Chapter Five

Thank goodness for the sheer size of Harstone's house. Nick had been pacing for nigh on an hour now, his thoughts whirring and his stomach twisting and his boots stomping through an empty wing of the house as he sorted through the revelation Mr. Mackenzie had sprung on him.

Less than two months?

Surely the old man could not mean that. What sort of man entered into an agreement in six weeks?

Nick growled to himself. Everyone. Everyone did that. Nick had known courtships to last only long enough for the banns to be read, and only because a special license was out of the question. He had known men to take one look at a lady and declare right then to be madly in love with her and in two months prove the sentiment true. Lord Calloway, a man who left his country home only when on business and was all things practical, had found himself a wife within a week. Nick had seen a man propose within twenty minutes of meeting a woman, for heaven's sake, so what the devil was wrong with him ?

He had meant what he'd told Mr. Mackenzie, that he wanted to marry for love. How could he not, after seeing how happy his parents had been together? Even seeing Harstone and Calloway with their wives told Nick that anything less would only make him miserable, and that was hardly worth the small fortune he would gain from an unhappy marriage.

The small fortune that was the only thing keeping him from entering the poorhouse.

He kicked the nearest wall and immediately regretted it when his toes collided with the wood with a lot more force than he'd expected. Hopping on one foot in pain, he grumbled curses to himself and considered how much it would injure Harstone if he decided not to stay.

How could he? His blasted rival would be just down the road throughout his entire stay, silently tormenting him whether she knew the stipulations of Mr. Mackenzie's will or not. Just her presence was enough to send Nick into a panic. If she had not existed, he would not be in this predicament. Why couldn't she have found herself a ridiculously wealthy viscount like her elder sister and saved Nick all this trouble?

He cursed again, far more loudly this time.

"Oh," a gentle voice said.

Nick froze, one leg still in the air. Who had just stumbled upon him and witnessed him in the worst possible state? Not only must he look ridiculous, but he had also been using ungentlemanly words just then. Dropping his foot, he took a deep breath and spun to face his captor.

He immediately smiled. "It's you!"

The woman from town narrowed her eyes, just as skeptical as she had been before. Now that she was no longer trapped beneath the shadows of a bonnet, Nick could see that her eyes were just as green as they were blue, and her honey-colored hair gave her a soft appearance that he rather liked. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked.

Goodness, she looked even more beautiful than she had in town, which left him tongue-tied. That was a foreign feeling, and he hated how quickly any sense of wit left him. He fought for something to say. Anything. "No, of course not. Merely a frustrating conversation with myself."

"I see." She turned to go back the way she had come.

"Wait!" Thankfully, she looked at him again, and Nick smiled. "You really won't tell me your name? You already know mine."

She scoffed. "Hardly."

"You're right. I abhor being called Nicholas. I would rather you call me Nick."

"I'm not going to call you anything. Not without a proper introduction." She raised an eyebrow, looking him over. "Perhaps not even then."

Despite the indirect insult, Nick laughed. "My, but you are stubborn, aren't you?"

Folding her arms, she seemed to fight a smile as she stood there. "What else would I be?"

"Without knowing who you are, I could hardly say," Nick replied. "But I did not say stubbornness was a bad trait."

Her pink lips twisted upward despite her attempts to keep her smile from appearing. Nick had a feeling he would treasure her smile. "Is that so? You think it admirable?"

"I suppose that depends on the circumstances."

"What about now?"

Nick chanced a step closer, pleased when she didn't flinch. He appreciated her ability to keep to her principles. Or perhaps he appreciated interacting with someone who didn't already know who he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone anywhere without admirers flocking to him. "Now," he said, taking another step, "I think your stubbornness should step aside long enough for me to learn your name so I might know what to call you when I tell you that you are utterly beautiful."

Her cheeks brightened with a handsome pink at the same time her smile broke free, and Nick had never seen a more enchanting smile. Whoever this woman was, she had captivated him.

"There you are!"

Nick jumped at the sound of a voice down the corridor and only realized how close he had gotten to the alluring woman when she slipped away to a respectable distance. Curse Miss Barton and her ability to drive him absolutely mad! He was usually more aware of his own actions.

"I was worried you had gotten yourself lost," Miss Barton said, completely ignoring their companion.

Nick gritted his teeth. "Me? Lost?" he said. "Certainly not. I simply saw a ghost down this corridor and thought to hunt it down and learn her history."

Miss Barton laughed, though it sounded more like the high-pitched twill of a chaffinch. "Do not tease me so, Nicholas," she said. "You know how interested I am in spirits. Was she a wayward soul?" Her eyes searched the empty corridor, as if she might catch a glimpse.

"Nothing of the sort," Nick replied. He only then realized her fingers had somehow wrapped around his arm, and he frowned down at his elbow. How had she managed to do that without him noticing? He must be losing his mind. "It was simply the ghost of a cow who must have wandered this land before the house was built."

"You know," Miss Nameless said. Her voice was so much smoother than Miss Barton's, and far more pleasing to the ear. Or perhaps it was simply a voice he had not heard far too much of today. "I have often seen that cow wandering around during my visits to Harstone." She barely concealed her grin, and Nick was once again fascinated by the woman. "It seems to be looking for something."

Miss Barton's mouth opened wide. "Looking for something?" she repeated in awe. "Whatever might a cow be wanting?"

"Perhaps her bell?" Miss Nameless suggested.

Nick had to bite his cheek before he laughed. "I don't believe I saw a bell around her neck," he agreed. "Perhaps we need to find her one so she can move on to what comes next."

"Where are we supposed to find a bell for a phantom cow?" Miss Barton said, and she seemed genuinely concerned.

Miss Nameless, on the other hand, bit her bottom lip and met Nick's gaze with her dazzling one. "I do not think we need an actual cow bell," she said with false solemnity. "I am certain simply the sound of one will do. One of us should attempt it before she wanders to another part of the house."

Oh, that wicked girl. Nick could no longer hide his grin, so he turned away before Miss Barton saw his expression. "I do believe she is nearly to the end of the corridor," he said with mock alarm. "I have never heard the sound of a cow bell, however, so I shan't attempt it."

"And I believe my name is being called downstairs," Miss Nameless replied. She threw one quick grin to Nick and hurried away, her skirts swishing behind her until she vanished around a corner.

Did the woman have any idea how enchanting she was? And how much hope her playful smile had given him in this moment of desperation? Such a lady, assuming she was unattached and even interested, could solve all his problems for him.

He needed to learn her name as soon as possible.

Just then, Miss Barton made the strangest sound Nick had ever heard, like a mix between a turkey's gobble and the sound one makes when hitting a bare toe against the corner of the bed in the middle of the night. He stared at her, bewildered, until he realized she was attempting the sound of a cow bell.

The attempt was absolutely horrendous.

"Miss Barton!" he said sharply, his voice cracking, and he coughed before he pulled his arm free and put a hand on her shoulder. "I do believe the ghost has moved to another part of the house." Perhaps he should have said she succeeded in sending the nonexistent cow to the beyond. Anything to stop her from making such an awful noise again. "I expect dinner will be served soon, so we should—"

"Oh dear," Miss Barton said with a sigh. "We shall have to try again tomorrow. Perhaps Miss Mackenzie will be able to assist then instead of being called away like she was now."

Nick froze, a sort of buzzing filling his ears. "What?"

"Miss Mackenzie," she repeated, furrowing her brow at him. "After all, it was her idea to make the sound of the bell, was it not? Perhaps she will have better luck."

Nick's mouth had gone dry, the buzzing now a roar. "Miss Mackenzie?" he said. Surely not.

Miss Barton laughed again and smiled at him as if he were a child. "My, you are entirely out of sorts today, Nicholas, and I have no idea why. Come. As you said, we should rejoin the others before we are missed. I am half-starved after traveling all day, aren't you?" Without a care in the world, she pulled him down the corridor toward the drawing room, and he stumbled blindly after her.

Mackenzie? How had he not recognized the one person in the county he was sworn to loathe? Well, of course he had not recognized her. With no other basis for comparison than her sister, who was clearly several years her senior, Miss Mackenzie could have been anyone.

A part of him knew this could turn out in his favor. Pursuing Miss Mackenzie would give them both what they wanted. Mr. Mackenzie had said something about her wishing to remain independent, but surely any woman of moderate intelligence would see this as an opportunity. And yet the thought didn't sit well in his stomach. He knew next to nothing about the woman, but he had a feeling her mind would not be easily changed. What if she didn't wish to share the land?

That would make them enemies. And Nick would a hundred times over rather be poor than trapped in a marriage with someone who would find him an inconvenience rather than a partner in life. That was the whole reason he hadn't already found a wife and secured his future, and he couldn't very well settle for less now. Even with his deadline.

Miss Barton had apparently already been introduced to the other dinner guests, as she took it upon herself to introduce Nick to each of them as they made their way around the crowded drawing room. The group was quite a bit larger than Nick had expected—though he should not have been surprised given the amiable nature of Lord Harstone—and yet it seemed no matter where he looked, there she was.

Miss Mackenzie.

He studied her carefully as she laughed with Harstone, as if she had not a care in the world. Why would she? She was only a few weeks away from being wealthier than most single women had the chance to be. Her brightness left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth, so much so that he could hardly focus on what Miss Barton was saying to the gentleman they had just fallen into conversation with.

Conversation being a loose term, of course, as Miss Barton was not one to let anyone get a word in with her fast-flying tongue.

Had Miss Mackenzie known who he was from the start? Perhaps that was why she had refused to give him her name. Nick had no doubt she was capable of acting, with the way she had dealt with the phantom-cow situation, but surely she could not have faked that smile of hers. It had lit up her eyes in the most genuine manner, just like it did now as she conversed with her brother-in-law.

Why had Harstone not warned him? But Nick knew the answer to that already. Harstone didn't know about the marriage stipulation or Mackenzie's ultimatum. No one knew.

The more Nick thought about it, the more he decided there was no possible way Miss Mackenzie knew who he was, the way she had smiled at him. Her wariness had been due to nothing but propriety. Dread weaved its way through his veins as he watched the woman laugh. This was not going to end well, even if he tried proposing marriage as a solution for them both. She didn't strike him as a woman to jump easily into a binding relationship any more than Nick was willing to risk a loveless marriage simply for the sake of money.

No amount of attraction could compensate for differing goals.

"Mr. Forester?" Miss Barton nudged his arm, giving him a pointed look.

Nick cleared his throat and turned to the man before them. "I am terribly sorry," he said, refusing to be embarrassed a third time. First in town, then in the passageway upstairs, but he would not be set down here in a crowd. If Nick was good at anything, it was charming strangers. "I had quite the long walk after I arrived today," he explained. "And then, what with the bandits and all, I—"

"Bandits?" Miss Barton cried.

The whole room went silent, and Nick realized his mistake. In a crowded ballroom at the height of the Season, the ton generally concerned themselves with their own business, all of them on the hunt, whether for a spouse or better connections. Here, at an intimate gathering, it was far more difficult to hide.

It was a good thing Nick had had plenty of practice hiding his true self; he never would have survived his years of wife-chasing without it.

"Did you say bandits?" Harstone said from the other side of the room.

Beside Harstone, Miss Mackenzie smiled and looked thoroughly amused by Nick's antics. It seemed his rival was indeed as ignorant of his identity as he had been of hers.

Clearing his throat again, Nick quickly sorted through the details of his story and got to it, all the while hating himself for falling into old habits yet again. "Truly," he said, "though they were new to the profession, from what I could tell. Didn't use a weapon or anything of the like."

"Bandits, here in Staffordshire?" someone whispered in alarm.

Nick would have to waylay that fear before he sent the whole room into a panic. "Not to worry, Mrs. Kirkham," he told the frightened woman. At least, he was pretty sure that was her name and hoped he hadn't heard Miss Barton wrong. "They were practically children. Hardly dangerous."

Miss Mackenzie had moved to her sister's side and was whispering something to her, her amused smile still intact.

A bad feeling churned in Nick's gut, and he could hardly focus. "After they tried to rob me—" he said, but his words faltered when Lady Harstone whispered something back to Miss Mackenzie.

Her smile dropped instantly, making way for an expression full of fury.

She knew. And that was not the look of someone who might be willing to compromise.

"After they tried to rob me," Nick said again, "I sat them down and showed them the error of their ways."

"Did you now?" a sharp voice said, and Nick winced. Miss Mackenzie was not going to mince words, it seemed. "I rather wonder at your ability to confront some young bandits when you are so frightened by smaller foes."

He met her gaze, which had turned so cold that he wondered how he had ever thought her charming. This was a woman who would not go down without a fight, nor be cowed by her opposition. This was a woman who seemed to be considering murder as an alternative to missing out on a livelihood she did not need.

Nick gulped and sent Harstone a silent plea for help.

The blessed man understood, announcing dinner was ready with a faltering smile and a look to his wife, as if hoping for reinforcements.

Miss Mackenzie's glare only turned harder as the other guests gathered to head into the dining room.

For the first time in his life, Nick considered feigning a headache and retreating.