Chapter Twenty-Five

If Nick had known the ton would completely ignore him, perhaps he wouldn't have come tonight. He suspected the invitation had come to him only out of politeness anyway, which was more than he deserved. After all the lies he had told, he didn't blame anyone for looking down on him, but still. Did they have to spend so much energy glaring at him from across the ballroom?

He'd sequestered himself in an unoccupied corner almost immediately upon arrival, knowing it would save everyone the trouble of finding a proper way to tell him they had no interest in keeping his acquaintance.

Unfortunately, his solitude lasted only ten minutes or so before a group of young ladies approached him with the appearance of a pack of wild dogs hunting their next meal. He recognized most of them, and considering he had rejected at least half of them for one reason or another, he could only assume they were here to ridicule him.

Miss Andrews stood at their head and was the first to address him. "Mr. Forester, I am surprised to see you out among Society." She dipped into a curtsy that would have been too small to notice if Nick hadn't been watching her so closely.

"Miss Andrews, it is always a pleasure." Did that count as a lie if he was trying to be courteous? He greeted each of the other ladies as well and then bowed low. "Are you ladies enjoying your eve—"

"Is it true you have never left England?"

Nick held back a sigh. So it was to be more of this? "Yes, that is true."

Miss Andrews scoffed. "Therefore, you did not spend a summer in India with tigers and elephants?"

"No, that was Mr. Bonden."

"I thought as—" She cocked her head. "What?"

Nick nodded toward the man in question, who was deep in discussion with a few of his friends. "Mr. Bonden was in India for most of last year and returned only a few months ago."

The ladies began whispering amongst each other, as if they weren't sure they could believe him. Luckily, nothing he had just said had been a lie, and Bonden was far more adventurous than Nick had ever been. If these women were so interested in sights beyond England, they would do better with focusing on him.

"And what of the rumor that you once saved a child from being trampled by a horse?" Miss Tremblay asked from the back of the group.

Nick searched his memories for the source of that one. He was quite certain he had started it himself. But he had heard of someone else doing something similar just last month, though it had been a novice stablehand in danger rather than a child. The situation was similar enough, as well as the man's name. Nick wouldn't need influence or admiration to make himself believable, and he smiled. "I think you have confused me with James Foster ."

Miss Tremblay's eyes lit up, along with the color in her cheeks. "That was Mr. Foster?"

The entire group of ladies shifted from whispering to giggling, several of them looking around the room as if in search of Foster. He wasn't high enough socially to be at a gathering such as this, but it seemed the women of London were fond of the man regardless.

"Do you expect us to believe you after all of your lies?" Miss Andrews asked with another scoff. She, it seemed, wasn't as easily taken in as her fellows.

Nick smirked. "No, I do not. But that hasn't stopped Miss Evans from asking Mr. Bonden herself, has it?" He nodded toward Miss Evans and the woman who had been beside her until a moment ago; both were obviously flirting with a clearly bewildered but excited Bonden. "Have you any other rumors you're interested in, Miss Andrews? I can point you in the right direction, assuming they aren't all complete nonsense. One can never be too careful when it comes to gossip."

Though the other ladies seemed eager to carry on with their lives—and perhaps start questioning everything they heard, even beyond Nick and his web of lies—Miss Andrews almost looked ready to challenge Nick on his offer. Unbeknownst to her, he had spent so long at the heart of Society and diving deep into the gossip columns and betting books that he would likely have a man in mind for anything she threw at him.

She must have sensed his confidence, however, because she dipped into an actual curtsy and herded the rest of the women away—to the relief of all the lingering men who had been hoping for a chance to ask them to dance. Each lady was picked off quickly, ensuring none of them could come back to question Nick more until the set was over.

Finally, he was able to observe the ballroom once more, and he found Emma in a crowd, charming a handful of admirers, as always. As far as he knew, no one seemed to have discovered her misadventure the night before, which left him breathing easier. That was one rumor he wouldn't be able to turn on someone else. He had done his best to keep her shielded last night to protect her identity, but it was impossible to know who might have been lurking in the darkness.

But she was safe. And, from what he could tell, she shone just as brightly as she had the moment she set foot in London.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, Emma looked over and met Nick's gaze. Though surrounded by people—the men likely wishing to court her and the women hoping to befriend her—she kept doing that. Watching him. Making him squirm. He was already having a devil of a time ignoring how much he had liked holding her hand on the drive over, and he didn't need to start convincing himself she thought of him as often as he was starting to think of her. No good would come of that, and yet—

"Blast," he muttered when he realized she was walking his way with a young woman in tow. He was in no state to be polite after using up all of his limited civility on Miss Andrews, but Emma had found one of the few women Nick had yet to meet, and Emma seemed to know it.

Lady Georgina was beautiful, but she had never shown an interest in Nick, so he had never bothered to gain an introduction. It seemed that was about to change.

"Miss Mackenzie," he said when the ladies arrived on his side of the ballroom. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat.

Emma fought her smile as she dipped into a curtsy to match his bow. "Mr. Forester. I was speaking with the delightful Lady Georgina here when I realized she had yet to meet you. Imagine that."

"Imagine," he croaked back. "My lady, it is a pleasure."

Lady Georgina eyed him with wary interest. "Mr. Forester. I have heard so much about you."

"I told her she mustn't believe everything she hears," Emma said, her smile growing.

Nick held back a groan. He'd thought Emma's plan was to avoid sabotage, not cement her condemning words further. "Is that so?"

"Is it true you are quite proficient on the pianoforte?" Lady Georgina asked with the same hesitation. "Miss Mackenzie said you have quite the talent."

Nick took a step back in surprise, glancing at Emma. She had called attention to one of the truths? "Yes," he admitted. "My mother was very fond of music, and playing connects me to her."

He didn't miss the way Emma's mouth parted, as if she hadn't expected him to reveal something so personal. In truth, he was just as surprised as she seemed to be, but he kept his focus on Lady Georgina. He could examine his newfound ease in being open later tonight, when he wasn't in conversation.

Lady Georgina softened considerably with his answer, her smile small but warm. "How lovely," she said, inching closer. "I feel the same way. When I was a girl, my grandmother played the most beautiful songs on the harp. I haven't half her talent, rest her soul, but I feel as if she is listening every time I play."

"Would you care to dance, my lady?" Nick asked before his cowardice took control. The lady seemed to have formed at least a slight interest with their shared love of music, and he would need to take advantage of it.

Lady Georgina agreed, and Nick could hardly believe it as he led her onto the floor. Why would Emma bring him someone genuinely sweet and kind? Perhaps there was more to the woman than he had thus seen, but this was hardly inundating him with impossible matches. And he hadn't even thought to search for Mr. Wells and make an introduction to Emma in kind. Wells wasn't good enough for her anyway.

Besides, Nick had been hoping to dance with her himself.

"Are you well, sir?" Lady Georgina asked before the music began.

Nick nodded, but his attention was on Emma again. She seemed in a daze, not really looking at him, but there was no trace of a smile on her lips. As if she hadn't intended for the two of them to make a connection. Or perhaps she had, but she didn't like it. What was her game?

The orchestra began the first notes of a reel, and Nick forced his attention back to his partner. This could be his first chance in days to take a step in the right direction. Metaphorically, of course, seeing as he was failing to step in the right direction of the dance. Cursing his inability to pay attention, he shook his head and pasted on a smile, as if that would help him focus on the task at hand.

But halfway through the set, his eyes caught on Emma again, only she was no longer alone. She had been joined by none other than the Duke of Tipton, and Nick nearly tripped over his own feet. Why would the duke take an interest in her? And why was she smiling at him like that? His Grace had a reputation as gossiped about as Nick's, but for far worse reasons. Everyone knew Tipton had no qualms about pursuing women he had no intention of truly courting. He wooed them with false promises and had his way with them, leaving them heartbroken and worse. Too many ladies had been caught in his snares, but no one was brave enough to challenge a duke to a duel to defend them.

Surely Emma could see through his charming exterior. His Grace made her attacker last night look harmless, and Nick couldn't throw a punch this time to save her if he—

The dance pulled his attention away, though he did his best to keep an eye on Emma. Where was Harstone? Did he not realize his sister-in-law was speaking with the worst of men? Cursing the length of the song—the orchestra seemed to be playing at a glacial pace again—Nick debated leaving the dance early. Doing so would insult Lady Georgina most thoroughly, but perhaps she would forgive him.

He groaned. If he thought it was going to be difficult to find a wife before, a cut direct like that would only make it worse. Could he live with himself if something happened to Emma while he was busy caring about himself? But if he abandoned Lady Georgina, she would be completely humiliated. What if he ruined all her chances?

He spent so long agonizing over what he should do that the dance ended before he had made a decision, which suited him very well. Though perhaps a little too hasty in taking Lady Georgina's arm while she still clapped for the orchestra, he pulled her across the floor as quickly as he could without drawing attention their way. He found her parents easily enough, thanked the lady for the dance, mumbled something about calling on her for a walk through the park, and then took his leave. After colliding with a couple of men who shouted at him, Nick finally arrived at the place where Emma had been standing.

She wasn't there. Neither was the duke.

Heart pounding, he stood on his toes and sought out Harstone. "Blast." She wasn't with her family either. Had Tipton taken her somewhere? They weren't on the dance floor, which meant they had either gone into the corridor beyond the ballroom or out onto the terrace. He couldn't search the whole house, and though a little voice in the back of his head told him he should alert Harstone to the potential danger, his feet pulled him to the terrace.

As he stumbled through the open door, he thought his heart might beat right out of his chest until he caught sight of Emma leaning on the balcony that overlooked the gardens.

Alone.

"Oh, thank the heavens," he breathed, suddenly dizzy.

She turned with wide eyes and stared at him as he tried to catch his breath. "Mr. Forester? What... ?"

"What are you doing out here?"

She frowned, her eyes bouncing to the doorway behind him. "I might ask you the same thing."

Hurrying to her side, he searched her person for any reason to think he might be too late for a rescue. She seemed completely unharmed, but he wouldn't put it past her to hide any distress. "I saw you speaking with the duke, and then you were gone, and I thought—"

"You thought I was foolish enough to fall for his charms? How little you know me."

Now that he could breathe again, Nick leaned against the railing and managed a small smile. He had clearly overreacted, though his heart had yet to be informed. It still thundered in his chest like a racehorse. "No, I do not suppose I know you very well. It makes it inordinately difficult to find you a husband."

"I thought you said you had the perfect man in mind."

That brought a smile out of him. "I lied." He had needed a reason to be smiling so much that had nothing to do with how lovely she looked when he'd climbed into Harstone's carriage.

Emma scoffed. "Of course you did."

"As for not knowing you, it stands to reason that I should remedy the fact, do you not agree?"

"You wish to know me?" Why did that surprise her so much?

Though he was tempted to tell her it was because he badly wanted to be her friend, he kept to a reason she was less likely to question. "If I am to share half my inheritance, I should know who I am supporting."

"You mean half my inheritance."

She was unlike any woman he had ever known, stubborn and hardheaded, and Nick couldn't keep himself from grinning. He hadn't seen the evening going this way at all, mostly because he had planned never to mention the inheritance to her again. It would have been easier to pretend there was nothing preventing them from being more than recent acquaintances. "You intend to share as well?"

She seemed to think on that, tapping her chin as she studied him. "I suppose I should. It is only fair, after what you offered. But I will not give up the house. I will give you the money required to repair your estate."

"You know of my estate?"

She laughed, and Nick was reminded of how much he liked the sound. Too much. "I should think you would know by now that nothing about your life is a secret," she said. "I can work out the true aspects of all the rumors well enough, as I do not imagine you would willingly spread lies about your estate being unlivable."

Nick ducked his head, trying to keep his grin from widening. "Society tends to focus on the fantastic falsehoods rather than the mundane truths. It is a pity that no longer holds true, as no one will want to marry a penniless liar with a home in disrepair."

"I suppose that is a fair assessment."

They were both quiet for a long while. Though Nick usually hated silence, he found this one quite comfortable. He had nothing to prove to Emma, just as she had no reason to impress him. It meant they could simply exist in the same space, which felt rather peaceful.

So, naturally, he broke the silence with an unprompted question. "Why do you not wish to marry?"

That inquiry certainly caught her off guard, her eyes going wide and her cheeks flushing with color. She seemed just as surprised as Nick when she replied, "Because I have no desire to become a man's property. The moment I marry is the moment everything I own, everything I am , belongs to him."

He knew instinctively that she was speaking the truth, but he also sensed there was a good deal more to her reasoning than that. Too afraid to push, he pretended to accept her answer as the only one and presented his argument. "Surely there are men out there who will view that only as a technicality. I have always thought a marriage should be equal."

"You are a rarity, Mr. Forester."

"But your brother-in-law is the same. And my friend Calloway. There must be more."

She sighed. "Perhaps. But find me a man who not only tolerates my wit but also appreciates it, and I shall truly be impressed. No man enjoys sparring unless it involves a sword."

"I fence." Nick cleared his throat, feeling awkward because he had been about to admit that sparring with her was one of his new favorite pastimes. "You asked at Almack's why I am so strong. I fence. It is the only way I know to work out my frustrations without turning to pugilism, which I abhor."

She seemed to eye him with appreciation, though whether it was for his strength or his desire to avoid hand-to-hand combat, he wasn't sure.

He also wasn't sure why he was still thinking about how much he liked talking to her.

"You seemed eager to use your fist last night," she said, frowning.

"I had a good reason."

Emma seemed just as confused as he was, and that couldn't be a good sign. It was as if she was trying to see past his exterior and get into whatever lay inside, which made him feel very much like a fish about to be gutted.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, unable to help himself.

She cocked her head to the side. "I am not fully certain. I have heard so many different things about you since the day I first heard your name, and those who call you a friend seem to know a different man than I do."

What was he to say to that? "Is that a good thing or bad?"

"I suppose it depends on which man is the real one. My brother-in-law speaks so highly of you, and Miss Barton is convinced you are a good man. I can only assume your friend Lord Calloway is as fond of you as Alvaro is. Even my sister speaks to your credit. And yet..."

Nick fully understood her confusion. Not only had he behaved so abominably when they'd first met, but he had also not been himself for years. "And yet I have given you no reason to think well of me," he finished for her, dropping his gaze, as if that could hide him from her scrutiny. She had always been too intelligent to believe the mask he wore, but that didn't mean the man beneath was much better. "I admit I have forgotten the man I used to be," he said, the soft words tasting bitter. "Nor can I say with certainty that I used to be a good man in the first place. I like to think I was. But I am trying to be better, and perhaps someday you will find something good in me."

When he finally looked up, he found Emma still studying him, but her expression had softened. She likely still despised him, but perhaps the degree had lessened. He wasn't certain what to do with that.

He tucked his hands behind his back, pretending to admire the gardens despite being able to see only a small portion of them in the light shining from the house. He needed to bring things back to the way they usually were before he started getting dangerous ideas about Emma Mackenzie. Too late for that. "Speaking of good men, what else would you require in a husband were you to accept one?"

Emma took so long to respond that he looked at her again and found her fighting her smile. He wished she wouldn't hold back. She had such a beautiful smile. "Well, he must be tall."

"Tall?"

"Indeed."

"That is your only requirement?"

"Certainly not, but I cannot give away all my secrets tonight, now, can I?" She finally let out her smile, hitting Nick with its full, dimpled force, then made her way back into the ballroom.

Nick stared at the place she had disappeared from view, and he couldn't help but think about how he was tall. And he looked forward to their sparring more than he should. And there was a slight chance he was in grave danger of falling for Emma Mackenzie.

Which was a problem, because she was always going to see him as nothing but an obstacle in her quest for independence.