The Captain of All Pleasures

Chapter 26

Oh, yes, he was making his mother happy. She flitted around Lady Crossman’s ballroom from one matchmaking mama to the next, teasing them with Derek as if he were a slab of meat set before ravenous animals. Earlier she’d mentioned that people were surprisingly receptive to the idea of Derek remarrying. Soon, she predicted, all the new layers of gossip would bury the scandal.

People could overlook a lot when one of the wealthiest peers in London had just become available. Particularly since his mother had told everyone he was actively seeking a wife. He supposed it wasn’t a lie; he was actively seeking Nicole.

He’d always had a sense of wasting time at the soirees and routs, as if he were just playing up to something that would happen in the future. Tonight was no different. He was anxious and impatient. With Nicole, he’d lived in the present. Not thinking of the future or the past, but only of his time with her. Recalling how easy he’d felt around her made it even more difficult to be civil to all the little chits pushed at him and Grant. Their vapid conversation had not improved in the time he’d been away. Not that he’d expected it to.

He thought he’d concealed the worst part of his irritation, but if the petulant little looks and huffy retreats were any indication, he hadn’t succeeded. Grant knew that he’d reached his limit, because he politely removed him from the crowd. Grant looked about to laugh when Derek made a throttling gesture with his hands.

“So, little brother, am I doing my duty?”

“If not in spirit, then at least in deed,” Grant replied with a grin. “You should see your scowls. You look menacing.”

“That must be because I am completely bloody miserable.”

Grant smiled ruefully. “I see now that this won’t work for you. Well, at any rate, I appreciate all you’re doing—or trying to do—for our dear, sweet mother.”

As if on cue, Amanda marched over to them with a disdainful look on her face. Both sons groaned.

“Really, Derek, I did not want you to come here to scare away all your potential brides.” She opened her fan in a huff. “And I mean that literally—you do scare them! Why, I heard from Lady Hanson that her daughter was too afraid to come anywhere near your glowering self.”

He shrugged casually. “Ask Grant here, at least he thinks I’m trying. And I’ve had many ladies come up to me tonight.”

“Yes, but those are the more desperate ones. Hardly good ton. Their families make them cozen up to win a man like you.”

Grant obviously thought that was hilarious, but with watering eyes he kept his laughter in check.

Derek grinned in response. Sometimes he could see in Grant the lighthearted boy he’d been.

“Anyone for champagne?” Grant offered. “Mother?”

“That would be lovely,” she replied with evident maternal pride in his manners.

He looked to Derek, and when he shook his head, Grant smiled before he turned to go. Derek then dutifully listened as his mother expounded on the merits of various young women, hinting broadly that he should choose them over anyone, any one woman, he might have in mind. Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit.

In fact, when Grant had accidentally let it slip that Derek was searching for a sailor, his mother had been just short of swooning. The idea that he was besotted with a penniless American who lived on a sailing vessel had become all too clear….

A hushed murmur flew over the floor, distracting Derek’s attention from their conversation. A curious rush of anticipation surged through him.

Amanda carried on undaunted, not discerning that he wasn’t really listening. “Yes, after that debacle with Lydia, you have to marry only the best. We can’t have her kind aligned with the family again,” she said, pushing her point again that the American “wharf rat girl” was not for him.

“Of course,” he replied automatically, his curiosity piqued by the disturbance at the door. He felt an immediate excitement; indeed, his whole body tensed.

And then…it happened.

Staring, with his jaw slack. He was capable of no more when he saw Nicole, Nicole as he’d never dreamed of her. She was dressed in a pale blue gown wrought of some gauzy, near-transparent material. Her coloring had always been vivid, but when set against the soft blue, it made him silently marvel. And with her red-gold braids and curls piled atop her head, her body looked small and delicate, fairylike. Yet at the same time she was softer, fuller, and she easily filled the low, straight bodice of her gown.

He wasn’t the only one experiencing the pleasure of watching her, he realized with a glaring sweep around the room. As she proudly walked in on some older man’s arm, all around her people stopped their conversations and stared.

She looked changed, and not merely because of the clothing. Her air was more sedate, and her regal demeanor was pronounced as her escort presented people to her. Wait, why were people being presented to her?

His mother did not miss his obvious reaction. “Oh, I see you’ve spied the talk of the ton,” she commented, sounding pleased. “That’s the Atworth granddaughter, Lady Christina. We’d all heard the story of the shy, retiring heiress finally coming back to London, but who would have thought she would be so lovely?”

“Lady? Shy?” he managed before he snapped his mouth shut.

His skin went cold, and his chest tightened. He watched dumbfounded as Nicole, looking like a princess, was led through the crowd. Who was that man escorting her?

He ran a hand over his face. Things began to make a warped kind of sense. Put Nicole in a dress, and she transforms into a lady. “What’s their title?” he snapped.

His mother frowned at him, but said, “The girl is sole heir to the Atworth marquisate.” Misunderstanding the reason for his stunned expression, she explained, “Because of some political wrangling a few hundred years ago, if there is no immediate male heir, the title will devolve on a female, and so she is the heir. She’s to be a marchioness, and a ridiculously wealthy one to boot. She would have come to England sooner, but she was afraid to travel—”

“Afraid to travel?” She’d gone toe-to-toe with him in a grueling sailing race. How many future marchionesses understood which sailing chanteys accompanied which chores? Or knew not to tuck their thumbs in their fists when hitting someone?

Why hadn’t she told him?

He’d only been half-listening as his mother prattled on, but one comment drew his attention. “She won’t be on the market long. She’s had a score of offers. Even now, look at all the lovesick swains.”

Nicole was thronged by suitors. His hands clenched.

“Oh, Derek, I do wish you would marry someone like her,” she sighed.

“Done.” He gave her an absent pat on her hand.

“Done? Just like that? What’s the meaning—”

“It just occurred to me that you are, as usual, absolutely right,” he interrupted, never taking his eyes off Nicole, as if afraid she might disappear. “And I will endeavor to do what’s best for the family. Now, if you will excuse me…” He stalked off, nearly knocking the glasses from Grant’s hands as he returned.

When Nicole spotted him, her eyes widened in astonishment. Distress rang in her voice. “Derek!”

She caught herself, and looked around at the surprised faces of her acquaintances. “Uh, Lord Stanhope. We hadn’t expected to be honored with your presence this evening,” she said, her empty pleasantry more even with each word.

“Care for a stroll?” he asked, as he bent down to secure her arm.

“Well, I don’t believe—” Nicole started airily, but he pulled her up from her seat on a settee and along to the terrace.

“Sutherland!” she said, once he’d maneuvered them outside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You don’t go to these things. I heard you didn’t attend these functions!”

“I could ask the same of you. When did sailors start making Lady Crossman’s eminence list?”

Her eyes slitted as she answered, “I have as much right to be here as you do, maybe more.”

“That’s right. Seems you rank above even me in the hierarchy. You must have been amused when I accused you of trying to bag an earl.”

She tilted her head side to side. “Well, there was a pleasing sense of irony about it, yes,” she said.

“It’s the perfect cover—Lady Christina living a quiet life in finishing school on the Continent, never visiting because she’s afraid to travel, but finally coming back to live with her grandmother. I’d wager Lady Christina’s shyness makes it difficult to get any information about her because she doesn’t accept many visitors.”

Nicole assumed a bored pose. “So you’ve figured us out. Shall I clap?”

“I thought I knew you,” he said with a rough smile. “You rub one foot against the opposite calf when you’re nervous. You angle your head when curious.” He leaned in near her ear, his voice low as he said, “And when I bring you to pleasure, your little toes curl.”

She jumped away from him, shivering. “Are you quite through?”

He reached for her gloved hand, but she moved closer to the railing as though averse to his touch. A cold mask fell into place on her striking features. “Give me one reason why you feel you’re entitled to even a second of my time.”

He took a deep breath. “I need to explain some things—”

“You think?” she cut in bitterly.

This was not going as planned. He’d hoped she’d be somewhat glad to see him—hoped she’d missed him enough to at least listen to an explanation. “Do you even want to know why I left?”

“Oh, I believe I know why,” she assured him as she turned to go.

When he grasped her arm again, she struggled to fling him away. “Let me go,” she said with such venom in her voice, he almost did.

“Not until you let me explain.”

She pulled away again, trying to get someone’s attention through the corridor.

“Who are you looking for? One of your young pups?”

She smiled then. “I’ll most likely marry one of those men.”

“The hell you will!”

“And why not? You still don’t think I’m good enough?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

Before he could stop himself, he grated, “Because you’re going to be my wife.”

Her eyes widened, then glittered in anger. “Well, that’s a rapid turnover. Word has it you just got rid of the last one.”

“So you know?”

“Everyone knows.” She looked down and smoothed the flounces on her skirt with snappish, overly crisp motions.

“Give me a chance to explain that. Please,” he added at her uncompromising look.

“What’s to explain? We were together for that long, and you never told me you were married.”

“You never told me you were heir to one of the wealthiest houses in England.”

“That’s not the same! I didn’t hurt you by my omission.”

He exhaled and reached for her hand. “You’re right.”

She looked startled that he’d agreed, but masked it quickly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Nothing can excuse the way you treated me.” Her eyes became suspiciously bright. “Leave me alone,” she demanded, and tried to free her hand.

When he held her firm, she brought the heel of her slipper down on his instep and jerked away at the same time, immediately fleeing to the ladies’ retiring room.

He hurried after her, indifferent to the scene. At the doorway, he accosted the squat matron standing attendance.

“Does this room have another way out?” he barked.

“Really, Stanhope, the nerve—”

“Does it or not?” he ground out.

“Yes!”

He ran out the patio doors and along the side of the building to find the door to the retiring room. He didn’t have to look for long before he saw Nicole, skirts hiked, barreling out into the street. He had to smile. Even dressed like royalty, underneath she was his irrepressible Nicole. His heavy footfalls echoed on the street as he gained on her.

Until she reached Mayfair, turned a corner, and ran directly up the front steps of what had to be the largest mansion on the square.

Derek stared, marveling at the luxurious home. How had Nicole ever gotten comfortable in this place dripping with money? He followed up the steps and banged the massive brass knocker, waiting impatiently until an elderly butler answered.

“I would like to see…Lady Christina.”

“My lady does not receive visitors at this hour,” he answered on a whistling breath. “Would you care to leave a card?”

“No, I want to see her.”

The man shuffled his feet. “My lady does not receive—”

“So be it,” Derek interrupted, easily pushing past the old man, only to be greeted by two huge footmen who did not look happy. Wasn’t that a measure of status, how large your footmen were? If so, he thought as they grabbed his arms, it would appear the marchioness was doing exceedingly well. He was fighting to shake them off when a dull thump sounded from the second floor.

She was there, rising with the book she’d just dropped. Her hand flew over her mouth until she yanked it to her side. The two footmen also turned to the noise, so Derek was able to steal a fleeting look at her. She’d risen to her full height, standing proudly and acting unconcerned.

A corner of his lip quirked up. She was his . The fact that she didn’t even realize she would be married to him within a fortnight made him grin. He smiled even as the two men were shoving him out the doors.

“Look for me, Nicole,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be everywhere you are until you agree to talk to me. This is just beginning.”