Nicholas found himself agreeing with the man he despised. He did not trust Charles Holland. Perhaps it was a ruse, and the thief would send a ransom note for ten thousand pounds.
“Know this,” Nicholas snapped. “This changes nothing between us. I stand by my earlier threat. I want the documents, or I’ll have your neck in a noose.” He cut the devil short when he tried to speak. “I’ll not hear a word from you until tomorrow. You will feign illness and dine in your room tonight.”
Holland’s expression darkened, but he shook off his frustration and nodded. “You can’t ignore our blood bond, St Clair.”
Nicholas snorted. “Why? Our mother did!”
And then he stormed past the groom lingering at the entrance, keen to put a mile between himself and the sly snake who would never be his brother.
* * *
Helen had sensed something was amiss when she locked eyes with Nicholas across the dining table and felt an icy shiver, not the usual flare of heat. The seat next to her remained empty. Mr Holland had suddenly taken ill, and her mind invented a host of macabre possibilities.
To her relief, Mrs Waltham—the man’s aunt and friend of Lady Brompton—explained her nephew had downed large quantities of brandy throughout the day and now suffered with a megrim.
Thank heavens. Helen feared Nicholas had murdered the fop.
Still, something was wrong. When a woman loved a man, she could sense his shift in mood, feel the tension behind his false smile.
Sebastian was oblivious, focusing all his energy on his verbal spars with Miss De Luca. For no apparent reason, the lady annoyed him to distraction, which was undoubtedly why Lady Brompton had sat them together.
Sadly, Mr Chadderton occupied the seat to Helen’s left, and the fellow had taken to quoting Byron and confessing to his love of charades.
She hadn’t the heart to tell him she disliked both. Indeed, her only thoughts were of Nicholas—the man who did not see her as a sister—and the daggers of disdain he hurled at her annoying companion.
Much to Helen’s disappointment, Lady Brompton insisted the ladies join the men for port before the card game, ruining all hope of her meeting Nicholas at the folly.
And so, the long case clock had just tolled midnight, and she was about to douse the candle when a note appeared beneath her door.
Are you awake?
Nicholas’ teasing scent clung to the crisp paper. Heedless of her dishabille, she prised the door quietly from the jamb and peered out into the dim corridor.
Nicholas stood in the darkness, his impressive silhouette stealing her breath. He inhaled deeply through his nose as his gaze drifted over her loose hair, plain white nightgown and bare toes.
“Come with me,” he whispered, and she had to pinch herself, for this was surely a dream. “Sebastian is in the billiard room and is three sheets to the wind. Fetch your shoes and coat. We’ll take the servants’ stairs.”
Every nerve sprang to life, but it took her a moment to move. Indeed, such was the rapid beating of her heart, she fumbled with the simple tasks of buttoning her pelisse and lacing her boots.
Her knees almost buckled when Nicholas took her hand and led her stealthily through the shadows. She tried to focus on creeping down the stone stairs, but his palm was hot against hers, his grip firm and strong.
They left the house through the herb garden and headed towards the woods. The night was clear, the waning moon high. If there was a chill in the air, she didn’t notice. Her blood pumped so wildly through her veins, she barely heard the rustling of animals foraging in the undergrowth or the crack of twigs beneath their feet as they navigated the narrow woodland path.
They reached the folly—a mock ruin of a small stone tower. Nature had claimed the building long ago. Ivy clung to the walls, and the bough of a tree poked out through one lancet window.
“Wait here. I’ll check there’s no one inside.” Nicholas released her and moved to inspect the building that was only ten feet wide.
She wondered why they had come here.
He might have easily slipped into her bedchamber and conversed with her there. They might have hidden in the herb garden or behind the hothouse.
Nicholas appeared in the doorway and beckoned her forward.
“How are you?” she said once concealed inside the folly. “I have not spoken to you all day.” Though she had thought about him constantly.
“I saw you in the library, but Chadderton was attempting to woo you with offers of exciting escapades about town.”
And she had done her utmost to deter him. “Why Sebastian thinks the man is a good match for me is beyond all sense and reason.”