CHAPTER1
Nicholas Fairbanks paused in the act of unbuttoning his jacket and canted his head.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Delicate yet firm and decisive raps at his door revealed his caller to be a woman. He frowned, trying to recall if he had made an assignation for a tryst that he had forgotten about. No, he would not have done so, especially not for the place he temporarily called home. He had never brought a lady here, nor had he been tempted by any lover for almost three months. A startling truth that would have his brothers ribbing him beyond forbearance.
You were foxed last night. You could have made an appointment, a small voice reminded him, and he winced.
“I was barely soused,” he muttered, walking over to the door. “Nonsense, and I surely would have recalled it.”
Nicholas was not the kind of person to allow himself to drink until he could not recall the details of a night of entertainment. But last evening at the gambling den run by the Glendevons, it was from sheer boredom and a sense of dissatisfaction with life and his current sense of aimlessness that had seen him knocking back one glass of whisky after the other. That he had won a pot of two thousand pounds at the faro table was his luck, and he would invest that tidy sum soon.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Now the rap sounded impatient. Thinking it could be one of his sisters, he hastened his steps and opened the door. The delicate jasmine fragrance of his unexpected guest reached Nicholas before he saw her. He froze. None of his sisters owned the bright hazel eyes peering up at him from a face covered with a black and gold filigree masquerade mask. Perhaps the lady had knocked on the wrong door. “I believe you are at the wrong door.”
Her delicate brows drew together in a frown. “I am not, Mr. Fairbanks.”
His heart jolted. “Who are you?”
There was the slightest hesitation, then the lady squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “Mr. Fairbanks, if you would step back and allow me inside,” she said in a low voice.
“I most certainly will not,” he retorted drily. “Who are you?”
She narrowed her gaze as if she thought him ill-mannered. “I am on a clandestine and most important mission. I cannot afford discovery, my good sir.”
Her fine crisp speech immediately told him she was a lady of quality. A quick glance down the hallway revealed it empty.
“Where is your abigail?” That much he recalled from the numerous etiquette lessons he had been forced to endure these last few weeks. Ladies of quality tend to walk about with a servant called an abigail trailing behind them. To protect their virtue or some such nonsense.
A bright splash of color bloomed over her cheekbones. “I am alone, Mr. Fairbanks. Now please, permit me inside, if you please.”
Well. Nicholas stepped back, allowing her to come inside, not that he thought being alone with him was any less risky to her reputation. He was still understanding all the infernal and mostly ridiculous rules that governed those belonging to high society. Rules he must now abide by, given that his oldest brother was the newly minted Earl of Celdon, one of his younger sisters was a viscountess, and now another married the Duke of Ravenswood only a few days ago. Nicholas still could not get over that one. His wild and irrepressible sister, Lizzy, was now a bleeding duchess of the realm.
God save them all.
“What do you want?” He held up his hand to forestall her reply. “First, kindly remove your…” he waved a finger at her mask. “Your disguise and state your business.”
“Must you be so abrupt?”
He blinked. What had she expected, a welcome carpet with strawberries and champagne? “Yes. I was about to go to bed, and you interrupted me. I have been told I can be frightfully grumpy if I am denied even a minute of my beauty sleep.”
Those lovely eyes caressed over his face, and her lips parted slightly as if she did not know what to make of him. “Beauty sleep,” she said drily.
“Yes. I am uncommonly handsome, and a full nine hours of daily sleep helps me with this perfect skin.” For good measure, he bared his teeth in a mock growl. “And teeth.”
“You are an unusual man,” she murmured, frowning. “However, I shall not remove my disguise until I have ascertained if you will accept my proposal or not. It is most unusual…perhaps a little bit scandalous, but I daresay that it will not alarm you.”
“Because I am so wicked?” he asked drily, knowing the reason many widows and bored married women tossed themselves into his bed, even when he had not invited them. Not just any ordinary rake would do, but a ‘bad Fairbanks’ reputed to leave their lovers sore but deliciously sated after a night of decadent excess. Apparently, regular rakes about town only had an hour at most for their lovers.
His unknown lady shifted on her delicate slippers. “Why, yes, I am really here because of your reputation. But I must protect myself until you hear the full of my proposal. If you agree, I shall own to my identity. If you do not agree, I shall melt away into the night, and we will both pretend I was not here.”
Nicholas wondered for a moment if he might still be soused and simply did not know it. He stared at the lady before him, her bright hazel eyes spitting fire, very much in stark contrast to the calm elegance with which she walked and was arrayed. She had not taken off her dark blue cloak, and it swirled about her feet as she paced. That he suspected her of being Lady Cressida Winters, daughter to an influential earl, made little sense that she was at his bachelor’s lodgings above St. James Square.
“You are Lady Cressida Winters, second eldest daughter to Lord Dunmore.”
She gasped rather dramatically and froze.