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He just had to get through this meeting with Middleton then he could return to her. Perhaps once she saw that everything was all right, she would understand. He hated the wounded look he’d seen in her eyes.
“Come along, Nicholas.”
“Very well.” He and Somerton walked down the long corridor to Middleton’s study. Somerton entered the room with stealth then waved him inside.
“There is no one in here,” he commented even as he checked behind the blue velvet curtains. “And the only door is the one we entered through.”
“As I said, there is no reason for her intuition tonight. I will give Middleton the note, wait for his reply, and then I leave.”
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Somerton grimaced. “I certainly hope so.”
Hearing the strangled tone of Somerton’s voice, Nicholas asked, “What is wrong?”
“I do not know. But suddenly I’m starting to believe she is right. Something feels wrong here.”
“We have checked the room already. As long as you let no one in, save Middleton, everything will be fine.” Nicholas raked his hand through his hair, exasperated with the conversation.
“I think it’s a trap,” Somerton said. “Perhaps, I should stay in the room with you.”
Somerton could intimidate any man and Nicholas didn’t need that tonight. “There is no trap. Nothing is wrong. Just wait out in the hall and only let Middleton inside.”
Somerton shook his head. “As you wish.”
Once Somerton had left, Nicholas walked to the corner of the room and reached for a decanter of brandy. After pouring a large snifter, he moved to a seat by the window. This way, he would notice if anyone tried to enter the room via the back of the house.
Both Sophie and Somerton had left with him a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Could they both be wrong? A sudden urge to run from the room hit him. Perhaps he should invite Somerton to wait with him.
“God, this is insane,” he mumbled, then sipped his brandy down in one gulp.
There was no one in the room with him. There was no way in which anyone could enter without Somerton letting them in. He pulled out his pocket watch again. Where the bloody hell was Middleton?
He refilled his glass and stared out the window. The rain had kept most of the people inside the ballroom tonight. One young woman laughed as she raced down the gravel path followed by a man. He would have to remember to never let Emma out of his sight at balls such as these.
The sound of wood sliding made him turn away from the window. Justine Littlebury silently entered the room with a slight smile on her face.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said coyly.
The world around him started to spin. Why hadn’t they thought to check for secret passages? Somerton knew better.
Miss Littlebury moved closer to him, holding the bodice of her gown with her hand. “You are dreadfully quiet, my lord.”
“You must leave, Miss Littlebury.”
“But I was told to come here and be with you. That you are my perfect match.” She stepped closer until the overpowering scent of her rose perfume made him sneeze.
“My perfect match?”
“Yes.” She started to move her hands up his waistcoat.
Grabbing her hands, he asked, “Who told you that?”
“Miss Reynard, of course. She is the imminent matchmaker of the ton.”
Sophie told her that she was his match! That made no sense. Sophie would have told him Miss Littlebury was the woman for him. So preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t notice that she had slipped her hands out of his grip and around his neck.
He blinked and her lips were on his. He grabbed her shoulders only to find that the back of her dress was unbuttoned.
