Chapter 31

When Lady Bryant suggested a walk in the garden before dinner, Mercy jumped at the chance to spend an hour or so out of the house and in conversation with someone who was more or less uninformed as to what had happened between her and Nicholas.

She needed a distraction from Nicholas's declaration about matching wits. What had he meant? He'd seemed friendly during chess, but was that all a ruse? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security and then find some way to make her pay for her treatment of him? She didn't know, but getting away from the house and away from him was an opportunity she wasn't going to pass up.

After fetching their coats, a footman pointed them in the direction of large double doors that opened to a massive stone balcony overlooking the acres of land spilling out behind Brushbend. She'd seen the garden through the window, but that view hadn't done it justice. At the center of the garden was a massive lake. A boathouse stood on the side closest to them, but dotted around the lake were follies and gardens and hills to explore.

Lady Bryant tightened her grip on her arm and turned to her, eyes sparkling. "Which side of the lake should we see first?"

Lady Bryant's excitement was contagious. To the left, Mercy could just make out an octagonal structure, most likely a folly, and to the right, there seemed to be some kind of ruins—broken walls and structures with flowers and plants growing around them.

"The right side," Mercy answered. "The ruins look fascinating."

Lady Bryant nodded with excitement. "I agree."

The two of them crossed to the end of the balcony and climbed down the stone steps. A path opened before them, and they followed it.

The ruins had seemed close by when they stood on the balcony, but as they traversed the path, they came across small gardens of flowers and benches, as well as a bridge that crossed over one tendril part of the lake. Each little mystery had to be explored.

Lady Bryant leaned over the bridge railing. "Can you imagine growing up in a place like this?"

Mercy looked back at the palace behind her. It was much grander than her family's country estate, and she could see from the changes in bricks that at least two additions had been constructed since it was originally built. Probably by one of Nicholas's irresponsible ancestors. Even still, the home paled in comparison to the garden. She would have happily spent hours exploring a garden like this as a child. Had Nicholas known how fortunate he was? No wonder Lady Plymton was so easily able to charm him. He'd had a fairy-tale existence until she'd come along.

After crossing the bridge, the path dipped low, and they took their steps carefully until it flattened out again, just to the side of the lake. They both stopped to take in the sinking sun as it glistened on top of the water.

The crunching of feet on the path behind them made them both turn.

"Ollie!" Lady Ottersby called out before they could even see her. First her feet came into view and then the rest of her as she walked carefully down the hill Mercy and Lady Bryant had just descended.

She was alone. Thankfully.

"Oh," Lady Ottersby said when she saw the two of them. "Have you seen Ollie?"

"You mean that horse you call a pet?" Lady Bryant asked.

"The same." Lady Ottersby smiled and turned to Mercy. "He is actually a Great Dane, not a horse. Did he come this way?"

"Not that I know of, sorry," Mercy answered.

Lady Ottersby's face scrunched into a pout. "Blast."

Mercy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Hearing such a word from Nicholas's sister's mouth was unexpected, to say the least.

"We could help you find him," Lady Bryant offered. "Where does he like to go?"

"A few places, and I'm afraid one of them is the falconry on the opposite side of the lake. I need to find him before he reaches it and terrifies the inmates."

Lady Bryant squeezed Mercy's hand. "Lady Mercy and I are up for a run, aren't we?"

Mercy glanced at the two women. After weeks of only Penelope and Lady Ottersby's company at quiet afternoon visits, a spot of brightness rose in her chest. They looked ready for anything. "Of course I am."

"Wonderful," Lady Ottersby said. "I will head directly to the falconry. He also loves the tulip garden and grotto. We will reach those first. Could you each look through one? Ollie is large but harmless. If you find him, take him by the collar and meet me back at the house. First is the tulip garden, which extends to the right, and past that, the grotto dips underground. It's a man-made cave, of sorts. Thank you so much."

Lady Ottersby dashed down the path. Lady Bryant grinned at her and dashed forward as well. Mercy lifted her skirts and followed. Just as Lady Ottersby had said, they reached the tulip garden first. "I'll look here. You head to the grotto," Lady Bryant told her.

Mercy nodded and pushed forward. She could still see Lady Ottersby ahead of her, and at a fork in the path, Lady Ottersby stopped for a moment and pointed Mercy toward the right and then continued on.

Mercy reached the path moments later. Just as Lady Ottersby had said, the path dipped low and to the right. Almost immediately, there was a cave-like entrance with stone walls. Who thought of such things to put in a garden?

She entered the cave, which quickly took a turn, blanketing her in darkness. The air was damp and several degrees cooler than the path she'd been on. Ten feet after the turn, the low tunnel-like cave opened up into a cavern, complete with a small waterfall on one side.

And next to the waterfall stood Nicholas.

She slid to a stop. With his back to her, he stood watching the water as it cascaded from a hole in the roof. The soft roar of the waterfall had muted her footsteps, and he didn't turn. The spray from the water and splash of sunlight coming from above him made Nicholas look like a woodland king. Or, rather, it would have, if woodland kings wore expertly tailored coats.

She allowed herself a moment to study him, to memorize the way he stood, with his hand on one hip and his head lifted to the light. If she'd been a better student of oils, she would have painted him, but her skills wouldn't be able to put this moment to justice, so a memory would be all she would ever get.

That was all she would ever have of Nicholas.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, humid breath. Ollie wasn't here, and the tunnel didn't continue past the cavern. If she turned around very quietly, perhaps he wouldn't even know she'd been near him.

She stepped backward slowly, not taking her eyes off Nicholas. Her skirt grazed the edge of the wall, loosening a rock and sending it skittering toward the waterfall.

Nicholas turned.

She steeled herself for the look of disappointment and repulsion at the sight of her; one chess match wouldn't be enough to wipe away the harm she'd done, even if it had given her hope that someday they could at least be cordial to each other.

But instead of a scorn, his face lifted in a smile.

She almost fell backward at the sight of it.

"Lady Mercy, this is a pleasant surprise." His voice was low and barely audible over the sound of the waterfall behind him.

"I'm looking for Ollie. Have you seen him? I didn't know you were here." Words came cascading out of her mouth faster than the water that fell through the grotto's roof.

Nicholas stepped toward her. How could he smile at her like that? "No, I haven't seen Ollie. But you've stumbled onto one of my favorite places in all of the world."

Mercy pressed her back against the cool stone of the cavern wall. He kept coming closer, and she shouldn't be here, tainting his favorite place with her presence. "I'll go then. Your sister needs my help."

"No, Mercy, she doesn't."

"She does. She is looking for her dog."

"Ollie is back at the house, safe and sound." Nicholas looked at his hands. "A lot like how you were safe and sound when I ended up looking for you, alone, with Miss Morgan in the Zoological Garden."

Heavens above, he was going to kill her. That was the explanation for his smile; it must be. No one would find her body here. It was dark, and she caught her breath. The look in his eye was anything but murderous.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought perhaps it was time to give you a taste of your own medicine. You tried to get me alone with someone you thought I might have feelings for, and now I am doing the same."

Nicholas was only a few feet from her now. He could reach forward and touch her if he wanted. But he wouldn't want to, would he? He must hate her for what she had done, and he'd promised that no matter her answers over the chessboard, his feelings wouldn't change for her.

"What do you mean by that?" She didn't have feelings for Nicholas. Not ones that mattered, anyway. Perhaps at one point they had, but they would do her no good now. "Are you going to torment me?"

"No. At least, I hope not. I have another question for you, and once again, I need the truth. It is slightly different from the one I asked you earlier, but the distinction is important." His hand lifted, and he touched the bracelet at her wrist. His fingers were hot in the cool grotto air. "If it weren't for the fact that your sister has disappointed your family and tainted your reputation, would we be engaged today?"

Mercy closed her eyes. She couldn't look at him. It was too painful, and her wrist burned from his touch. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Is that your way of saying you would rather not answer?"

Mercy took a deep breath. He had asked for honesty. It was the least she could give him after what she had put him through. "No, Your Grace. I mean that I truly don't know."

He lifted her bracelet between his thumb and forefinger, spinning its delicate chains between them. Then he wrapped his hand around her wrist. He'd said he hadn't brought her here to torment her, but he was doing exactly that. He leaned forward. "I need you to explain to me why."

Mercy's back was pressed against the cold stone of the grotto, but even in the cool air, her body felt like it was on fire. Nicholas didn't love her. The look in his eyes was something else. It had to be. "If I answer you, do you give me the same promise—that your feelings for me will not change because of what I say?"

Nicholas grinned. "That I can guarantee."

Which meant she could tell him. He wouldn't propose again, and he wouldn't link himself to her and her scandalized family. He'd had two months to forget her, and he practically told her he had done so. "The truth is, we might have been engaged, but—"

"But?" He stepped closer, his face only inches away from hers. He didn't look like a man who'd forgotten her. He looked... like a man ready to drag her away from prying eyes and kiss her senseless.

She closed her eyes so her imagination wouldn't run away with her. "But I may not have wanted to wait two months to be married to you. So perhaps we wouldn't have been engaged, not any—"

Suddenly Nicholas's hands were on her waist. She opened her eyes to find his smile gone and the warmth in his eyes replaced by something hard. He pulled her to him, and she let out a small yelp. He hated her. He had to. But then his mouth came to her ear. "Are you telling me that if it weren't for your sister, you might already have become my wife?" The word wife came like a growl. He was angry, but perhaps not for the reasons she'd believed. For all the words that had been spilling out of her, uncontrolled, now she had none. Tears welled in her eyes. The past two months had been unbearable. Watching Rosalind spurn the love of her youth, learning which few friends of Mercy's were truly her friends, and the ache of knowing how much she had hurt Nicholas—a man who deserved only the best, while she had treated him abominably—nothing about the past two months had been endurable.

She put a hand to his chest and leaned away from him. "I didn't want to bring shame to the Harrington title. I still don't."

"The Harrington title has had its fair share of shame, Mercy. You wouldn't have fit into the family if you were completely above reproach."

Mercy's chin quivered. "I was such a fool, Nicholas."

"Yes, you were. But we have all been fools at one point or another."

She released Nicholas's chest and instead covered her face in her hands. "I never would've tried to foist you on other women had I known you could kiss me the way you did in my drawing room. I was looking for fireworks and fairy tales when, in reality, your steadfastness and honor are the things my dreams should have been made of."

Nicholas pulled her to him. "I wouldn't have been surprised to see a woman go to such lengths in order to marry me, but to have worked so hard to get rid of me? I must admit it was a blow to my pride."

Mercy let her hands fall away from her face. With Nicholas's arms around her, they had nowhere to go but on his shoulders. The softness in his eyes and the warmth of his hands at her waist seemed to imply he wouldn't mind. But did he really understand what he was signing himself up for? He hadn't been in London. He hadn't seen how her family had been treated. She was prepared to spend the rest of her life atoning for what she'd done if Nicholas would let her. But not if he would resent her for damaging his family and not if it meant ruining his chances of sending aid to Ireland. "Nicholas, I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth."

He tightened his grip at her waist. "Always," he answered.

"Is there any way you can forgive me for what I've done?" Nicholas opened his mouth to answer, but she rushed on. "And if you can, do you think I will hurt your chances of helping the Irish?"

Nicholas narrowed an eye. "That is two questions."

"Add it to my list of transgressions."

"I will." Nicholas's hands slid from her waist to her hips, and he pulled her an inch closer. "Yes, I can forgive you. And while I'm astounded by the lengths you went to get rid of me, I must also acknowledge that I never allowed you to see me as I truly was. I was so busy trying to be perfect, I never let you see my true self behind the facade. My family isn't always proper. Patience lived in disguise as a maid in Ottersby's home, for heaven's sake. But I don't begrudge them that. It is what brought them together. I was certain the way I ached for you was a fault, and I hid it. I promise you, I'll never hide it again, even if I may need to control it at times, when we are in public."

He spoke as if they were destined to be together, but he hadn't answered her second question. "And the Irish?"

"I've learned to flaunt my rank a bit since you broke my heart. It turns out that was a much faster way of getting results than actually trying to earn people's respect. At least with some of the less desirable members of Parliament, anyway. I disappointed my father a long time ago, and that regret has affected every decision I've made since. I thought by obeying every rule and only interacting within the proper constraints of Society, I would be able to control the world around me and never feel that kind of devastation again. But it didn't work. Instead, I lost you, and that, dear Mercy, became my greatest regret."

Mercy slid her hand to the back of Nicholas's neck, a movement she couldn't have imagined happening only a few moments ago. Could she truly be this fortunate? All she knew was that no story would ever live up to this one. They would have to temper it for their children; otherwise, they would become as foolishly romantic as she had been. "You haven't lost me. Not if you still want me."

Nicholas pressed his forehead to hers. "I've never wanted anything more in my life." He tipped his chin until his mouth was nearly touching her own. "Except maybe to kiss you, right now. Are you willing to agree to marry me first so I can feel better about it? Or would you rather forgo that formality and have me prove to you that Society can hang for all I care?" His voice was rough and low.

"Society can hang, and I'll marry y—"

His mouth was on hers before she finished getting the words out. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of him, the taste of his mouth on hers. He pressed forward, one hand coming to the back of her head. Her back slammed into the rough rock wall of the grotto. The air around them warmed until the chill in the air had turned to heat. The proof he'd offered in the drawing room of his desire for her paled in comparison to the fire he showed her now.

"I had so many plans for you I thought I'd have to give up on." Nicholas's face was still millimeters from hers.

"Really?" Mercy answered breathlessly.

"Yes. First, to kiss every single freckle across the bridge of your nose." His eyes focused on a spot on the left side of her face, and he placed an almost reverent kiss there. "These freckles will be kissed while we are engaged." He slid one finger down her neck and then across her collarbone. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. "And these ones I will save for when we are married."

"Please tell me that will be soon. Otherwise, I may be forced to call your bluff on that one."

In answer, he kissed the other side of her nose, then slid his lips back down to her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter. She breathed in his scent, cedarwood and starch. It mingled with the smell of earth and spring water from the grotto. When he finally pulled away, he traced his thumb over her cheek.

"Mercy, I'll marry you whenever you want. I'm yours. If this was some crazy game of chess you've been playing, you've won."

"And you thought I was terrible at chess." Mercy pushed off the wall and then spun around and pressed Nicholas against the wall instead. Then she leaned in and brought her lips to his ear. "It looks as though I've won after all." She grabbed his cravat and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Checkmate."