Lord Nick's Folly (16 page)

The drive to town was too slow. By the time they arrived, she was totally out of innocuous conversation, and her nerves were on the point of shattering. They drew up before Langley's none too soon.

"This is where I found my sketching paper." Lord Nicholas moved from his seat, holding out his hand for hers. "The fellow has a little of everything in here."

"Smaller towns are like that. Only in London do I fancy you can have a shop that has nothing but wallpaper. If there is an errand you wish to tend to, or something else you want to do, please feel free to go." Once he had set her down on the pavement, she edged from his side.

"Miss Herbert—are you trying to get rid of me?"

He assumed such a stricken expression Nympha didn't know whether she should laugh or assure him that
that
was the least of her desires. She gave him no reply to his bit of nonsense, which was no more than he deserved. They entered the shop to find Mr. Langley himself coming to serve them.

Nympha explained what her great-aunt wanted in the way of wallpapers. If she had hoped to perturb him, she failed, not even when she offered the room dimensions.

"I have just the paper. I am told it is much like a paper in a room at Chatsworth, Miss Herbert. Oriental is the very latest thing."

Nympha could hardly complain on any score as the paper was utterly gorgeous and precisely what she had envisioned, perhaps better. There were butterflies and birds flitting among the fantastic plants and flowers. It would definitely call for a book on oriental plants.

"The paper was hand painted in China. I was so fortunate to obtain it on my last trip to London. I had thought the Duke of Portland might like it." He cleared his throat, as though he wished to stress his client.

"Mrs. Coxmoor desires to have her bedroom papered as soon as is possible," Lord Nicholas declared in his most pretentious manner.

It worked. Mr. Langley assured them he would be there in the morning with the paper in hand.

"Are you always so forceful?" Nympha queried after the shop door closed behind them.

"When it is necessary. There are times when gentleness and soft persuasion are needed instead."

She chanced to glance up at him, only to encounter an expression that in a woman might be called wistful. Were men ever wistful? Her father never seemed to be, always a decided gentleman with strong opinions no one ventured to challenge.

"And when is that, may I ask?" she dared to inquire.

"I may explain to you in detail someday—but not at the moment while walking across the marketplace. Do you wish to return home immediately? Or will you join me in a cup of tea?"

"Tea would be lovely." Annie had been left behind again. It seemed that whenever Nympha went off with his lordship, he contrived for them to be alone. Or was it merely a happenstance?

They had the same room as before, and as before he saw to it that the door was left open. The rosy-cheeked maid who brought them the tray holding the teapot, cups, and all the other things necessary, flirted with his lordship in a shameful manner. Nympha longed to give her a poke and tell her to mind her business.

She poured out tea for him, handing it to him with care.

"You have been kept busy since you arrived," Lord Nicholas said. "Not a moment to yourself, if I make no mistake." He peered at her over the rim of his cup, and she was reminded of their last private tea here.

"I'd not have it any other way. I far prefer to be kept occupied. A daughter in the rectory has no idle moments, sir." Not that she wouldn't enjoy them; they merely never came her way.

"Harriet—my brother's wife—told me that you tend the sale of the exotic hens your mother raises. Is that true?"

"Mama raises them. I handle the sale of the eggs and keep her books. You would be amazed how many people there are who desire fancy fowl strutting about their chicken yard." She smiled at the memory of a few of those people.

"Clever girl." At her look of inquiry, he added, "To keep books and handle sales. It cannot be easy for you."

"Papa taught us our sums and numbers. I can write and calculate as well as anyone, I imagine."

"Good. You won't be cheated by a conniving shopkeeper in that event."

She bit into a crisp lemon biscuit. It crunched loudly in the silence of the room, sounding like bombarding rocks.

A door slammed. Conversation could be heard again. She glanced up and was thankful she had swallowed the last crumb. "Mr. Milburn, what a surprise."

"May I join you?" He tossed Lord Nicholas what Nympha thought was a challenging glower.

"By all means. I'll call for more tea."

"Do not bother, old man. I requested a mug of their fine home brew." He sauntered across the room to stand by their table. At a gesture from Nympha, he pulled out a chair and sat down.

"You were very certain of your welcome, old chap," Lord Nicholas countered.

"I knew our softhearted Miss Herbert would not deny me her company—even if you might wish me elsewhere." His smile bordered on smug.

Nympha again knew the feeling of being a bone about to become the contention between two dogs.

Nick watched the faint color creep across Nympha's cheeks. The color enhanced her already attractive complexion and brought a sparkle to her eyes.

When they first traveled north he had thought inviting her to join him was merely a kind gesture to a neighbor. As time went on, he had found himself drawn to her in many ways. She possessed a quick wit, a very nice figure, showed a kind heart to her great-aunt, and had quite captured his. He doubted if she had the slightest notion of how he felt. For one thing, she would believe he must look higher for a wife.

A wife. The very thought of marriage shook him, yet his brother had wed last year, and seemed very happy. Nick supposed that most men met that fate sooner or later. For some years he had kept the thought in the back of his mind, particularly when he'd attended balls or evening parties while in London. That was where one went to find a wife. One didn't search in the wilds of Nottinghamshire.

Money! He wished he had thought to ask for her hand before he knew she was to inherit a vast fortune. In any event if she fell in love with him, there should be no problem. But he wished he had told her before. Would she now believe he was after her eventual fortune? For that matter, could she fall in love with him? He had the idea that she would marry only for love.

"I was surprised to see the Coxmoor coach out behind. A special errand?" Milburn regarded Nympha, then Nick.

"Mrs. Coxmoor wanted some new wallpaper for her bedroom, and nothing would do but that it be found at once." Nick wondered if having a vast fortune made a person like that—wanting instant satisfaction. Yet the old girl was so agreeable that it was impossible to take umbrage at her requests.

Milburn focused his attention on Nympha again. "Have you indulged in a stop at Sherwood Forest? I fancy you must see the great oak under which Robin Hood is said to have met his merry men." He drank his ale as though he'd been in a desert.

"Yes," she replied, glancing at Nick, "I did see it. ‘Tis an amazing tree."

"And Friar Tuck's walk?"

"No, I didn't see that," she said slowly, as though she was recalling her insistence upon going right home.

"Someday you must allow me to show it to you. A very romantic walk, so I am told, with ferns and spreading trees over the walk to form an archway."

"It sounds nice," she replied politely.

Nick hoped Milburn noticed the lack of interest in her courteous answers. Drat it all, the fellow was fawning all over her, and he was dressed as fine as fivepence today. Nick wondered anew where Milburn had been spending his hours and how he financed his trip.

"I trust you are enjoying your time here in Mansfield, Milburn. You never did say if you have been able to visit with your . . . uncle, I believe it was?" Nick set his cup on the saucer and then leaned back to study the man he thought of as his opponent. Could he trip him up, confuse him?

"I had hoped to stay with him, but he has been quite ill. The doctor has advised that the house be kept quiet— so I may visit him for brief times, but that is all." Milburn spoke in a bland, subdued manner.

Nick cynically wondered just how genuine that long face Milburn pulled might be. His story remained the same.

"I am sorry your uncle is still ill," Nympha said. "No wonder you prefer to stay with my great-aunt. How long do you plan to be in this area?" Nympha ran her eyes over Milburn, quite as though she were assessing him.

Nick leaned forward to see what the fellow had to say.

"I really do not know," Milburn replied with seeming frankness. "You see, I could go, but since I am likely to be his heir as his son has disappeared, I feel it urgent for me to remain close by so in the event he fails further, or heaven forbid, dies, I'll be here."

"I can see where you are in a bit of a fix." Nick studied Milburn, and wondered if this was the means of his "coming into money" he had mentioned before. It would stand to reason that he would want to remain just in case he was wanted one way or the other. He wondered what had happened to the son.

"I appreciate your great-aunt's hospitality very much." Milburn bowed with exquisite courtesy.

Nick took out his watch to check the time. "I fear we had better return to the Hall. We will just have time to change before dinner. You will excuse us, Milburn?"

"Aye. I'll be right behind you."

* * * *

That evening was a strain as far as Nympha was concerned. The two gentlemen seemed to vie for her attention, in a mannerly way, to be sure. But she
was
coming to feel being the object of rivalry unpleasant.

Her great-aunt sat on her favored sofa, garbed in another of her silvery gray gowns, and looked as though she watched a raree-show, her eyes sparkling.

When Nympha had quite enough of it all, she rose with the intent of fleeing to her room.

She paused by the doorway to address her great-aunt. "Do not forget they will come to paper your bedroom in the morning."

"I intend to visit a neighbor. What shall you do, my dear?"

"Mrs. Rankin may require me for a fitting."

Mr. Milburn gave what Nympha thought was a very sly grin. "What say we have a few games of skill on the morrow. Nick?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Nympha had not heard his lordship called Nick before, and thought it suited him, but wondered if he appreciated having Milburn call him by so familiar an address.

"Another match of archery. I noticed there is a setup for quoits and a lane for a game of bowls. Or tennis again. Pity there aren't enough for us to have a game of cricket."

"I notice you didn't mention a fistfight." Lord Nicholas propped his chin on his hand, leaning on the arm of the wingback chair in which he lounged.

"I do enjoy a bit of sport, but you forget—I have seen you spar at Gentleman Jackson's. I wish to survive a bit longer, my lord."

Lord Nicholas raised a polite eyebrow at that bit of flattery. "It's a shame we've no golf links nearby. I think I could beat you on the seventh green."

Mr. Milburn paled, muttered something about retiring early, and shortly left the room.

Nympha had made the connection. "Was that quite wise, my lord? He is bound to assume you know
more
than you do. There is no way you could pin the blame on Mr. Milburn. Is there? Was that merely a wild guess because I said I had seen him talking to that man?"

"Yes," Lord Nicholas admitted. "But I must say his reaction was curious, was it not?" He rose from the chair where he had been chatting with Mrs. Coxmoor and crossed to where Nympha stood, irresolute and curious.

"Will you play those games tomorrow, sir?"

"Perhaps. At the moment, I wish to escort you upstairs to your room. I believe we all need an early night."

Mrs. Coxmoor rose to follow them, murmuring something about telling Foley to let in that paperhanger when he arrived in the morning. "Goodness knows what time he will arrive—some ungodly hour, I am sure."

"Well, it is what you wanted, after all. Perhaps he will make short work of the job," Nympha said.

"He'd better, or he will not work here again!"

"She is rather determined, I think. But delightful, nonetheless," Nympha murmured to Lord Nicholas once they had quit the room.

They made short work of the stairs and were at Nympha's door before she wished.

His lazy smile should have warned her. It didn't. He bent to gently take her lips captive in a kiss that would give her enchanting dreams all the night.

She gave him a misty smile before fumbling with the doorknob. She slipped inside to float to her looking glass, amazed she looked just the same when inwardly she was so transformed.

* * * *

Mr. Langley and his minions arrived as Nympha left the breakfast room. Rolls of paper and a large pot of paste, plus assorted other items went sailing past her up the stairs toward her great-aunt's bedroom in the arms of the workmen. Mr. Langley informed them that he had personally come to supervise the work.

"I do not believe it," Great-Aunt Letitia muttered. "I lose my wager."

"Since we did not actually wager anything, as far as I can see you are in the clear." Nympha offered a cheerful smile to her irrepressible great-aunt.

Nympha decided to go with the men on their games. She would watch, taking care to be out of the way of stray balls and the like. Not that she actually thought she could be hit again. Surely that previous time was a chance thing?

She was standing in the entry hall when there was a knock at the front door. Foley promptly went to open it, revealing two ladies and a gentleman, all young, and all in the latest mode of dress. One woman was a petite brunette, the other a slightly taller brunette. Both were remarkably polished. The gentleman bore all the earmarks of a dandy, with shirt points so high and sharp Nympha marveled he hadn't stabbed himself. They all held themselves with the sort of assurance that comes with wealth and a title.

Nympha was extremely thankful she had donned the new lilac-sprigged muslin dress this morning.