do it.