The early morning sunrays filtered through the window and tickled Nick's nose as she woke the next morning. She stretched with a yawn, a large grin spreading over her face as she remembered the previous night. When Gabriel succumbed, he did so spectacularly. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the pleasure he'd bestowed on her. Beneath that honourable exterior lay a very wicked man indeed. Not that she minded. Not in the least. In fact, she wanted to see more of that side of him. A lot more.
Turning her head, she realised she was alone in bed. Gabriel had already left. She frowned as she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Did he already regret what had happened? Like every other time he had given in to their attraction, had he reverted to his boring, honourable self? This cat-and-mouse game was wearing on her. She had made a vow to stop chasing him. Last night he had finally been the one to take the first step, but he appeared to have regretted it already.
With a frustrated huff, she got out of bed and dressed. She was just putting the last few pins in her simple hairdo when Gabriel came through the door connecting their rooms. He was neatly dressed in a bottle-green jacket and tan breeches. Despite her worries, the sight of him instantly made her insides flutter to life. Heat travelled along her skin as her eyes fastened on his mouth, and she remembered exactly how skilled he was with it.
His eyes met hers. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're staring."
She flashed him a guilty smile as she pushed the last pin into her topknot. "I beg your pardon. I was thinking about last night."
"I—" He cleared his throat. "Last night was—"
"Amazing," she cut him off before he could say it was a mistake. She didn't want to hear it. Not yet.
The corners of his mouth twitched again. "Yes. Very much so." He sighed. "It—"
"It was a mistake and it will never happen again?" she supplied helpfully, her voice terse. "Yes. I've heard it before."
His eyes widened. He shook his head. "No." He took the steps separating them and cupped her face in his hands. "Nick. Last night was better than anything I could ever have imagined."
Exhilaration sped through her, even as she couldn't quite allow herself to hope for too much. "You certainly left the room quickly enough," she muttered.
With a gentle smile, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Only because I wanted to make sure they readied the carriage for us. We have a long day ahead of us. First visiting Wyndon and then continuing on to your estate."
"Oh." She had immediately assumed the worst. For once, being wrong wasn't all bad.
Bending down, he brushed his lips against hers, instantly rekindling her passion from the previous night. "Nick," he mumbled against her lips. "I wouldn't be so coarse as to leave you immediately after we had shared something like last night."
She smiled. "In my defence, you have run the opposite direction every time before."
He chuckled. "I deserved that." He kissed her again before straightening, his face growing more serious. "This is as far as we can go, though. I cannot risk anything further, no matter how tempting. I made a promise to Wortham that I would return you to London uncompromised, and I intend to keep it. Or I am certain he would happily assist your brother in shooting me."
"Most likely," she admitted, then added hopefully, "But we will keep kissing?"
In answer, he leaned down to capture her mouth in a fierce kiss that brought her blood boiling. Automatically, she moved towards him, and his arms embraced her, pulling her closer. His lips trailed ardent kisses down her neck as her fingers weaved into his hair.
"Honestly"—his lips tickled against her skin—"I don't know that I could resist any longer. Nor do I particularly want to. You, my dear, taste far too heavenly."
A gasp escaped her as he licked and teased a sensitive spot beneath her ear. The man really knew how to use his lips and tongue. It was rather unfair that he would not let her reciprocate the favour. Maybe that ought to be her new vow. Her thoughts scattered as he gently nipped at her neck, making her grip on his hair tighten.
Lifting his head, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. "We ought to leave," he said, his voice hoarse. "The carriage will be waiting, and we need to get to Wyndon's."
She nodded, but before she could move away from him, his lips were back on hers. She wasn't sure how long they kissed until he forced himself away from her with a groan. Putting his hands on her waist, he gently held her at arm's distance.
"This is why I've been trying to stay away from you," he muttered with a wry smile. "You are utterly addictive."
"I can live with that." She grinned, definitely liking the idea that he found her so difficult to resist.
"It's not you I am worried about," he growled, and after another quick kiss, he steered her towards the door. "To the carriage. Let's get this confrontation with Wyndon over with."
"Here we are," Nick said as she looked out of the carriage window. "Henry's estate."
They were coming around a bend where a squat mansion of moderate size sat like a fat frog at the bottom of a gravel road. It was simple and unassuming, its grounds a little unkempt, as if they didn't have enough gardeners to keep it in check. When they neared the house itself, it became more obvious that the earldom was in dire straits. The window panes desperately needed a lick of paint, and the trellis next to the entrance had overgrown to the point where the clinging ivy was overtaking the entire wall, covering a few of the windows completely.
As the carriage pulled up by the house, Gabriel noted broken steps leading up to the door. Wyndon's desperation made more sense now. It was no excuse for blackmail, but he could understand the issues the earl faced. After jumping out of the carriage, he assisted Nick, and together they knocked on the door, the brass door knock nearly coming loose in his hands. They waited. Shifting uncomfortably, he took a step back to look at the facade again. Was it abandoned?
He was just about to suggest they leave when an ageing butler opened the door, his livery clean but noticeably well-worn.
"Driscoll!" Nick burst out, and the small man's moustache twitched as he recognised her and his face split in an enormous smile.
"Oh, young Lady Nicola!" He bowed. "How pleasant to see you again. Are you here to see Lord Wyndon?"
"Please," she said. "I apologise for arriving unannounced. We are on our way to Holdenhurst Manor and on the spur of the moment decided to see Henry first."
"Oh, do not worry, my lady." The butler opened the door wider. "You are always welcome here. It is I who should apologise. My old legs don't move as quickly as they used to. You must have waited for an age."
Nick patted the old man's arm like he was an old friend and not someone else's butler. "Never worry about that, Driscoll. The weather is lovely, and I didn't mind spending another moment in the sun."
The butler chuckled as he shuffled down the hall, motioning for them to follow. "You are too kind, my lady. Too kind, indeed."
Gabriel held back a smile as he followed behind them, watching as Nick chatted amiably with the old man. It shouldn't have surprised him she'd befriended the old butler. She always saw the best in everyone and tried to help as best as she could from what he'd seen. It was obvious the old man loved her attention as well.
The inside of the house was slightly better than the outside, but there were still obvious signs of neglect. Most likely not for lack of attention, but lack of funds and staff. They didn't see another servant during their entire walk to the upstairs parlour, where the butler said Wyndon and his mother were spending the afternoon.
"Lady Wyndon is not well these days," the butler lamented. "It is a good thing the young lord's cousin has come to offer assistance. I fear it is needed."
"Has her condition deteriorated?" Nick asked, her voice kind.
"Unfortunately so." The butler sighed.
Gabriel wanted to ask what was the matter with Wyndon's mother but felt it wasn't his place. The butler might share more than usual with Nick, but he was an outsider and would not be so lucky.
"Who is this cousin?" Nick threw a look over her shoulder at Gabriel and he noted the apprehension in her expression. "I do not recall Wyndon ever mentioning one."
"Oh, I expect it is not a first cousin. He's been of much help, keeping our lady company while Lord Wyndon has been in London, but..." The butler's words faltered. "Excuse me. It is not my place."
Nick placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're all friends here, Driscoll. You know I would never speak ill of you."
The butler's already slow steps halted. After an uncertain glance towards Gabriel, who feigned interest in a painting hanging on the wall, the old man lowered his voice. "I do not like him, Lady Nicola. There is something about him, though I cannot put my finger on it..." His bony shoulders shuddered. "I do not know."
"Thank you, Driscoll. I won't tell anyone." Nick squeezed the old man's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.
A moment later, the butler opened a door and stepped inside. "My lord. My lady." He bowed to the people beyond the door that Gabriel could not see. "Lady Nicola has come to call. And her guest."
Her guest. Gabriel had to keep himself from chuckling. He'd been demoted to Nick's guest. Nick must have noticed too because she looked back and grinned at him before entering. He followed closely behind, his eyes moving around the room, taking everything in. Wyndon stood up from his chair, staring at Nick, shocked at her presence. An older woman with greying brown hair sat in the chair next to him, a blanket over her legs.
On the opposite side of the room, in a comfortable armchair, sat a tall, gangly man in a tan suit. He was not someone Gabriel had ever seen before. A quiet man with brown hair and a large, pointed nose. Must be the cousin.
"Nick!" Wyndon shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm on my way home and thought I'd stop by." She smiled effortlessly. "I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." The tense smile on his lips belied his words, and it didn't escape Gabriel's notice that he threw a cautious glance towards the cousin. Then he noticed Gabriel. "I see you brought Lord Winter."
"Of course." She shrugged. "I wanted to show him my estate."
"Who's there, George?" Lady Wyndon called from her chair.
George? Gabriel looked at the woman again. She hadn't moved from her spot, her spindly hands wringing the blanket over her legs.
Wyndon returned to his mother's side and crouched down before her. "Mother," he said calmly, putting emphasis on the word. "It is my friend, Lady Nicola Howerty. You might remember her from the summers she spent at Viscount Lyford's estate. We used to play together."
The older woman's pale blue eyes travelled over Nick's form, and a trembling smile broke free. "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Of course. I remember little Nicola! Such a good friend to our little Henry."
Nick moved up to the woman and curtsied before her. "I am so pleased to see you again, Lady Wyndon."
The woman looked behind Nick as if searching for someone. "Have you brought the little one? Henry would love to play with her again, I'm sure."
Gabriel's heart constricted. He'd seen this before. People who struggled to remain in the here and now, constantly getting confused and thinking they were in the past. It could be harrowing, not only for them but for their families as well. A newfound respect for Wyndon for keeping her comfortable at home instead of putting her in an asylum nudged away some of his dislike for the man.
"I'm Nicola," Nick said gently. "I've grown up."
Lady Wyndon's smile faltered for a moment before coming back. "Oh, naturally. Naturally. How silly of me. Please, sit. We will call for some tea and biscuits."
Having placed himself in such a position that he could see the entire room, Gabriel saw the butler nod by the door, taking the cue to fetch refreshments. The lanky man on the other side of the room stood and ambled over, clearing his throat as he came closer to the little group. Wyndon looked up, and a line appeared between his brows before he could smooth it out and present a neutral expression.
"Forgive me," he muttered as he stood with a last pat on his mother's hands. "Please allow me to introduce Monsieur Fontaine. My cousin."
Only years of hiding his true expressions saved Gabriel from staring outright. It was too much of a coincidence that Wyndon would have a French cousin. With everything going on, there was no chance in hell that wasn't a piece of their puzzle.
"Fontaine. Please meet Lady Nicola Howerty and Lord Gabriel Winter." Wyndon looked less than pleased to be making the introductions. In fact, he very much looked like he wished they had never arrived.
The stranger bowed. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." His accent was surprisingly good for a Frenchman, with only a hint of his origin tingeing the words.
"Louis is a wonderful man," Lady Wyndon gushed from her seat. "It has been so lovely to have company when George and Henry are both away."
"It has been my pleasure," Fontaine said with a smile towards her.
"And to think I didn't even know we had any French family!" She giggled girlishly, ignorant of the man's smile tensing.
Nick stepped in, smiling widely. "Oh, isn't it always such a pleasure to discover new family?" she said. "One can never have too much family!"
"Oh, that is so true." Lady Wyndon nodded happily.
An older lady, Gabriel suspected she might be the housekeeper, appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits, which she placed on a table by Lady Wyndon's chair. They all sat down in the scattered chairs, and Wyndon assisted his mother in serving everyone a cup of tea. Gabriel nodded his thanks as the other man handed him one before he looked over at the Frenchman.
"Monsieur Fontaine, how long have you been in England?" he asked conversationally.
The man's long nose twitched, and he took a moment to dunk a biscuit in his tea before answering. "Not too long. Some weeks."
"I must say your English is excellent. Your accent is barely discernible."
"Thank you." Fontaine dunked his biscuit again, and it crumbled into the teacup. With a huff, he put it aside. "I have been to England in the past. Visiting other family."
"Of course," Gabriel murmured. "Are you envisioning staying long?"
The Frenchman shrugged. "I will stay as long as is required." He nodded towards Lady Wyndon. "As long as I am needed."
"Such devotion to a relative must be commended." Gabriel took a sip of his tea.
"I am only too happy to assist my relatives." The man's blue eyes regarded him shrewdly. "I beg your pardon, I did not catch how you are related to Lady Nicola?"
A quick glance confirmed she was happily chatting with Lady Wyndon, whose smiled inferred she was loving the extra attention. Gabriel smiled blandly at the Frenchman. "She is my betrothed."
The other man's eyes narrowed as he turned his head to look at the others. "I was under the impression she would marry Lord Wyndon."
Gabriel froze, his teacup at his lips. Placing the cup back on the saucer, he kept his expression neutral. "Oh? I'm afraid she and I have a longstanding agreement," he lied. "We are to marry in the autumn."
Wyndon must have been listening in on their conversation because Gabriel could see his shoulders stiffen and his smile had lost its lustre.
"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," Fontaine mumbled, his brows drawn together in thought.
What exactly was going on here? A knot formed in his gut. Something was definitely off.
~~~~~~