The sudden knock on the door and the click of the key in the lock caught him by surprise. The footman entered, carrying a silver tray, steam rising from a plate of veal and buttered vegetables.
His stomach rumbled.
But he had a different hunger to contend with.
Nicholas had him place the tray on the bed. Then—in a moment of desperation and madness—he waited until the servant’s hands were free, uttered “Forgive me” and hit the man with an uppercut to the jaw.
He managed to catch the footman before he fell like a dead weight and smacked his head on the bedpost. After laying the unconscious man out like a cadaver, Nicholas snatched his coat and waistcoat, locked the door behind him and crept down the servants’ staircase.
He found Helen pacing some distance from the house. She was so lost in her reverie, she did not hear him approach.
“What are you doing outside alone?” he said softly so as not to startle her. “With the increase in your dowry, Chadderton might seek any opportunity to know you better.”
She swung around to face him, her brow furrowing in consternation. “Nicholas! Good grief! You shouldn’t be out here. Mr Hope will think you’re absconding. You must be the model citizen until we can make sense of this mess.”
Drawn to her like a magnet, he closed the gap between them. “I’m permitted to take fifteen minutes of air.” It was a logical assumption, not an act of benevolence by the coroner. “Besides, Mr Hope is currently obsessing over Lady Brompton’s best claret.”
“He is?” She glanced at the house, a monstrous shadow in the gloom. “Well, I can’t imagine he would allow you to wander far. Should you not have a guard?”
“The footman has been on his feet all day and is using the time to rest.” And by Nicholas’ estimation, he had ten minutes to say what he needed and be on his way. But …
What did one say to a woman he might never see again?
Regrettably, he could not make a sweeping declaration. A man did not give a woman he loved false hope. He did not make promises he couldn’t keep.
She shook her head. “Tell me this is a horrible nightmare. Tell me this is part of Mr Holland’s wicked plan, and he’s not really lying dead in the ice house.”
“Sadly, it all seems so dreadfully real.” He sighed, his heart black and heavy like a storm cloud. “I should not have come to Grayswood. It was a mistake I fear will cost me dearly.”
So much for trusting in fate.
So much for believing in destiny.
He tried to focus on something other than the tragic turn of events. “The dinner gong rang twenty minutes ago. Why are you not inside with the other guests?” And with a murderer on the loose, why was Sebastian not stuck to her like glue?
“I have no appetite.” She looked pale and preoccupied, and it was evident she’d been crying. “I told Sebastian I needed to rest in my room, that I might take a light supper when—” She broke on a whimper. “Nicholas, I am so scared. The evidence against you is mounting. I don’t know how we can prove your innocence.” Tears trickled down her porcelain cheeks. “What if you’re dragged away to gaol, and I never see you again? What if—”
“Don’t worry about me.” He threw his clothes on the ground, slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
“Nicholas, they suspect you of murder. I can’t help but worry.”
“Should the worst happen, my friends will make a rescue bid.” Aaron Chance owed him a boon. “I can always live out my days in France.” If he failed to find the true villain, he would rather flee England than risk the noose.
“France? But you’re innocent. Surely it won’t come to that.” She must have seen a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shirt and cried.
He held her like he did at her mother’s funeral: dangerously close. Except this time, he couldn’t help but inhale the sweet scent of her hair. He couldn’t stop his heart beating hard in his chest, couldn’t stop pressing his lips to her temple, whispering words he shouldn’t have said.
“Hush,love. I swear I shall make this right. The next time I hold you in my arms, there’ll be no need to cry.” He spoke from the heart. It was the closest he would come to a confession.
“Do you promise?” she mumbled against the fine lawn.
“Have I ever broken an oath?”
“Never.”
Yet something had changed.