“I do care for you, Leah Lindsey.” He rose and wrapped his arm around her gently. “I know you don’t believe me, and it would be easier on us both were it not true, but I do. You care for me as well, and I’m inclined to think caring is a better foundation for marriage than many other emotions.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “Tell me about your dress.”
He was cozening her. With his affection and amiability, with reason, and with the sandalwood scent of him.
Leah told him about her dress anyway, reluctantly at first, but because she hadn’t had a new gown in ages, much less one designed to make her look her best, she grew enthusiastic in the telling. Then too, Nick’s big hands were tracing slow, warm patterns on her back, and then her neck. When she fell silent, he buried his hand in her hair, and urged her head against his chest, then just stood there, massaging her scalp while she closed her eyes and rested against him.
He explained to her that he wanted the wedding to be unassailably proper, unlike the wedding Frommer’s family had ignored after the fact. He went on to give her some of the details of the wedding contract, duly signed by the parties and witnessed by men of impeccable standing.
For a wife Nick wouldn’t permit to bear him children, he’d gone to a lot of bother in a short time—a minor consolation.
“You will be quite dashing tomorrow.” Leah smiled at the thought. “Knee breeches, and satin, and all the finery a gentleman is allowed.”
“I will attire myself as befits a man marrying his countess,” Nick said. “I don’t want to give you ammunition for regrets.”
“Regrets.” Leah ruminated on the word. “I don’t see myself as having regrets at this stage, Nicholas, more misgivings.”
“You think those are unusual?” He words were cautious, a man who sniffed a swamp on either side of a poorly lit trail but wasn’t about to back up.
“No, I suppose not. You?”
“I should tell you I have them,” Nick said, “so you won’t feel so alone with your doubts. In truth, I cannot admit to many, and none about you. You will be an outstanding Countess of Bellefonte, Leah, and my family will love you. Della and Ethan are much taken with you already, and Valentine has nearly offered to steal you from me.”
Honesty. He could cozen her with that too. “What doubts
“I worry what I offer won’t be enough for you.” His hand on her nape slowed. “I can keep you safe, I am confident of that. Wilton is a bully and unlikely to trouble himself with you once you’re under my protection. I saw my man of business this afternoon.”
“What mischief did you get up to with your man of business?” Leah asked, allowing his maladroit change of topic. Too much more of his honesty and she’d be back to doubting her ability to be his countess.
“We’ve sent to Italy to see about bringing little Charles home,” Nick said. “It will take weeks, of course, because the mails are slow and the weather uncertain, and there are documents needed all around, but the process is started.”
“Ah, Nicholas.” Leah buried her face against his shoulder. “And you wonder if you have appeal beyond your muscles, your charm, and your title.”
He hoisted her against his chest and sat, cuddling her in his lap. Leah looped her arms around his neck, giving her more to add to her list of the myriad ways he cozened and charmed. “Lady Della will be scandalized.”
“Hardly that. In fact, it was she who suggested you bide here again tonight.”
Leah pushed images of enormous, steamy tubs and rose-scented water from her mind. “She’ll chaperone, of course.”
Nick shook his head. “No, she will not. We’ll put your cloak on old Magda, pull the hood up, and bundle Magda into Grandmother’s coach after dinner, once it’s dark.”
“Who’s Magda?” Leah closed her eyes and felt the slow, soothing beat of Nick’s heart.
“My grandmother’s familiar below stairs. She’s been with my family since my father’s salad days. When I’m in town, Grandmother sends her here to spy on me and poach brandy from my cellar. The other servants love her stories about me, Grandmother, Bellefonte, and the rest.”
“A fairy godmother. Every prince needs one.”
“And she’s tall enough to pass for you,” Nick said, “and happy to perpetrate subterfuge if it means keeping my princess safe.”
Leah said nothing. The sound of his voice, the feel of his embrace, the soft, steady thump of his heart was enough to convince her she was safe.
“Sleep, lamb.” Nick’s lips feathered across her forehead as he gathered her more closely.
Leah let herself drift, never having had the adult experience of falling asleep in arms determined to keep her safe. It was dear, and reassuring, and at some point she would find it frustrating as well.
But not today. She simply didn’t have it in her to protest this luxury today.
“What do you think of this marriage?” Trenton asked his brother. For once Darius was actually sitting, not pacing around the library like a neurotic predator held too long behind the bars of a menagerie.
“I thank God for it,” Darius said, accepting a glass of brandy from Trent’s hand. “That was a very bad business in the park, Trent. If Reston hadn’t happened along, I hate to think what might have happened.”
Trent sipped his drink and took a place beside his brother on the sofa. “If it had been just you or me, or even you and me against five determined miscreants, I don’t think we would have fared as well.” The wording was intended as a sop to fraternal pride wherever it might arise.
“You can accept Reston as a brother-in-law?”
“Of course I can.” Trent’s lips curved up slightly. “He’s devious. Got Wilton to sign a marriage contract, then paid dear Papa off with his own gambling markers. Had the Marquis of Heathgate and one of old Moreland’s sons on hand to witness it, all legal and binding. Papa is still fuming and fretting and trying not to shout. I rather enjoyed it.”
Darius smiled as well. “That’s not devious. That’s sheer genius on Reston’s part. You have to respect a fellow who can orchestrate such doings on short notice.”
“Respect him, hell, I’d kiss him on the lips at Almack’s for what he’s doing for our sister.”
“Interesting offer. One hears many things about Reston, but not that particular penchant, and you a father of three.”
“Shut up, baby brother.” Trent paused to yawn and crack his neck. “Speaking of penchants, when will you stop keeping the company of sluts and gamblers?”
“There is gain to be had in such company,” Darius said, “and you of all people know I am motivated to garner coin when and where I can.” Trent fell silent upon that observation, considering his drink, his circumstances, and his little brother.
“Reston might be able to help.”
“It isn’t Reston’s problem,” Darius said, but without heat.
“Leah is our sister, but she’ll be his countess. I’d say that gives him an arguable interest in your situation.”
“So you’d make Reston privy to the things we perpetrated years ago and haven’t found a way to apprise her of since?”
Trent was silent a long time, feeling Darius shift beside him and tug off his boots. Well, good. It had been forever since Darius had spent more than an hour under Trent’s roof, and Trent missed him.
Worried about him.
“It’s like this, Dare.” Trent leaned his head back and set his drink aside. “I have to admit what a bloody relief it is to be out from under the guilt of failing Leah, and the strain of trying to convince myself I haven’t.”
