Grace Burrowes: Nicholas: Lord of Secrets

“I am his daughter,” Leah reminded him. “He has every right.”

“You have attained your majority.”

“I am an unmarried female. I cannot make contracts, cannot buy land, cannot hire or fire my own employees, cannot own a business unless left to me by my family. I have no salable skills save governessing, and any family that hired me would be subject to the earl’s displeasure.”

Blond brows twitched closer to a lordly nose. “You have thought this through.”

“He watches my pin money,” Leah went on, “so I cannot save but a few pennies on rare occasion. He keeps the jewelry given me by my mother or brothers locked away, so I cannot pawn it. My old dresses are taken from my wardrobe, and the same with my shoes, boots, and so forth.”

“You are a prisoner,” Reston concluded, temper evident in his tone.

“I am a daughter ,” Leah retorted, “who has earned her father’s disfavor.”

“I am holding in my left hand two gold sovereigns,” Reston said, his tone of voice reverting to deceptive evenness. “When I assist you to rise, you will slip them into your glove.”

Leah felt tears threaten. “My lord, don’t do this. I cannot start a life on two gold sovereigns.”

“You cannot,” he agreed, shifting his walking stick to the side. “But you can hire a cabbie to get you to your brother’s, or to my town house.” He relayed his exact address to her, all the while appearing to be studying the ducks and making small talk, even as he also told her how to reach his grandmother, Lady Warne, and that he’d monitor the park Monday and Tuesday mornings.

“Now, I find the day has turned a trifle brisk,” he said. “I will escort you home once we dump the bread yon footman brings.”

Their time was over. Leah hadn’t seen the footman coming across the park, bag of bread crumbs in hand, but in just moments, he’d be within earshot.

“You cannot escort me home.”

“Can too,” Reston replied pleasantly. He rose to his great height and turned to offer her assistance. By putting his body between Leah and the approaching footman, he gave himself the space to grasp her wrist and arm in such a way that two gold sovereigns were deftly slipped into her glove.

And there was nothing Leah could do about it.

Worse, the cool weight of the golden coins felt good, solid, and encouraging. She closed her fist around them and let Reston raise her to her feet.

“I’ll take those.” Reston stretched his hand out to the footman. “And I’ll assist her ladyship down to the water.”

The footman bowed and surrendered the bread crumbs, retreating to a distance that might have been respectful, though the man’s expression remained watchful.

“So when might Lady Emily join you for another outing?” Reston asked, and Leah took the cue to limit herself to topics the footman could overhear. When the bread crumbs were gone, Reston offered his arm and sauntered along beside her placidly all the way home. At the foot of the steps, he bowed over her hand, giving it a surreptitious squeeze before taking a leisurely departure.

Leah made it a point to frown after him, knowing the footman would report this reaction as well.

“In future, William,” she said, “I will not be sending you to purchase bread crumbs for me. There are too many curious gentlemen in the park, and I do not like being subject to their interrogation regarding my sister.”

“Just so, milady. Curious, very large gentlemen.” He bowed and took his leave, no doubt going to report every word and impression to the earl.

Leah repaired directly to the library, hid her coins behind a ragged volume of Fordyce’s Sermons , then took up her embroidery hoop and awaited her own summons from the earl.

Nick’s grandmother, Della, Dowager Marchioness of Warne, had known to expect him and was thus armed with tea, scones, clotted cream, and jam when he showed up on her doorstep en route to another visit to the park.

“I ran into Ethan,” Nick said as they were sitting down in her family parlor. “He looks thinner to me.”

“You look thinner,” his grandmother said. “You great strapping lads need to mind your victuals. You lose your bloom so quickly, otherwise. Have a scone—or two.”

“I love you, Nana,” Nick said as he accepted a plate of the warm, flaky pastries. “Ethan was his usual unforthcoming self. How does he fare?”

“As if I’d know.” Della was the picture of prim disapproval, snow-white braids in a tidy coronet, blue eyes snapping with frustration. “He keeps no mistress that I know of, he does not gamble, he does not attend services, he pores over his investments and accounts, and he seldom strays from his seat in Surrey.”

Nick paused in the demolition of his scones. “When did he start tending his home fires?”

“He purchased the place six or seven years back,” Della replied. “Though he’s really been in residence only for the past three years or so. I haven’t seen the place, but I don’t think it’s far from those friends of yours. At this minute, however, he isn’t in Surrey but on his way to Belle Maison.”

Nick set the remains of his scones down. “He hasn’t been home since he was fourteen.”

“You lectured him into it when last you bumped into him in the park, for which I can only be grateful, truth be told, though I doubt he considers Belle Maison home in any regard.”

“I didn’t lecture him. I offered to go with him, and he declined.” Offered to accompany him so he might make his peace with their dying father.

“Well, he’s going. I cannot help but think it’s a good thing. Your father was at best misguided in his handling of you two, and I’ve let him know it a time or two.”

Or ten, Nick suspected. “Your efforts are, as always, appreciated, Nana.”

“Good.” Della smiled at him, a particularly feline, feminine smile that hinted at the stunning beauty of her past.

Nick’s brows crashed down. “Nana, what have you done?”

“Nothing of any import, but when I found myself at yet another boring musicale on Saturday afternoon, I did contrive to sit next to Lady Leah Lindsey and her handsome older brother. That one is sadly lacking in flirtation, I can tell you.”

“You flirted with Wilton’s heir?” Nick didn’t know whether to groan or smile.

“I did not disgrace myself, Nicholas, but I did strike up a pleasant association with the young lady and invited her to call upon me at her convenience. I am so old and lonely, and have so much time on my hands, you see.”

Guilt spiked upward. Nick shrugged it aside from long practice because Nana was a shameless manipulator who delighted in her machinations. “You are dangerous, but I was going to ask it of you anyway.”

“I know.” Della took a dainty bite of a tea cake with yellow frosting. “You were trying to work up your courage, my boy, and I don’t think the situation will admit of such leisure. The girl looks haunted.”

“She is,” Nick said, leaving it at that. “I appreciate the overture, though, and she will likely need a friend. How did the brother react?”

“He’s quiet. Lost a wife a year or two ago, another match that benefited the Wilton finances, but one gets the impression he misses the lady. She gave him several children in very short order, as I recall, so they must have gotten along to some degree.”

Or had a great deal of making up to do when theyhadn’t gotten along. “I am to meet Lady Leah in the park in thirty minutes or so. I’d best be on my way.” Nick rose and drew his grandmother to her feet, then wrapped her in a hug. “You must promise me to be careful, Nana. If you get to asking questions, it could raise some eyebrows.”