CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nicholas was acutely aware of Clarissa’s silence. Her face was a picture of conflict as she listened to her mother. Nicholas did not like to see the concern and pain that chased one another across her countenance as she twisted her hands before her in indignation.

Her mother was still speaking, but Nicholas had ceased listening some time ago. As he was about to speak directly to Miss Crompton to attempt to pull her out of her melancholy, he saw his aunt approaching.

“I would speak with you about our next activity, Miss Crompton,” Eleanor said, offering her arm. Clarissa took it without question. As the two women moved away, his aunt gave Nicholas a stern look.

His stomach dropped as he thought of all she had told him about his intentions. She believed him to lack honour with Clarissa. And is she not correct? He thought. I have no intention of staying in England for any great length of time. This is foolish.

Then why am I unable to stay away from her?

Seeing Lord and Lady Wilde approaching as though to speak with him, Nicholas quickly slipped out of a rear door.

He stood in the corridor, trying to gather his thoughts, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt. He quickly walked to the library to be in a silent space with his thoughts.

As he closed the door, the hubbub of the voices in the living room faded from hearing, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He walked to the window, and the action of walking felt so useful that he turned back around and walked to the door. After a little while, he was pacing agitatedly between the shelves, walking up and down, lost in thought.

Is my aunt correct? Should I stop spending any significant time with Miss Crompton?

He knew that it would be the best course of action, but somehow, his mind would not agree to it. He could not get her out of his head. When she had entered the breakfast room that morning, he had never seen her look so beautiful. Her kindness to her cousin only confirmed her sweet nature, and he had been entranced as he had watched her walk about the house. She had complimented everyone and been the picture of kindness.

When she had fallen from the steps, he had been at her side almost instantaneously. In truth, he had been watching her for some time. When her foot had slipped, his heart nearly stopped in his chest. When he’d held her in his arms, it beat so incessantly that he was certain the whole company would be able to hear it.

She had looked at him in a way that had stirred hope in his heart. She did not appear as indifferent as she had seemed. It had felt as though something was shared between them at that moment that could not be taken back.

As he walked about the library in great agitation, the door opened to reveal Henry, who entered with purpose. He had clearly seen Nicholas come into the library alone.

“Whatever is the matter, old chap? You look positively wild.”

Nicholas did not reply, running a hand through his hair, at a loss as to what to say.

“Whatever is it?” Henry asked, although he gave him a knowing stare. “You have been rather distracted today. Or at least, when Miss Crompton was not in the room, you were rather attentive. Your attention seemed to shift rapidly the moment she arrived.” He grinned, but the smile faded quickly as he took in Nicholas’s expression.

Henry came toward him with concern as he looked over his face.

“What is it, Bolton?

Nicholas opened his mouth to deny it. He usually would have made light of the situation, brushed it aside, and carried on, but he could not do it. Henry’s understanding gaze was penetrating, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he confessed. Henry’s eyebrows raised in obvious surprise but then he smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That is excellent, my friend. Surely this is to be celebrated?”

Nicholas shook his head vigorously and resumed pacing.

“You know of my reputation, Henry. You, better than anyone. Indeed, you spent some time with me in Paris, and we had… well, it was an enjoyable month.”

Henry chuckled. “It was, but I have always known the reason for it. That hideous woman undid you for the longest time. I very much hope Victoria Maddox, as she is now, is utterly miserable in her Highland castle.”

Nicholas gave him a warning glare as he passed him, his feet unable to remain still.

“I wish I had never met her. I wish that I had had more sense, but I was a young man and believed my heart to be broken.”

“Was it not?”

“I did not feel for Victoria what I do for Miss Crompton. That is all I can attest to at the moment.”

Henry kept smiling, but his eyes were confused. “My dear Bolton, this is a good thing.”

“How so?” Nicholas cried. “Why would a woman like Miss Crompton look at me? She must know that every good woman in society sees me for the rake I am.”

“The rake you were,” Henry insisted. “You are not like that any longer.”

“I would have been,” Nicholas said guiltily. “I anticipated returning to Paris to meet with many women I had known there. It was my primary target when I came back. I wanted to go to Italy and continue as before. I have not been so very bad as some have said, but I am hardly proud of myself.”

Henry scowled and came forward, taking hold of his shoulders.

“Nicholas,” he said firmly, “you are one of the best men I know. You have guarded your heart, and you have always been honest with any lady you have been involved with. That is far better than many others I know.”

“Precisely,” said Nicholas, shaking him off. “I am the better portion of a very long list of men who I am sure Clarissa Crompton would avoid at all costs.”

“Well then, if you do like her as you say. What will you do?”

Nicholas stopped, turning to his friend in consternation. Henry shrugged.

“If you enjoy her company, and you see a future with her of any kind, how will you convince her that you are a changed man? No matter what you say about your plans for the continent I have believed you to have changed. You are not the witless man with a slighted heart who went to France to find a distraction. You have grown up since then and are becoming the earl your father expected you to be.”

“You are too generous.”

“I am not. You are my best friend. I would not lie to you. Perhaps you have done some things you are not proud of. So have I, as have many. Miss Crompton is a sensible woman. She shall perceive that your character has ample merits to commend it, without perpetually dwelling upon your former transgressions.”

Nicholas rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Perhaps. I do not know. I detest the idea that she might wish to avoid me for things I can no longer change. But I can understand it, too.”

“I will not lie to you. There will be challenges. The Cromptons have been through a great deal of gossip and conjecture these past few years. True, their name is rarely mentioned now, but there was a time when I could not enter a ballroom in London without hearing it.”

“No woman who has been through so much would wish to form an attachment for someone like me.”

“An earl?”

“A rake, Henry, stop being so obtuse.”

“You cannot live by your past actions forever. Convince her. And by all means, if she is the reason for your happiness these last two weeks, do so quickly. I wish to see you settled if that is what you desire.”

“I do not know what I desire. I just cannot bear her thinking ill of me.”

Henry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I believe then, my dear Nicholas, that you know very well what it is you want.”

***

“I have never found anything particularly enjoyable about fishing,” Lord Crompton said as he belched under his breath, taking another glass of port.

Nicholas was nodding and listening politely but had Miss Crompton in his peripheral vision. She was sitting with Rosemary, looking stunning in the candlelight. The earlier clouds had left her face, and she was all jovial happiness in the company. Over the last few days, she had come out of her shell, and in this kind of situation, she was all affable grace and propriety.

“Have you a stream here?” Lord Crompton asked.

“No, but my estate in Hertfordshire has a trout stream, my Lord.”

“Do you enjoy it often?”

“I confess, I am not a good fisherman, but my cousin, Lord James Bolton, has often brought his family to stay with me. He has caught many trout from it.”

“How large is your estate?” asked Lord Crompton. It could have been a casual question if his wife’s eyes had not lit up at the potential answer.

“It is over fifteen thousand acres and a very beautiful aspect. It is one of my favourite places on earth.”

“My husband and I had a similar estate,” interjected Lady Wilde. “Alas, that particular location was given up following his death, but I still enjoy spending time at Leicester Hall whenever I am able.”

“Is that a sizable house, my lady?” Lord Crompton asked.

“Oh yes, very large. Also in Hertfordshire.”

Nicholas risked a glance at Lady Wilde, who was already watching him. Her red lips were parted into a smile, and he hastily took up his glass of wine to avoid her.

He looked across the table to find Miss Crompton watching him. As their eyes met, he had the pleasure of watching her cheeks turn red as she blushed. But then she looked away, and all the doubts flooded back. She was so difficult to read.

Could I be mistaken? Is this all one-sided?

As the party retired to the drawing room after an excellent repast, Nicholas managed to finally manoeuvre himself to Miss Crompton’s side beneath one of the kissing boughs.

“Have you had a chance to review the book of poetry from our prize?” he asked.

She smiled. “I have. It is most beautiful. Lady Eleanor has quite an eye for her activities. Every poem within the book had some reference to the clues that we found yesterday. I must commend her on her commitment to the task.”

Nicholas laughed. “My aunt has always been a stickler for detail, Miss Crompton. She will not be outdone.”

“Have you read any of the poems of Leigh Hunt?” she asked.

Nicholas felt a bolt of joy that she had heard of that particular artist. Very few of the people he had met knew much of the poet. He was the co-founder of a liberal newspaper called The Examiner, which would be highly derided amongst the upper classes. It was appallingly liberal, which would ruffle far too many feathers in his inner circle, but Nicholas did enjoy being rebellious.

“Do you know I met him once,” he said and saw her eyes light up excitedly.

“Did you? What is he like?”

“He is a passionate man, fiercely kind and very loyal to those about him. He spoke of his mother very fondly when we met, although it was for minutes only. I have not met many people who admire his poems. Are you one of them?”

“Most assuredly, I think him quite a genius.”

“He would be embarrassed to know it, I am sure. I have never met someone with so much talent and so much humility.”

“I am glad of that. So many men are terribly pompous without any grounds for being so.”

“I hope you are not speaking of anyone in the company.”

Her eyes were sparkling now. “I would not wish to be too specific,” she conceded, and Nicholas could not help a hearty chuckle. He was becoming entranced by this side of her. When she was comfortable and had let down the walls about her true personality, her wit and ingenuity always shone through. It had been the same during the treasure hunt. He was elated in her company and felt privileged to be gifted with her attention.

“You must share the joke, my Lord,” came a voice behind him. Nicholas tensed as Lady Wilde and Lady Crompton approached them. “Indeed, you have been discussing something for many minutes, which has had you both smiling. I must find out the topic.”

I have no doubt you must, thought Nicholas bitterly. Lady Wilde was more irritating by the day. He could never seem to be rid of the woman and her current interruption was most unwelcome.

“We were discussing Leigh Hunt,” he said, hoping she had not heard of him. He was disappointed.

“The radical?” she asked, spouting the usual rhetoric that would have been bandied about in good society. Anyone like Hunt, a liberal and a critic, would have posed a threat to the men and women in Madeline Wilde’s circles.

“Indeed,” Clarissa replied, surprising him. “We were speaking of his poems.”

Nicholas was instantly uneasy as her guard returned. He had not expected her to agree with anyone about Leigh Hunt being a radical, yet she had done so willingly with Lady Wilde.

It was clear to him that she did not like the lady and did not wish to engage in an open debate. She was instantly reserved, moving back from the conversation and falling silent.

He hated the shifts in her. Whenever she opened up and seemed to enjoy things too much, she would shut herself down almost instantly, as though she had broken an unspoken rule.

Overcoming her opinion of me will not be an easy task, he thought sadly. But I am determined to succeed.