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Chapter Thirty-Three
Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing toattempt.
—Shakespeare,Measure for Measure
“Would you careto explain,” Catherine began before he had fully closed his chamber door, “what that was about?”
She stood, immoveable, hands on her hips and brow furrowed, her eyes darkening to that rich forest green. “Why did you treat Fredericks so abominably? He is as worried for this family as you or I!”
God, she was beautiful when she was angry. He just wanted to take her to bed and forget everything. All of it. Daniel. Langdon. His father. Fredericks. Suddenly the weight of weariness settled. Surely not Fredericks.
“Let it go.” He did not want to share his suspicions until he was sure.
“No, I will not. It has been a trying night, but there is no need for the tone you took with Fredericks. I don’t understand why you did so, and feel I’m missing something. Your new position has not granted you permission to take leave of your manners nor to forget those who are loyal to you.”
Catherine was so accommodating, always wanting everyone to get along. But throw a bone in front of her, and she held on to it with all the tenaciousness of a terrier. It would be amusing were it not for the bloody mess they were in.
“Do you not find it odd that Fredericks did not come running when I shouted for him?Youheard me from up here. And if Nan knew what was going on this evening, you can bet Fredericks did too. We bloody well could have used his help. Where was he as we cared for Langdon?”
She let out a long sigh, her shoulders falling, a small smile lifting her ire. “Is that what that was all about? Fredericks wasn’t there when you needed help with your friend? He was with your father, Nicholas. No small task, that.” She stepped to him, cupping his cheek with her warm hand. “Langdon will be just fine.”
He stared at her, her eyes brightening as her indignation dissipated with concern for him.
“You are a good friend.” She stood on tippy-toe and kissed him tenderly.
He pulled her close, holding her to his chest, caressing her back. Where had Fredericks been tonight? He would have heard Nicholas shouting quite easily from Lord Woodfield’s suite. And, surely, his father would not have held Fredericks back from finding out what had happened. So clearly Fredericks had lied to Nicholas. Fredericks had not been with Nicholas’s father. The man was ever present, ever knowing. If he had been in the house the whole time, he would have been there to assist and to relay information back to Lord Woodfield.
“Langdon is worthy of my alliance” was all he said, grateful he was at least being truthful in that. He did not doubt Langdon’s trustworthiness. “Let’s retire for the night. We will think on things in the morning.” He rested his chin on her crown, still unwilling to bluntly share the fear that Fredericks was blackmailing him.
*
A shaft oflight snuck through the opening between the drapes, but Nicholas was hesitant to move. He had not taken Langdon’s advice. He’d undressed Catherine, enjoying revealing her delicious body inch by inch as he’d slowly discarded each item. Their lovemaking had not been prolonged, but it had been satisfying nonetheless—gentle and tender, it had been a balm for his ravaged soul. Exhausted, they’d fallen asleep, still joined.
He loved the weight of her head, and her hair splayed artlessly across his chest. The beam of light cut a swath across it, washing it to a fine claret. He lifted a strand of hair, then let it fall. It was difficult to believe this was real. She shifted, grumbling, but did not awaken. So many nights dreaming of her, and she was finally his.
His old room faced north, so he’d never awakened to the sun as a child. Dust danced in the air, a drifting, showery display. He’d never fancied himself to be whimsical, but he sure had been of late. It must be love. He laid a hand on Catherine’s head, holding her tight. If only it were just them. Thoughts of yesterday’s events crowded out the wistful longing. Someone was trying to undo this world, and he must stop him.
He could not believe Fredericks was at the heart of the blackmail. Yet where had the man disappeared to? He’d not been in the manse when Nicholas had returned. He was sure of it. Fredericks would have come to the kitchens. The old man had been visibly agitated when he’d stepped out of Lord Woodfield’s rooms. Fredericks was eternally unflappable. Something was definitely afoot. He also knew everything. Like Nan. Of that there was no doubt. Would he betray them? To what end? But if not him, who?
Langdon could find nothing about the maid, but she had certainly warned Nicholas. Was she making good on that threat? And what of Brownlee? He had been furious, taking no measures to hide his disgust. He, too, had intimated retribution. Both had received ridiculous sums for their audacity. Perhaps it had merely whet their appetites? Their? Not for the first time, he pondered the idea of collusion.
“Good morning.”
Her husky voice directed his attention elsewhere. He shifted, uncomfortable, reaching down to adjust himself. There was no time to linger with her this morning. She raised her head and peered at him through a skein of burgundy.
He smiled at her sloe-eyed look, finding her incredibly erotic in her morning stupor. He could take her now. Open the drapes wide and let the sun shine through fully. It would be a magical moment in the morning light. He reached down and squeezed his far-too-attentive member into submission. With luck, Thornwood would arrive this morning. Regardless, with or without him, Nicholas had a felon to snare.
He brushed her errant locks aside and rose up to kiss her forehead. “My sleeping beauty awakes.”
Her elbows planted on either side of his chest, she lifted her head, her lips tilting in the sweetest of smiles. “And are you my prince charming?”
The question unnerved him. There was no doubt he loved her, but could he promise her the happily ever after? Did he even believe one could exist?
“Is something more amiss?” She could always read him.
He traced a finger between her brows, circling gently, trying to relax her consternation. “I long to linger with you.” He kissed her nose. “Unfortunately, our problems have not been put to bed.”
Her worried look saddened him. After everything he’d put her through, all he wanted was to bring joy to her life. Before he could change his mind, he lifted her and set her aside with another quick kiss and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There could be no happy endings until this criminal was brought to justice.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked.
He took her hand in his. “Not yet. But I will. Do not concern yourself. I will.” He kissed her hand, looking at her with what he hoped was reassurance. He let go and strode to his dressing room.
The battles he’d fought on the continent seemed to pale in light of the one he now faced. This one was on home soil. Their families, their way of life—Catherine—were dependent on him to see this threat disarmed. Thornwood would know the legal repercussions of their brothers’ actions, but regardless, Nicholas would not stand idly by and see their families’ good reputations destroyed. Nor would he allow anyone to bleed them dry. For a blackmailer saw a well, not a bucket, and demanded to dip in endlessly. He poured a pitcher of water into the basin and splashed repeatedly, closing his eyes. The cold was bracing. After wiping his face, he stared into the mirror. This was no minor skirmish. He had to play it right. And he must win.
