Once Upon A Wedding Night (28 page)

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Authors: Sophie Jordan

BOOK: Once Upon A Wedding Night
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Nick was a worldly man. He should have foreseen this problem. After all, he was the one
insisting
she remarry. Yes, she would go to him and lay this dilemma at his feet. Certainly he would see that she could not go through with this marriage now.

Meredith returned Teddy's smile with a shaky one of her own and accepted his arm. As he escorted her into the drawing room, she told herself that her suddenly churning stomach had nothing to do with facing Nick again, that she only sought an audience, only needed to explain that she could not wed someone under a cloud of lies. She was sick to death of lies. No more.

Wanting Nick with every breath in her body had nothing whatsoever to do with her desire to see him again.

Chapter 18

 

The hired hack waited at the corner at half past eleven just as Meredith had instructed her maid to arrange. Her slippered feet carried her down the sidewalk in a combination of haste and caution. She tried to hurry, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Lady Der-ring's mansion, but the lack of visibility made her step cautiously. The fog hugged her like smoke and shrouded the hack from view until she nearly smacked into it. Its dark outline materialized suddenly, a slumbering beast lying in wait.

She paused to issue instructions to the driver before ascending unassisted into the coach. Devising an excuse to stay home had been relatively easy. Her complaint of a headache had been readily accepted as the others prepared for an evening out. In truth, Lady Derring's managing ways had subsided, at least in regard to her. All due to Teddy.

She'd had a momentary spurt of panic when Aunt Eleanor insisted on staying behind to take care of her. Fortunately, Lady Derring added her voice to Meredith's protests, saying she needed a good night's rest to cure her ails and Aunt Eleanor need not miss the musicale.

Pushing thoughts of her aunt and Lady Derring to the back of her mind, Meredith marveled at her boldness as the hack crawled sedately through the fog-filled streets of London. She knew that Nick resided at his gaming establishment, the Lucky Lady. She saw it as a fortuitous circumstance, increasing his availability. If he had not yet retired for the night, she need only wait for his appearance.

On the morrow she would be presented at court. After that she would depart for Cumberland, Lady Derring, Portia, and Aunt Eleanor in tow. If Lady Derring was to be relied upon, she would be betrothed at the end of the house party. She had to see Nick tonight.

The hack came to an abrupt halt, rocking her from side to side on the squabs. Steadying herself, she parted the curtains and peered out. The Lucky Lady stood before her, several stories high, lights blazing from its stone and oak facade. The structure resembled an Elizabethan playhouse of old, with Tudor style windows and heavy oak beams crisscrossing the front. It looked more like a grand home than a business. A smile touched her lips. It reminded her a little of Oak Run. Perhaps Nick missed his former home more than he knew.

"Getting out?" the driver barked from his perch.

She hopped down, fished a coin out of her reticule, and tossed it to him. The hack clattered away, leaving her alone. She pulled the hood of her black cloak over her head, her fingers luxuriating in the gray ermine fur trimming the edges. Another one of the elegant purchases Lady Derring had insisted upon. She gathered the folds of her cloak about her, self-conscious of the provocative gown beneath. Like most of her new gowns, the green silk exposed vast amounts of shoulders and cleavage.

Upon entering the Lucky Lady, she hovered uncertainly on the raised dais, not yet taking the Italian marble steps that descended into the large room abuzz with activity. Several heads lifted to note her arrival. Tables dotted the room, occupied by gentlemen—even the occasional woman. Whirring roulette wheels added their volume to the steady drone of conversation. Liveried servants wove about the room carrying gleaming silver trays laden with drinks, food, and cigars.

A woman seemed to be directing these servers, snapping her fingers at one footman, directing him to offer cigars to several gentlemen playing at a nearby table. She caught Meredith's notice primarily because of her unbelievably red hair, but also because of the air of ownership and authority about her. She was striking, despite her gaudy dress and hair. Meredith immediately wondered at her relationship with Nick. Was she an employee or more? Her air of command marked her as no one's servant.

Meredith's stomach heaved when she spotted a few familiar faces among the crowd. Until now she had not appreciated the fact that gentlemen of the
ton
—primarily gentlemen of her newfound acquaintance—frequented Nick's establishment. If recognized, she would be ruined, all hope for a match gone. Her chances with Lord Havernautt would be forever lost, despite his apparent attachment for her.

One face in particular stood out. Bertram, Portia's errant older brother, sat among the crowd. He lifted his head from his cards and took a fortifying drink from the glass in front of him. She clutched at her hood and staggered back several steps, her resolve crumbling. Suddenly, her adventure did not seem so thrilling—the need to talk with Nick not nearly that important. Not if it led to discovery and ruin.

Whirling around, her panicked retreat was brought to a swift halt when she smacked into another body.

A grunt of pain preceded a coarse, "Watch where the hell you're going."

"My pardon, sir, I'm terribly sorry."

The sight of a sneering, pockmarked face did little to soothe her already frayed nerves. "Bloody right you are." Pale eyes inspected her face and fine cloak with insulting thoroughness, as though she were a piece of horseflesh. "
A
right fine piece you are. Look like a regular lady. Talk like one too." Hard fingers took hold of her arm as he thrust his face closer to hers. "You already belong to someone, lovey?" His shifty eyes looked over her shoulder, as if to satisfy himself that she was indeed alone and unprotected. When he looked back to her, the glitter in his pale eyes chilled her to the bones. Thin lips stretched over an uneven row of rotting teeth. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be out alone. There's all kinds of danger for a girl without a protector. Why don't you come with ol' Skelly and let him look after you?"

She assured herself that he could not simply drag her off. Not in front of so many witnesses. Not if she protested. Not if she cried for help. She bit her lip in consternation, her quandary clear. Should she cry for help and alert everyone in the Lucky Lady to her presence, her identity? Certainly not. Surely she could handle this matter herself without creating a scene.

Skelly, as he had identified himself, began dragging her toward the front door. She dug her heels in and shook her head, striving for a calm she did not feel as the soles of her slippers slid with frightening speed along the marble floor.

"I'm waiting for someone," she hissed, still unwilling to draw attention to herself. "I'll thank you to release me so that I can make my own way."

"Any bloke keeping a fine piece like you waiting simply don't deserve you. I'll set you up like a princess. You won't have to lift a finger… just your skirts." He chortled, amused by his own quip.

She gasped. He could not be serious. Her reticence vanished at once. He almost had her to the door. Reputation be hanged. She could not allow this man to abduct her.

She spoke through gritted teeth, deciding to give him one last chance. "Release me."

His hold on her arm did not ease in the slightest. "Don't be skittish—"

She cocked back her arm. With her elbow pressed close to her side and her thumb tucked carefully under her fingers, as Nels had taught her, she jabbed him with her fist. She hardly noted the pain in her hand as her fist made contact with his face. The satisfaction in seeing blood spurt from his nose eclipsed all discomfort.

"Little bitch, you mashed my nose in." Even with his hands clutched over his nose, his muffled words were clear enough to understand. Blood seeped between his fingers in a steady stream of crimson. Instead of taking the opportunity to flee, she could only watch in fascinated horror at the damage she had wrought, looking back and forth between her fisted hand and his bleeding face.

"What's going on here?" The brassy, red-haired woman approached. Hands on her hips, she glared first at Meredith, then Skelly. "You know Nick told you not to step foot in here again." She jerked her head in Meredith's direction. "She one of your girls? Nick won't have you working over one of your girls in his place—"

"I am
not
one of his girls," Meredith inserted indignantly, having a good idea what that distinction implied. "He tried to force me to leave with him."

"That so?" The woman dipped her head to gain a better look at her shadowed features. "Well, looks like you handled him." She turned her attention back to Skelly, who was mopping at his face with a dingy-looking handkerchief. "If I were you, I would leave before Nick sees you."

"See who, Bess?"

Never had she experienced joy and dread simultaneously. Nick sauntered forward, looking splendid in a black jacket and silvery gray waistcoat. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. He was magnificent. More so than she remembered. Her face flushed. Dread reasserted itself. She was sure to receive a tongue-lashing as only he knew how to deliver for venturing out unescorted.

Hovering there, waiting for him to notice her, she realized how foolhardy her actions. Good Lord, look what nearly happened to her. Her breath trapped in her chest as she braced herself for the moment he recognized her.

"Skelly has taken to accosting our guests," Bess informed Nick.

"That's Mr. Fairbanks to you." Skelly patted his bloodied nose, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. "And I didn't accost anyone. That bitch hit me."

Once Upcjn a Wedding Night

Nick finally looked at her. The concern and sympathy ready for one of his patrons immediately vanished from his face.

"What in hell are you doing here?" he growled, taking a threatening step toward her.

"You know her?" Bess asked sharply, the arms crossed over her chest falling to her sides.

Nick ignored her question, either unaware of it or indifferent. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

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