“Actually, we are alone. Next time, it would be no trouble for me to wait in the drawing room, no matter the company.”
Lady Mercy’s smile faltered slightly, just at the corners, and if she weren’t standing so close to him, he might have missed it. “My parents won’t think anything of the two of us standing here with them on the other side of the door, and Mrs. Brooksby is just down the corridor.”
“And you don’t mind?” If Lady Mercy had a fault, and he wasn’t completely certain she did, it would be that she was too trusting. If she knew how much he thought of her when they were apart or, worse, the way he was thinking of her now, she would be more careful. He’d spent years bottling up the emotions he’d allowed to control his life with Lady Plymton, and now that he was turning the keys in those locks, he was afraid whatever he’d imprisoned might escape with such force that he would terrify the woman who stood so innocently before him.
She laughed in a way that made him quite certain she did not see into his mind and arched an eyebrow. “Do you have some evil design on me that you can accomplish silently in the next thirty seconds?”
Her laughter was tranquil and spontaneous, and it echoed in the hall, even after it was gone. Telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her didn’t count as an evil plan, did it? “I don’t.”
She smiled a soft smile and sighed in what he thought mightbe contentment. They stood there, silent, watching the stairs and occasionally taking glimpses at each other, neither of them feeling a strong enough desire to speak to break the comfortable quiet of just being near each other.
He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and savored the moment. Somehow, his plan was working. Everything was falling into place. Lady Mercy had become comfortable with him, smiled at him, and even trusted him. His feelings for her were steadily growing, whether they were together or apart.
He hadknowndoing things the proper way would work. Despite Patience being blissfully happy in her innocent yet ill-gotten marriage, he knew that wasn’t the only way to find happiness. It couldn’t be. And yet, he still scarcely believed he could be so fortunate.
Lady Mercy cleared her throat softly, and he turned to her. “I believe you know Lord and Lady Yolten?”
“Yes.” Not very well, but he knew them. He had seen a few marriages made between those with titles and money, but he had never seen one happier than Lord and Lady Yolten’s. Lady Yolten was an interesting young lady. He was never certain how she would answer or respond to any given situation. She and his sister, Patience, would make for extreme trouble if they ever got to know each other well.
“Lady Yolten is my closest friend. She and a friend of hers are in the drawing room. Shall we join them?”
He nodded. As long as he had the opportunity to spend time with Lady Mercy, he didn’t care if all of London descended upon her home. Lady Mercy wrapped her hand around his arm, and almost without thinking, he placed his hand on top of hers and gave her fingers the slightest of squeezes before letting his hand drop back down to his side. Twice. Twice he had held her hand today. And after he had convinced himself he would ignore that piece of advice from Lord Bryant.
“Wonderful.” Lady Mercy’s voice was light and airy. “Lady Yolten’s friend is Miss Morgan.”
Nicholas missed a step. Miss Morgan was in the drawing room? Miss Morgan was calculating to a fault, and Lady Yolten was one of the most unique, but also genuine, women in London. He never would have thought the two of them would be close friends.
This day had just become much more complicated.
Lady Mercy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Was his distress noticeable? He straightened his spine and plastered a smile on his face. He had spent the last two years pretending to be delighted every time he saw Miss Morgan, even flirting with her when necessary to keep her appeased. There were several other people who knew of the indiscretions that had led to Patience’s marriage, but he trusted every single other person to keep it a secret.
Every person except Miss Morgan and her family.
“I take it you know Miss Morgan?” Lady Mercy said, with a low strange tone in her voice.
Blast. He hadn’t hidden his surprise—not at all. “Yes, we are acquainted,” he said stiffly.
“Well then,” Lady Mercy said, the strange quality in her voice gone. Perhaps he had imagined it. “This should be a delightful afternoon. She mentioned she knew you.”
“She did?” Blast. Had she told Lady Mercy about Patience? How could it be that Miss Morgan was the friend Lady Yolten invited? He wanted to curse. He was fully prepared to follow Lord Bryant’s advice and confess his feelings toward Lady Mercy, but instead, now he would be involved in a game of cat and mouse with Miss Morgan.
“What did she say?”
“Oh, not much more than that you knew each other. Why? Is there more to it than that?”
Nicholas smiled, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work just right. The corners wouldn’t turn up properly. Nor could he answer her—not honestly. He could tell Lady Mercy about what happened to Patience. She might not even think any less of anyone for it. But perhaps the story would be told better if Patience were the one to tell it. Especially if his hopes of the two of them becoming sisters-in-law came to fruition. But even more than that, it’d been mere days since he told Lady Mercy about Lady Plymton, and to have the two most scandalous events of his life shared with Lady Mercy without any breathing room between? He couldn’t open his mouth and do it.
Chapter 17
Mercy pretended to think aboutwhere to move her next chess piece, but in reality, she watched the Duke of Harrington from the corner of her eye. Miss Morgan had given him a pretty little bow when he came in, her cheeks aflame, and Harrington had smiled pleasantly at her in return. If she hadn’t heard anything of their past history, she might not have noticed the way he kept taking furtive glances at Miss Morgan every time Mercy’s eyes were on the board.
Mercy put a finger on top of her queen. “She has a lovely figure, doesn’t she?”
Harrington’s head jerked back to the chessboard. “Pardon?”
“My queen, both queens, I suppose. The woodworker must have been a master.”
“Oh.” The Duke of Harrington blinked as if he was only just understanding what she meant. “Yes, I’m certain you’re right.”
