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He moved toward the west stairwell.
“I will summon Isaac forthwith.”
Nicholas stiffened. He did not want to listen to the canary chirping, was far too weary for it. He bit back a like comment. Fredericks did not need to hear such dismissal of his grandson. Blood was blood, after all.
“I have done for myself many a year, Fredericks. Let him go to bed. Although, Idoneed more brandy in my room. Preferably some of the earl’s stock.”
He did not care to see Fredericks’s response, so he quickly took the stairs and rounded the gallery to his bedroom, hesitating for a moment. Two doors down lay Catherine. Had she lain awake waiting for him? Did she yet stare at the ceiling, wondering if he would come this night? His abrupt laugh was startling in the stillness. She despised him. How could she not after what he’d forced upon her?
The warmth of a fire greeted him. He rolled his head from side to side, then reached back with one hand, massaging the nape of his neck. He surveyed the room, his eyes landing on the large poster bed—a bed meant to be shared—and shifted quickly away. There was no sign Daniel had ever occupied it. Finally a corner of the world that did not hold his memory. This room was all Lord Woodfield. A thought that would normally be distasteful but now brought relief.
Nicholas thought briefly of his father. Nicholas had invited him to the wedding, but the earl had declined. He’d claimed faltering health, but the disdain in his expression had said otherwise. In truth, Nicholas could not blame his sire. To see one woman betrothed to both sons—well, he’d no idea what that must be like. He could not fathom the thought himself. How could he possibly understand the workings of the mind of a curmudgeonly old man?
Nicholas tossed his jacket on a chair, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and slipped it off, then stood in front of the fireplace. A chill chased up his spine. He had all but forgotten the wet, cold day, but his body remembered it well enough. A light tap at the door, and Fredericks quietly ushered in several footmen with hot water, which was soon splashing in Nicholas’s dressing room. Ah, Fredericks. Such an efficient man.
He pulled his shirt over his head in anticipation of the bath. A slight gasp caught his attention. The young maid from the other morning stood in the doorway, as red-faced as she had been when she’d held her tray of tea. He grabbed his banyan and pulled it on, fumbling with the damn frogs, the satin loops elusive. The heat of embarrassment raced up his neck. He was always respectful of the innocent, servant or no.
“By the fire will be fine, um…”
“Kate,” she supplied, giggling as she set the tray on the table by the chair. She made a fuss of arranging the brandy and wine with their accompanying glasses before facing him again. “If you should need anything else, my lord.” She let the offer drift as she walked by him, stopped to trickle her hand down his arm, then glanced over her shoulder as she exited.
The chit was propositioning him! He shook his head. So much for innocence. Grabbing the decanter, he poured a stout brandy and, sinking into the voluptuous chair, rubbed his neck again with his free hand while replaying the awkward scene. The girl was definitely offering to dally with him. On his wedding night! When had he become such a scoundrel that she felt the freedom to do so? Did everyone see him as a lowly cur now? He threw back the entire contents of the glass, only registering after he swallowed that it was, indeed, the fine cognac from his father’s stash.
The familiar, discreet cough drew his attention.
“My lord? If you need nothing else?”
He did not turn to Fredericks. No doubt, disapproval still ruled his bushy eyebrows.
“No, Fredericks. That will be all.”
“Very well, my lord.”
There was no sound of movement. Nicholas was not surprised; it was inevitable. He could command an army, but he couldn’t seem to manage the staff. He sighed dramatically. “What is it, Fredericks?”
Fredericks took his time, a pregnant moment of silence, followed by that distinctive clearing of his throat. “Problems can be more easily sorted through in the light of day.” The old man hesitated before continuing. “The night, my lord, the night is what makes those problems worth working through. The night is for love.”
Nicholas stared at the fire. A few seconds later, the door tacitly closed.
