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Chapter 29
Lemon was not an easy taste to rid oneself of. But in this case, Nick wasn’t bothered by that at all. A smile grew on his lips as he stretched in bed, recalling the moment in the stairwell the night before and the way Giulia had fit ever so perfectly in his arms.
She had been a willing participant. Nay, she had been an instigating participant, in his view of things. She had ignited his soul and settled his nerves and he knew, from the moment she kissed him, that he would never want anyone but her for the rest of his life. He was sunk.
He was in love.
“What is that foolish grin for?” Jack asked, stoking the fire.
“You’d like to know.” Nick pulled himself up, stretching his arm and rotating his shoulder against the soreness. The morning light streamed through the windows as Jack threw the drapes back and Nick sat on the edge of his bed, leaning his hands on the edge of the mattress and grinning.
Jack crossed the floor and threw open the clothes press before selecting a shirt and trousers for Nick. He paused, his eyebrows drawing together, and stared at Nick, who couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Have you gone mad?” Jack asked.
“No. Maybe foolish, perhaps. But not mad.”
Jack straightened. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That is clearly not true.” He laid a cravat over the back of the chair and faced Nick, disappointment on his brow. “You’ve not compromised her, have you?”
Fire shot through Nick’s veins and he swallowed his affront. Jack might have become something of a friend when Nick brought him to Halstead, but even in that capacity he had no right to tell Nick how to live his life. “Mind your place,” Nick said. “I brought you here to be my valet, Jack, not to run my life. You have no business approving or disapproving any of my choices.” He swallowed, holding Jack’s gaze.
“Mind my place?” Jack sputtered, his face mottling with rage. A lock of hair flipped over on his brow as he shook his head. “Your head’s grown bigger than your station, if you ask me.”
“No one did ask you,” Nick said. Regret clutched his heart from the words spoken in anger and he shook his head. This wasn’t right. This was not how one spoke to a friend.
Jack stood by his clothes press, chest heaving and eyes wild. He was spitting mad and Nick didn’t blame him. He’d be just as angry were the roles reversed. This was a man he’d fished with as a boy and though they did not remain close as they’d aged, he owed Jack the decency of respect.
“Forgive me, Jack,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “I just cannot handle the pressure sometimes. And now the earl wants me to marry—it is all just too much.”
Jack’s expression was tight. He did not appear eager to brush the argument under the carpet. Instead, he nodded once and went about dressing Nick for the day. There was discord between them and evidently one simple apology was not going to fix it.
Nick swallowed his irritation at his valet. It was not worth his energy at present. He would fix things eventually.
* * *
Giulia stepped quietly from her room, meandering down the hall while her mind floated somewhere far above the castle. Kissing Nick had felt like coming home. He was just the sort of man to inspire fanciful, affectionate poetry. If Giulia was the sort of woman who wrote fanciful, affectionate poetry, that is.
Her mind was constantly wandering back to Nick, the dim staircase, and the lemon-infused kiss, but she was aware enough to recall the important matter at hand. Ames was here, and he’d brought her father’s things. He sent a note to her earlier that morning asking for help going through the trunks and papers, and she was prepared to search meticulously for any clue. The mystery was beginning to wear. She was ready to quit feeling the constant need to look over her shoulder.
She reached the landing connecting her to the east staircase and nearly ran into Jack, he had been racing down the steps so quickly.
“Good heavens,” she said, resting her hand on her heart. “You are in quite a rush.”
Jack bowed, irritation clear on his brow. Was he bothered by her? She hadn’t tried to step in his path. What was he doing on the main steps, anyway? She was certain he used the servants’ stairs most of the time.
“Forgive me, Miss Pepper,” he said stiffly.
“What is it, Jack?” she asked, her mind drifting back to the moment when he’d stepped forward and comforted her despite the impropriety. He had not bothered to hold back when she was in despair. Surely she could return the favor.
She had not grown up gallivanting about the oceans without gaining an appreciation for human beings of all social classes.
Jack paused, gazing at her with such focus, she was nearly positive the man had begun wool-gathering.
“You are being careful, are you not?” he asked, startling her. His deep voice permeated her cheerful, dreamlike state.
A cool chill ran up her arms. “I have only left the castle one time since seeing my mother, if that is what you—”
