Nicholas had to tread carefully. He had to give the impression he was dealing with the matter, or Sebastian would drag Charles Holland to the terrace and throw him down the stone steps.
“In exchange for his silence, he wants me to pay his gaming debt to Masters.” That much was true. “Now my temper has cooled, I shall speak to him this afternoon.”
“Speak to him?” Sebastian spoke as if Nicholas were an imbecile. “Threaten to put a lead ball between his brows. That’s the only way to silence a man with no morals.”
Sebastian was right. But while Nicholas could kill Holland with a single punch, he would not have the man’s death on his conscience. And in his current state of mind, he was like a rumbling volcano, his rage ready to burst from him and destroy everyone in his path.
Lady Brompton’s appearance brought an abrupt end to their conversation. Dressed in the colours of a yellow wagtail, she flitted out through the terrace doors with her entourage in tow.
She took one look at Nicholas and arched a brow. “St Clair, you must get control of that wicked temper. One day, it may be the death of you, and thetoncannot afford to lose such a virile specimen.”
He had been called many things.
Never an excellent example of manliness.
“Ah, there you are, Denton,” their hostess chirped. “Miss De Luca tells me you’re good with a bow. Come join our little archery competition. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Nicholas scanned the group and found Holland missing.
Where the devil was he?
“Such is my skill, it would be unfair of me to compete.” Sebastian glanced at Nicholas and whispered, “If you see me within three feet of Miss De Luca, throw a stone at my head.”
“To compete against ladies?” Lady Brompton challenged.
“To compete against anyone.”
Doubting his reasons, she added, “Archery is considered a healthy pastime for the fairer sex. Fail to take up the bow, and I might think you’re a stuffy fellow who considers women nothing but rearing machines.”
Her entourage tittered, though Miss De Luca seemed more intrigued by Sebastian’s reluctance to shoot. Indeed, in a voice as smooth as honey, the lady said, “We must respect his lordship’s decision. After all, a man can only call himself skilled until someone proves otherwise.”
Full of indignation, Sebastian straightened. “Miss De Luca, are you suggesting I’m a fraud? I assure you, I am not.”
Amusement flashed in the lady’s dark eyes. “I merely suggest a man who draws attention to his talents while belittling others is rarely as good as he proclaims.”
Miss De Luca continued to goad Sebastian until he was desperate to display his skills with a bow. While their exchange was entertaining, Nicholas had a list of tasks to achieve before nightfall.
He slipped away, intent on ensuring Helen was not being harassed by fortune-hunting gentlemen.
After a brief search of the downstairs rooms, he found her sitting in the wing chair in the library, a leather-bound book open on her lap. The rakish Mr Chadderton sat perched nonchalantly on the step of the sliding ladder, commanding her attention.
Nicholas smiled to himself as he hid behind the jamb.
Nothing annoyed Helen more than being disturbed whilst reading. Hence why Miss Thorndyke sat nestled quietly in the corner like a brood hen, engaged in a volume of her own choosing.
“Do you enjoy the theatre, Miss Langley?” Chadderton asked. “There’s a performance ofThe Beggar’s Operaat the Theatre Royal next Saturday. Blanchard is playing Mr Peachum. Perhaps Lord Denton would escort you, and you may join me in my box.”
“The Beggar’s Opera? I’m afraid I find nothing amusing about criminal activities, sir,” she said in a haughty tone. “Nor do I wish to watch anything that glorifies such acts.”
Helen was not rigid in her opinions and clearly wished to deter Chadderton from pressing his advances.
The fellow was not discouraged. “Perhaps you might preferThe Warlock of the Glenat the Adelphi.”
“A melodrama? I’m not one for exaggerated emotions.”
“Take a ride in the park, then?”
“I tend to catch a chill rather easily, and it’s almost October.”