Chapter 7
Everyone would say he should be ashamed of himself. Seducing the paid companion. Making love to her on a chair, in the broad daylight no less.
Nicolas hid his grin behind his scarf as he inspected the frozen lake bordering his property with his steward. It was a good day, and he was quite proud of himself. He was happy. “Are you sure it is safe?”
His steward, Fenton, had grown up on the estate and could be trusted to know if they should skate or not. “You’ll all be fine as long as you don’t host a ball out there.”
“No chance of that.” Ten skaters hardly made for a ball, and most likely few would gather together in one place or for long. Nicolas judged the outing could go ahead and gestured to his guests that they could begin.
Jessica and Whitfield were first out and made a quick circle around each other before being joined by the slower Miss Hawthorne and Lord James.
Nicolas found rum in a hamper and held it out. “To warm your heart on a cold day.”
“My thanks, your grace.” The man took a swift pull. “Colder than a widow’s tit out here.”
The remark made him think of Gillian, whose tits were hardly cold when they were under his lips. He glanced her way and noted how slow she was in buckling her skates. He felt a touch of urgency to see her on the ice and have her on his arm.
“A fair one, she is,” Fenton remarked. “Outlasted the others by a wide margin. Cost me a pretty penny, too.”
Fenton was a bit older than Nicolas, had never married, but had many ill opinions of the fairer sex he was always keen to share.
“Were you betting on the length of a servant’s employment again?”
“It’s only ever worth betting on the female ones.” Fenton shrugged. “Hasn’t been that much excitement about this year though. A man has to do something with his idle thoughts.”
“Well, a word of advice. Don’t bet against her again.”
“That way, is it?” Fenton’s mouth twitched with a smile, and he took another long pull straight from the bottle. “From your lips to my pocket. At six months, I bet on her for an indefinite stay.”
He studied Fenton sourly. “Gambling is going to be your undoing.”
“A single man must be allowed some vices.” Fenton walked away, retreating to a sheltered spot where he could keep watch on everyone. Nicolas had several other servants scattered about the lake’s edge, which is where the most likely danger would always be found.
Nicolas cast an eye over everyone and then turned to Mrs. Thorpe, who was still seated, skates on, eying the ice warily. “Are you truly nervous?”
“Only a little.” She stood, appearing resolved to make an attempt. “I was taking a moment to pray that I do not fall. I don’t miss the bruises I used to get or the embarrassment I caused myself as a girl.”
He took her arm. “I told you I would never let you fall.”
Together they staggered to the edge of the ice in their skates. Nicolas went first, skating a few steps before he turned to watch Mrs. Thorpe. She let out a breath and then stepped, smoothly gliding onto the ice as naturally as he did.
“See,” he cheered. “You’ve forgotten nothing.”
Gillian took off, revealing her skill was a fact, leaving Nicolas laughing in her wake. He caught up to her before she’d gone too far and together they glided in lazy swirls around the other skaters. He kept watch over her. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and her hair fluttered beneath her bonnet. Her smile was radiant, and his heart filled suddenly with yearning. He wanted to touch her, hold her, very badly, right now, no matter the impropriety. “Ready?”
“For what?”
He smiled warmly. “Let’s dance.”
“Dance? Here?”
Nicolas nodded.
“I thought Jessica was joking about that.”
“Oh, no,” he promised. “I’ve tried to teach Jessica, to no avail, and have been searching for the right partner for years.”
He held out his hand, and after a moment, Gillian caught it. Nicolas drew her to face him, and glided with her backward. “It is just like dancing on a ballroom floor. You follow my lead, and I do the hard work of pushing you about.”