A Dangerous Game (16 page)

“May I have a word with you?” the marquess asked, glancing past Salvatore’s shoulder as though he expected someone else to be there.

Salvatore opened the door and motioned the older man in.

“I hope I am not keeping you from anything.” Simon glanced at the sheet of music, and Salvatore shook his head.

“I only just finished.” He motioned to a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Simon took the seat closest at hand, and Salvatore sat, wiping his ink-stained hands on a towel.

“You’ve been writing.”

Salvatore nodded, tossed the towel aside. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing his throat, Simon sat back in his chair and steepled his hands together. “I know who you are. I remember you as a child.”

A sense of foreboding came over Salvatore, and he quelled the rush of fear that came rising to the surface. “And I remember you.”

“You have the eyes of your father,” Simon said, brushing an imaginary string from his pants. “Just as Darian does.”

So it was out, and Salvatore felt relieved.

Almost.

Simon’s brows furrowed. “I do not pretend to know what my daughter’s life was like once I left. Nicolette’s mother told me she was pregnant, but I heard rumors that she had other lovers, and in years to come, when I could not sire a child with my wife, I came to the conclusion that Nicolette could not possibly be mine. When I saw her the other day, I felt taken back in time. She resembles her mother so very much, of course, except for her eyes, which—”

“Are yours,” Salvatore finished for him.

“Yes, indeed. Just like mine.” Simon pursed his lips together. “I have heard you have been instrumental in her life, and for that I owe you a deep gratitude.”

Salvatore’s stomach knotted. “You owe me nothing.”

Simon lifted a brow. “I have also heard you are a proud man, and I respect you for that.”

Salvatore leaned forward in his chair. “Let us put aside these niceties and get to the real reason you are here.”

Simon laughed under his breath, yet the humor did not seem to touch his eyes. “You saved my daughter’s life, and I will always be grateful to you for that. Your heroics have been told the past two nights in great detail. You took care of her then, just as you always have, but I am here to set you free of your obligation.”

The hairs on the back of Salvatore’s neck stood on end. He dreaded the words to come. He shifted in his chair. “I do not understand.”

Simon reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a note. He leaned forward, ready to hand it to Salvatore. “You have taken care of my daughter for long enough. It is now time for me to do my duty by her.”

“And you seek to pay me off, and expect me to disappear from her life?” Salvatore controlled his voice, though it took great effort.

Color crept into the marquess’s cheeks. “I will introduce her to society. She will have a sizeable dowry and marry well. She will want for nothing.”

The icy fingers of dread wrapped around Salvatore’s heart.

“I will not be bought, my lord.” He snatched the note from Simon’s hands, ripped it into shreds, and let the pieces fall to the floor. “I have loved her, and raised her, and you were not there...and yet you have the gall to sit before me, hand me a note, and think that I will disappear,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that?”

“I mean you no disrespect, Salvatore. You yourself would never have to work again. Name your price. I have the ability to give you anything.”

Salvatore took an unsteady breath. He only wanted one thing...and that was Nicolette.

“She has lived a life that is not conducive to debutantes.” The marquess actually sniffed. “She needs to behave as a young woman of good upbringing. She cannot travel about the world without a chaperone, living with a man to whom she is not married.”

“I will marry her then.”

Simon frowned. “Salvatore, what do you have to offer her?” He looked about the room. “You travel from place to place, staying with members of the aristocracy. In essence, singing for your supper. I ask what will you do when you are no longer the toast of London or Paris? What will you do when someone else comes along to take your place, as all entertainers are replaced. I say this not to hurt you, but to give you a chance at a life you deserve. I know the anger you have for your father. The hurt of being denied a father’s love is not something one gets over. Nicolette knows that hurt as well, and I am offering her what even you, Salvatore, cannot give her—the chance to have her father, and to be recognized as my daughter. The possibilities for her will be limitless.”

No!
The word screamed over and over in his mind, and yet he knew what Simon said was the truth. What could he give her? In time their popularity would fade and then what? He could teach music, as could she, but would life in a small cottage be enough? They had tasted what wealth and prestige could give. Could one be happy without it? One day they would have to find out.

Yet Nicolette had an escape. A chance at an amazing life.

She could live that life...forever.

“You brought her here to seduce your brother, Salvatore. I know that. The countess knows that. She has even asked me about you.” Simon laughed without mirth. “She tells me there is something about you that makes her uneasy, and I did not have the heart to tell her that you are her husband’s bastard child. That the only reason you came here was to see the marriage between Darian and Elizabeth not take place.” Simon bent over and scooped up the pieces of the note and placed them in his pocket. “I know, as do you, the state of Kedgwick’s finances. Release her, Salvatore. Give her a chance at the life that you were denied.” He pursed his lips together and stood. “I will draw up another note, one for considerably more money, and we will no longer speak of the matter. I wish you good luck with your life, young man.”

“Nicolette will not hear of it,” Salvatore said, coming to his feet. “She will choose me.”

“Nicolette need not know about our arrangement. I realize she feels indebted to you, but will you hold that over her head and forego the chance of her having a life she has only dreamed of? I think not, young man. I think you love her too much to deny her her birthright.”

Running a hand through his hair, Salvatore shook his head in disbelief. “You expect me to leave without saying a word to her?”

“I think it best. I know you have a close bond, one that I envy, to be quite honest. Darian has already been told about your scheme, and about your relation to him. He is furious and I’ve had to restrain him from calling you out. If he has his way, he will see you ruined. The only thing that keeps you here now is my intervention, and the love and loyalty my daughter feels for you.”

Salvatore did not even want to know how Darian had reacted to such news. In fact, he did not care about anything. His heart ached too much.

“I have already informed my valet and he will see to your bags. A carriage is awaiting you as we speak.” Simon took the steps that separated them and clapped him on the back.

Salvatore flinched.

“I give you my word that my daughter will be safe. I will do her no harm. Indeed, I shall spend the rest of my life making up for the past.”

Salvatore could not even move. He stared at Simon as he made his way to the door. The older man opened it, then stopped. “I am forever in your debt, Salvatore. If ever you need anything—anything at all, write to me...and I will see it done, but to be clear—you are never to see Nicolette again.”

The marquess closed the door, and Salvatore fell to his knees.

Chapter Fourteen

Nicolette’s appearance at dinner was met by a roaring round of applause. Feeling silly, and with cheeks burning, she made her way to the dinner table, while thanking those who gushed over her.

It seemed ridiculous to be the center of attention for almost getting oneself killed. She would as soon forget the entire matter, but her dinner guests were not about to let her. Tonight she sat with Darian to her right, and Simon Laurent to her left.

Her father pulled out her chair and she managed a smile for him. She did not know what to make of him, and his sudden interest in her life. She had learned to be wary of everyone, particularly men, from a very early age. Perhaps she had grown even more cynical with time.

She looked down the table, hoping to see Salvatore. He had not come back to her room this afternoon as promised, which was so out of character she’d been on edge since waking. Not seeing him amongst the now-familiar faces made her more than a little uneasy. Perhaps he slept? Lord knows he needed the rest. He had looked exhausted earlier.

Deciding that’s exactly where he was, she sat back and steadied herself to have her father as her dinner companion. She caught his wife’s eye, who sat diagonally across from her, talking to Lord Athenry, who seemed well into his cups already if the widow’s pained expression were to tell.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Simon said, a warm smile on his face.

She glanced his way. “Thank you, my lord.”

He winced, and she wondered if it was because of her formality. Certainly he did not think she would be so intimate as to call him Father.

That would never happen.

Henrietta smiled warmly. “We are so relieved to see you up and about. What a horrible accident.”

“Thank you, Lady Wellesley.”

The woman seemed genuine, and for that reason Nicolette felt a wave of guilt. Her mother would roll over in her grave if she knew her daughter actually was growing to like the very woman who had stolen the love of her life away.

Nicolette took a sip of tea and nearly choked on it as a hand stroked the side of her thigh.

Darian smiled at his fiancée who watched him from down the table. The poor woman. She had no idea her betrothed was such a cad and even now, while smiling at her, groped another beneath the table.

The day of her near-drowning Darian was supposed to come to Nicolette. Now that she had recovered and it was the end of the party, would he expect to meet up with her?

She nodded toward the footman across the room. He rushed forward and poured a dollop of wine into the glass. “To the rim please,” she said.

Darian laughed under his breath beside her. “That’s the spirit.”

She did not even glance in Simon’s direction. No doubt he would frown upon her drinking. Henrietta managed a tight smile and looked to her husband.

Nicolette lifted her glass, and almost dropped it when at her side, Simon tapped on his glass with a fork.

Silence filled the room as Simon stood.

“I’d like to make a toast. To my daughter, the Lady Nicolette Laurent, the most talent pianist in all of Europe.”

Gasps followed the declaration, and Nicolette could feel the blood drain from her face as she met Charlotte’s shocked smile.

“To Lady Nicolette!” Darian said, standing, pulling Nicolette up to join the others.

The guests raised their cups in toast. “To Lady Nicolette!”

The night had a surreal quality that even hours later did not dissipate. She still could not believe that Simon Laurent had publicly announced her as his daughter. Henrietta had tears of joy in her eyes as she hugged Nicolette to her and welcomed her to their family. “I want to be a mother to you,” the marchioness had said, and she seemed genuine. Having been denied a mother’s love, Nicolette had to admit the idea of having a mother in her life was tempting.

Where on earth was Salvatore? “Have you seen Salvatore?” she asked Charlotte while they were having tea with the other women in the drawing room.

Charlotte took a sip of her tea. “No, my dear. I have not, though I did miss his company tonight. He always seems to liven up the conversation. And he is awfully nice to look at.”

Nicolette smiled. “Indeed, he is.”

“He puts most men to shame, save for one.”

Nicolette knew Charlotte meant Darian.

As though sensing they were talking of her beau, Elizabeth took a seat nearby. “I must confess that Lord Wellesley’s declaration came as quite a surprise. I am still reeling from the news.”

How odd that in the space of a few hours she had gone from being looked down upon, to being accepted. “As am I,” Nicolette said, setting her tea down.

“You and I will be fast friends,” Elizabeth said, smiling prettily. “Perhaps you will marry a peer of the crown, and when our husbands are in Parliament, we can throw tea parties and visit the wonderful museums and galleries.”

Nicolette did not have the heart to tell Elizabeth that she should not waste her time hoping for something that would never happen. She would never marry a peer of the realm, and she had absolutely no inclination to stop playing music. “Perhaps,” she replied.

Charlotte used her gloved hand to brush away the powdered sugar that had fallen onto her skirts. “Elizabeth, tell me, where will you and Darian honeymoon?”

The woman’s cheeks turned bright red. “I would so love to visit New York, though Darian has told my mother that he believes a trip to Greece would do much for his disposition. It seems he is quite tired of the poor weather, and New York is not much better.”

“Salvatore and I rent a villa in Greece. A wonderful two-room home with dirt floors and sparse walls. The warm breeze flows in through the open windows, luring one to the gorgeous blue waters below.”

Elizabeth sighed. “How fortunate you are that you have seen so much in your short life.”

“Indeed, I am lucky. I’m even more fortunate since I was able to experience it with a dear friend.”

Charlotte patted her hand. “Well, you will have to take me to Greece one of these days. I would love to experience it as you have.”

Nicolette nodded. “I’d like that, too.”

Elizabeth glanced over at Henrietta. “You are so fortunate that Lady Wellesley has accepted you. Can you imagine learning that your husband has a child from another woman?”

“It must have been difficult for her,” Nicolette said, meaning it.

“Well, I’m certain if she had her own children, she would not be so forgiving,” Elizabeth said, reaching for a strawberry tart. “I doubt I would.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some women are good at heart,” Charlotte said in a cutting tone.

“Why did you not have children?” Elizabeth asked, biting into the tart, and getting crumbs all over her lap.

Charlotte shrugged. “My husband, bless his heart, already had children from his first marriage. He had no desire to have any more. He enjoyed traveling too much, and I never really cared to have children. I like my independence far too much. Yet, I suppose if the right man were to come along, I could easily change my mind.”

“And what about you?” Nicolette asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth choked on the tart. She sat it down, took a sip of tea before responding, “I would like oodles of children. Being an only child is a lonely existence. How I envied my friends who had sisters to play with.”

“I’ve no doubt Darian would be a good father,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly, setting the pastry down virtually untouched. Nicolette did not have to wonder what had caused the sudden loss of appetite.

The countess stood and cleared her throat. “Ladies, let us adjourn to the parlor where I have a surprise waiting for all of you.”

Charlotte took Nicolette by the hand, and they followed behind Elizabeth who walked beside her mother. They entered the parlor, where at the end of the room a large stage had been set. The women took their seats and the men quickly joined them. The large velvet curtain opened and a portly woman stood, dressed in Napoleon garb.

The guests roared, all but Nicolette, who wished she had been smart like Salvatore and slept through a comedy about the cocky French emperor. Her uneasiness continued as throughout the duration of the play, Nicolette could feel Darian watching her. She did not dare return his gaze, and kept her attention focused on the stage and the ridiculous play.

When at last the curtains closed, and the countess stood and announced Elizabeth would be playing the harp for them, Nicolette decided it was high time to bow out gracefully. She leaned toward Charlotte. “I am quite tired. I think I shall call it a night.”

Charlotte nodded. “You have done well hanging in this long. Would you like me to escort you?”

“No, I would not want you to miss Elizabeth’s performance.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Thank you for abandoning me,” she teased.

Nicolette squeezed her friend’s hand and made her way to the door, not making eye contact with anyone. She had made it to the hallway when someone grabbed her from behind.

Dread filled her. “Where are you off to?”

It was Darian, a charming smile on his face.

“It has been a long day,” she said, her heart pounding. “I fear I am too tired.”

“Come, Nicolette. It is your final night here. Stay.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I am still so tired from my accident.”

The chords of the harp called out from the drawing room. “You should return to hear Elizabeth.”

“I don’t want to. I want to be with you.” He reached out, and cupped her chin in his hand. “You are refusing me again.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I do not refuse you.”

His eyes lit up. “Then you will be waiting for me?”

She nodded. “Of course, my lord. I believe a warm bath and a chilled glass of wine will do me wonders.”