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Why now? Why did she have to send for him now? Just when everything was perfect with Olivia.
He felt suddenly resentful, and remembering the way he’d left Olivia, and the expression on her face, only made him feel worse. But he couldn’t explain to her—there was no time. She would have been upset, and rightly so, and he didn’t want to face that, not until he was able to tell her the full story, in his own way. Make her understand.
Nic sighed and shifted his weight from his lame leg. Who was he fooling? How the devil was he going to be able to make her understand? She was more likely to walk out and never return, and he wouldn’t be the least surprised if she did. He wouldn’t blame her if she felt her love for him was a betrayal and a sham, but still he’d have to try. Because Nic knew now that if he lost her he himself would be lost.
He turned toward the narrow house. Better get it over with, he thought wearily. If it was anything like the last time, it would probably take him hours to smooth over the crisis, and the sooner he started, the sooner he could go home to his wife. And he walked up to the front door and rattled the knocker.
A moment later Mildred, the housekeeper, opened the door, her unsmiling face as unfriendly-looking as ever. Appearances could be deceptive—Mildred was a kind and generous woman, and, importantly, Nic trusted her.
“Lord Lacey,” she said with obvious relief. “Thank you for coming, sir. I’m so sorry to bother you on such a night. You know I wouldn’t have asked if—if—”
“I know, Mildred,” he reassured her. “Where is she?”
“She’s locked herself in the pantry,” she said, showing him inside the house. “There’s a key. I keep it myself to stop the kitchen maid from filching. The mistress must have found it, and now she’s locked the pantry door from the inside. I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. She keeps asking for you.”
“Of course.”
He followed Mildred down the corridor that led past the stairs and into the back part of the house, where the small kitchen, scullery, and laundry were situated. A fire was burning merrily in the hearth, and the table and other surfaces shone, while the floor was spotless. A tray of small cakes was sitting by a tin, ready to be put away when they were cool enough.
Mildred saw him glance at them. Her mouth curled up in a surprisingly sweet smile for such a dour face. “There’re for Master Jonah, sir. His favorite. When he’s home I always like to bake him a treat or two.”
Nic smiled back, thinking Jonah was a lucky boy to have Mildred. “Is he well?”
“Oh yes, bright as a button. And he’d doing very well at his lessons, sir. Even when he’s on holidays he has his head in a book.”
“Ah, an intellectual. My father was the same. One day I will have to show Jonah the library at Castle Lacey and—”
Just then there was a loud thumping coming from behind the pantry door.
“Nic, Nic!” screeched a high-pitched voice. “Is that you, Nic?”
He and Mildred exchanged a glance. “Lord Lacey is here now,” Mildred called. “Please, do come out, mistress.”
Nic walked over to the pantry. The door was old and heavy, and looked as if it might once have belonged to a cellar. He didn’t relish the thought of breaking it down, and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“I’m here,” he said in a gentle tone, leaning against the door. “I’ve had to leave in the middle of the Querrols’ ball, just to come and see you.” The lie was a small one, but he knew she preferred the dramatic.
“In the middle of a dance?”
“A waltz, yes. I left the lady in the middle of a spin, and I don’t know what happened to her afterward.”
She giggled. Always a good sign if he could make her laugh.
“You’re a wicked man, Nic,” she said.
“That’s my name.”
A heartbeat later they heard the key turning in the lock and the click of the latch. Slowly, cautiously, the door opened a crack, and a woman’s piqued face loomed out of the shadows.
“Nic,” she sighed.
Nic smiled, held out his hand for her to grasp, and prepared to have his patience stretched to its limits.
Olivia had undressed and washed, and now Estelle finished helping her into her nightgown. Nic still hadn’t returned.
“I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to wait up for Lord Lacey,” she said, as Estelle slipped the warming pan beneath the covers of her bed.
Estelle said nothing.
