Chapter 30

Mercy could count on one finger the number of humiliating experiences that were worse than setting foot in the music room last night. The only thing worse had been meeting Nicholas's eyes in the library after he'd discovered she'd been trying to foist him off on other women.

Thankfully, she hadn't seen Nicholas since. He hadn't been at breakfast, nor had he shown up in the drawing room later. Lady Ottersby had made an excuse for him, but the truth of the matter was, Nicholas must not want to see her any more than she wanted to see him.

Mercy turned the page of her book. She'd sequestered herself in a corner of the parlor so that if he did decide to show up, at least he would be capable of ignoring her in her current location. But most of the party had been here an hour already, and she'd finally stopped jumping at every movement thinking it might be him. Thirty more minutes and she could excuse herself to go rest in her room. If she simply would have told her parents the truth about what had happened with Nicholas, they never would have brought her here.

But her parents already had one daughter they were extremely disappointed in. She couldn't bring herself to add herself to that list.

The door opened, and just like every other time someone moved or left, Mercy's eyes darted to the door. But this time, it was him. Nicholas.

She hadn't dared to look at him the night before, at least not until he'd been sitting in front of her, and even though she knew she should put her head back in her book, she couldn't pull her eyes away from him. His hair was slightly longer than it had been in London, as if he hadn't bothered to keep it perfectly tamed while in the country. But his clothing was still impeccable, the cut of his coat accenting the breadth of his shoulders and his trim waist. The sight of him brought on the familiar ache of loss. His eyes caught her looking at him, and she quickly turned away.

She couldn't remember where she'd been in the book. She couldn't even concentrate well enough to make out a single word. She'd spent the last two months thinking about Nicholas and the long list of her sins against him. She'd never felt the need to impress anyone before. If people enjoyed her company, wonderful. If they didn't, she didn't worry about it. Nicholas was the only person in the world she coveted acceptance from, and he happened to be the one person in the world who had every reason to despise her.

Needless to say, she hadn't been sleeping well at night.

A shadow fell over the book she wasn't reading, and her eyes slid from her book to the sharp line of a perfectly ironed pair of trousers. She swallowed and looked up.

Nicholas wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either. He gave her an almost imperceptible bow. "Lady Mercy, I'm looking for a partner for chess. Would you be interested?"

Perhaps no one was looking at the two of them; it was impossible to say since Mercy couldn't look away from the pair of eyes she'd missed for two months, but it felt as though everyone in the room must be. "Are you certain you would like to play with me? I'm not very skilled."

"I am aware of your skills, and yes, I would like to play with you, but only if you are willing. If you aren't, I will find someone else."

Mercy snapped her book closed. "I'm willing."

She had seen the chess table when she'd first entered the drawing room and had purposely avoided it. She followed Nicholas, and he pulled her chair out for her. The chess pieces were already on the table, laid out and ready for them to start.

Nicholas sat and motioned for her to make the first move. Without putting more thought into it than just survival of the next half hour, she slid one of her pawns forward.

Nicholas lifted his hand to one of his pieces. "How are you enjoying your stay at Brushbend?" he asked and then made his move.

Thus far, her stay had been tortuous. His home was beautiful, his family a delight, and he was so far out of her reach she might as well be in Austria. "It's been lovely." His mouth quirked as if he knew she was lying. She shouldn't be lying to Nicholas. He didn't deserve that. "What I mean to say is, my family appreciates your hospitality very much."

She shook her head, grateful the table was situated far enough from the other guests for them to be out of earshot. How was she going to survive this? She moved another pawn.

Nicholas studied the chessboard as if they had moved more than three pieces and he knew what he was doing. After more than a minute of deliberation, he moved another pawn, then looked up at her. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

"If that was at all my fault, I'm sorry. I begged my parents to let me stay in London or visit Rosalind in Austria. I haven't told them everything that happened between us, so they didn't know how unpleasant it would be for you to have me here. They are innocent in causing you pain."

Nicholas's face was unreadable. "Your apology for descending upon my home is accepted. Now I need to ask you a few questions, and I need you to answer truthfully. Can you do that?"

Mercy bit her lip. "I don't know."

Nicholas tipped his head to one side. "Well, that is honest, at least." He motioned with his chin to her side of the chessboard. She'd forgotten they were playing. She moved her knight. "If it helps, nothing you say will change the way I feel about you. It's been two months since we've seen each other, and that is longer than the time we spent courting. The past is in the past; I'm simply trying to understand it."

His intention there was clear. No matter what she said, or what explanations she gave, he wouldn't be renewing his interest in her. Whatever feelings he'd had were gone, and they wouldn't be returning. She would never again kiss the man who sat across from her, with or without a cravat involved. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to let the past slide away, as he must have. "In that case, yes. I will try my best, and if I cannot tell the truth, at least I will not lie."

"Thank you." Nicholas moved his rook forward four spaces. "Was your sister at your home the night of the ball?"

Mercy had started reaching for a pawn, but her hand froze. She'd been prepared to answer questions about Lady Plymton and Miss Morgan. She hadn't thought Rosalind would be a part of their conversation. "I would rather not answer that question."

Nicholas nodded and didn't press her further—he must not have been too desperate for an answer. She slid a pawn forward one space.

"Lady Yolten gave me the note from Lady Plymton. Did you know she was going to do that?"

"We'd spoken of it, yes."

"When?"

"Before the ball."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to be more specific."

She shouldn't tell him. It was better for everyone if he simply thought the worst of her. But she'd lain awake too many nights wanting to explain this exact point. She looked him in the eye and willed him not to read anything more into her answer than the fact that she hadn't wanted to hurt him. "It was two days before the ball, and with all the excitement of the evening, I'd forgotten our plan. I've wanted to apologize daily for the past two months for putting you in that position. If I'd known more about your past, I never would have done it."

Nicholas nodded, then put a hand to his chin and looked so intently at the board one would think he was memorizing it. "Are you in love with me?" he asked.

Mercy ducked her head down and glanced furtively at the other people in the room. "What? You can't ask me that."

He looked up, calm as if he'd only just asked her about the condition of the weather. "I wasn't aware we had put parameters around these questions other than that you wouldn't lie to me."

"Well, I won't answer that question. It is impertinent, even for a duke."

"All right, I'll rephrase the question. Do you regret not getting engaged to me?"

This she could answer and answer truthfully. In the past month her family had been shunned, her sister disgraced, and Mercy had never once wanted to put Nicholas through that. Not after everything he'd already endured at the hand of Lady Plymton.

She'd followed what was happening in the House of Lords thanks to her father, and even though Nicholas remained out of London unless there was an extremely important vote, Nicholas was starting to gain a reputation there. A good one. Already the budget for relief efforts had been increased by a third, and she knew he'd finally hit his stride with the members of Parliament.

If she'd married him and then Rosalind's actions had become known, he would not garner the same respect he had now. "No, I don't. I wish you all the best in the world. You deserve it. And if you feel any regret over—" She paused. How much had those stolen moments with her in the drawing room cost him? Hopefully not as much as they'd cost her. "Anything, I absolve you of it. You only followed my lead. I've seen what you've been accomplishing these past few months in Parliament, and I'm glad to see you moving forward and not back."

A muscle clenched in Nicholas's jaw, and he moved his bishop to the middle of the chessboard almost without looking at it. "I speak of love, and you speak of Parliament. How the tables have turned."

"That was always what our courtship was about, wasn't it?"

He caught her eye, and for a moment, she was lost in what might have been. He shook his head slowly. "No, it was not."

Mercy waited for a follow-up question, but none came. Mercy slid a bishop a few spaces forward and to the right. As soon as her finger came off the piece, Nicholas took one of her knights with his rook. Blast, she needed to start paying attention. His rook was in prime position to make it to her back row on his next move. She moved her bishop so it would prevent him from going there.

Then he took her bishop with his queen.

Move after move, it was like Nicholas was one step ahead of her. Every time she thought she knew what he was thinking, it ended up being a trap. What was going on? He'd never played with her so decisively before.

She gave up thinking about her moves and simply started moving her pieces faster. She moved a pawn forward, and Nicholas slid his queen to the back of the board. He took one solid look at all the pieces and then caught her eye. "Checkmate."

She glanced down at the board. They'd only just started playing. He couldn't be right. But he was. Her king was trapped. He'd won. Her voice was shaky when she looked up. "What just happened?"

"I've been practicing for the past two months with my valet. He is quite good. And I told myself if I ever got the chance to match you in wits again, this time, I'd win."

His smile held no malice, and his victory was anything but boastful. It was more the look of a man that had just shared a secret with her. The spark in his eye made Mercy think perhaps the two of them could be, well, not friends exactly, but acquaintances at least. That was better than enemies at any rate. She returned his grin. "Well, you've executed that plan marvelously. I didn't stand a chance. Congratulations."

He stood from the table and turned away, but before he got more than two steps, he turned back to her. "Don't congratulate me yet, I'm not done matching wits with you. I will see you this evening at dinner, Lady Mercy." Then he strode out of the room.