CHAPTER SIX

The clack of billiard balls rent the air as Nicholas struck the cue ball.

This was one of his favourite rooms in the house. It was set back from the others and often meant he could hide here when his aunt was looking for him. He watched Henry’s lithe frame skirt the table, frowning as he considered his counter shot.

“My feeling is that the estate should be entirely entailed to Joseph, but father is adamant he will not inherit. The whole business is largely ridiculous. I shall endeavour to ask Mama for help. She is undoubtedly the most sensible one of the family.”

Henry’s father was having tumultuous issues with his inheritance, and Nicholas could only sympathize. Henry, being a second son, was rather set apart from the barrage of abuse his father was receiving from his eldest—Roger. An illegitimate heir had come forward, making Nicholas feel rather lucky that he was not yet a father.

He had been listening to Henry’s woes for a while but found that his mind kept wandering to the dance floor and his charming dance partner.

It was strange to acknowledge how quickly one’s perspectives could change. That morning, he had been reluctant to stay in England. Even the two weeks he had promised his aunt had seemed interminable. But now, with Miss Crompton’s company to look forward to, he felt it might not be so tiresome after all.

“My dear fellow, you are not listening to me again! I dare say you have not been listening to me since you returned. I might as well play billiards with the curtains.”

Nicholas shook himself out of his reverie and attempted to look contrite.

“Sorry, Addison, is there any proof of his claim?”

Henry gave him a wan smile. “I have already outlined it to you in detail. Whatever is the matter with you, old boy? Did you not wish to play? I’m happy to have a glass of port before the fire if you prefer.”

“Not at all. I am being abominably rude; you have my apologies.”

“Is anything the matter?”

I cannot stop thinking about a woman who seems entirely indifferent to me.

“Not a thing. Let us play. I have not trounced you in far too long.”

Henry gave a sharp bark of laughter and proceeded to pot two balls at once. Nicholas managed to get through his next two turns without incident. Still, as the snow began to fall more heavily outside, the snowflakes put him in mind of the sparkling jewels on Miss Crompton’s gown, and he grew irritated by his mind’s inability to focus.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her that intrigued him to such an extent. As Henry took his customary few minutes to assess the table, Nicholas tried to plot it out in his head. Miss Crompton was beautiful in an ethereal, perfect way that unmanned him.

He concluded that the paleness of her skin and the darkness of her eyes were the most captivating. But that was not a reason to obsess over a woman. So what else?

The first thing that had interested him was the way she looked away so quickly whenever he was near. He was rather chagrined to discover that he was more interested in her because she seemed so uninterested in him. He was not used to women dismissing him. Usually, they fawned about him in a most unflattering way, and he did not enjoy that either.

Miss Crompton had a quietness about her that spoke to a place deep inside him. It was like a ripple of something he had long pushed below the surface, something he had hidden for many years. Ever since Victoria’s treatment of him, he had tended to favour bolder women. He liked to know he would not break a heart and that his own would not be broken in return.

Lady Wilde was just the sort of lady he would have had his eye on a few months before. But now, as he absorbed the quiet beauty of the English countryside, things were awakening in him that he had not anticipated. He liked that Miss Crompton was reserved; her shy manner intrigued him.

He had always enjoyed a challenge, and Miss Crompton most definitely presented one. Even during the dance, she had not said a single word to him. It was infuriating and yet utterly appealing.

He shot another ball into the pot, and Henry swore loudly, pulling him out of his rather melancholy thoughts. Nicholas grinned.

“Another game?”

“Absolutely not,” Henry muttered, and Nicholas chuckled, slapping him heartily on the shoulder as they returned to the drawing room to reconnect with the ladies.

As they entered the opulent room, his aunt was standing beside the large window, addressing the company. She looked very well in her ochre satin gown. Nicholas always marvelled at how young and virile she looked, even in her later years. Perhaps it was due to all the parties she arranged—she did love being a hostess.

Many of the guests had now departed after dinner, and the select group who would be staying for the whole of Christmas remained. The majority were made up of the Crompton family, the Kingston’s and Henry. Two other ladies were present—a Lady Bartholemew and a Lady Garriton who were particular friends of his aunt’s. He was pleased the party was not larger.

Nicholas noticed Miss Crompton sitting beside Rosemary to the side of the main settee, watching his aunt, her gown flowing down over her feet, her hands placed in her lap.

She was so very proper. Nicholas had promised himself he would never fall for another woman like that again.

“I propose a game of charades!” his aunt was saying. Miss Crompton’s cousin was positively bouncing with excitement. Nicholas could not help but smile at her. Rosemary had told him this was her first house party, and she was positively enthused by everything. Henry, on the other hand, would have paid good money not to play charades.

He held back a groan. Perhaps he could persuade Henry to sneak out the back with him and they could have that glass of port instead.

“Ah, Lord Bolton,” his aunt said loudly, “will you not join Miss Crompton? Everyone else has paired up.”

On the other hand, haven’t I always loved charades?

Nicholas walked eagerly across the room, taking a seat beside her. She glanced at him briefly with a gentle nod of her head, but nothing more. He attempted to flash his best smile her way, but it was wasted as she was no longer looking at him.

“I was hoping to be on Clarissa’s team,” came a quiet voice from nearby as Emily was tugged, with a good deal of force, to sit with Lady Crompton.

Nicholas could imagine how intimidating a setting such as this could be for a girl not yet out in society, and he leaned forward in his chair to speak with her.

“But just think Miss Emily, now you can beat Miss Crompton instead,” he said, throwing a smile the girl’s way. Suddenly her round face transformed into a wicked grin, and she sat up a little straighter.

“There we are, Clary; maybe I shall finally beat you,” she said with good-humoured affection.

“Emily, I have no doubt you will. You are an expert at charades,” Clarissa said, a bright light coming into her eyes as she addressed her cousin.

Nicholas was treated to a view of who she might become when she was in less formal company. He was surprised by the force with which he wished to see that transformation.

The game began and there was much laughter and name calling as everyone tried to guess the answer to the riddle that had been read out. Lord Crompton was silent for almost the entirety of the first players turn, but when he did speak he got the answer on his first try. Nicholas could see a ghost of his daughter in his contemplative mannerism. He was starting to like Lord Crompton a great deal.

Soon, it was his turn to stand up in front of them all. He made a show of it, allowing the mask of the clown to fall into place. If people laughed with you they did not mock you. He had learned that many years before. The part of the fool was easy to play. It was always easier to pretend.

He turned to Miss Crompton, who was watching him avidly as he prepared to read out the riddle. She would have the first guess as his teammate. When she concentrated, there was a small line between her brows, and she bit her lip, leaning forward a little in her chair. Nicholas found that he was desperate to win.

Without further ado, he began his riddle:

“My first is much used for the making of holes,

But internally takes the joy of good souls;

My next, like the earth round its centre, revolves,

When impelled on the green, on our pleasure resolves;

My whole is most pleasing well filled with my first;

To the toper, whose wailings are always of thirst.”

There were many murmurings, and multiple heads leaned together, but Nicholas only had eyes for his partner. She had her head down, and her brow was furrowed. Even while she concentrated, she looked remarkable. He found his eyes moving over her hair, looking at the white flowers placed in its design. He found his eyes moving over the elegant line of her neck.

“Something to do with golf?” Henry asked from the back, and Nicholas shook his head.

There were many grumblings about the riddle being too hard, but Nicholas could see that Miss Crompton was getting somewhere.

“Whole,” she muttered, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Always of thirst…” she said, tapping her chin with her finger. Emily was positively vibrating with irritation now—Lady Crompton appeared to be very bad at the game.

“Punch bowl?” Clarissa asked, and Nicholas clapped his hands rather too loudly, making everyone jump.

“Miss Crompton has it,” he said, feeling jubilant that they had won. He caught Henry’s eye at the back of the room and cleared his throat at his knowing expression. Everyone applauded, and the game continued as Emily took to the floor to ask her riddle.

Nicholas felt his heart beating fast in his chest, his breath coming unevenly as he took his seat. His investment in her answer had been far greater than he would have expected, and as he took his seat beside her, a gentle smell wafted over him. It smelled like white jasmine. He had an absurd wish to bring his nose to her hair and memorize the scent.

Instead, he merely nodded his head as he took his seat. “Well done,” he said, trying not to disgrace himself with his enhanced enthusiasm. “However did you get it?”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully. “I knew the first clue must have been ‘punch’ because of the making of holes. But then I couldn’t get the second until I realised ‘on the green’ could mean bowling, and then I had it.”

She was smiling now, and he found himself doing the same.

“Excellent; I know whom I shall partner with in all future games. However, I must tell you, my prowess lies in reading the riddles, not guessing them.”

She laughed softly, a beautiful blush suffusing her cheeks, and he smiled, leaning back in the chair as they listened to Emily’s recital.

Only when the game turned to acting out titles from literature did the competition begin to take shape. Nicholas was thrilled to see Clarissa’s competitive side start to show itself, and as the teams began to work together against the rest of the room, he was more excited than he should have been to stand up with her.

They stood side by side, looking at the title they had to act out. It was the book Pride he was certain of it. She was entirely vibrant and energetic, sparkling like a diamond in the centre of the room. He could not keep his eyes off her.

She was miming in front of her mouth, perhaps eating or talking. Then, she would point to a music box on the side and repeat the action. After a long moment of watching her—and concentrating rather more on her person than on his guess—it suddenly came to him.

“Chatterbox!” he cried, and the smile she sent his way was nothing short of dazzling. She jumped in excitement, clapping her hands together as the room erupted in applause. They had won!

Nicholas managed a smile as she sat beside him. Miss Crompton was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes dancing excitedly. The same scent wafted over him, and it took all his strength not to take her into his arms then and there.

As he glanced away from her, he caught Madeline Wilde's disapproving gaze from across the room. Nicholas felt a strange uneasiness envelop him as he thought of the two women side by side.

In one lay an easy path he had trodden many times before—an uncomplicated life devoid of broken hearts and ill-feeling. No pain would be felt by anyone if he made that journey.

Then, there was a darker path he had travelled only once before. It had led him to the worst time of his life, where everything had been upended, and all happiness had almost been lost. He was still recovering from the blow Victoria had dealt him, and his feelings for her, in hindsight, had been nothing like the intensity and joy he experienced in Clarissa’s presence.

Could he risk opening his heart again? Or was an easy, well-trodden path the safest road?