‘What d’ye mean, he would? He’s nice. Very courteous.’
‘Of course he is, but how much do you know about him?’
‘Well, I know that he’s experienced. Most men of his age are if they get half a chance. I expect Fergus Mel-rose is too. I dare say Lord John would marry me if I gave him a little more encouragement.’
Experienced was not the word Lady Charlotte would have chosen to describe the dubious charms of the Earl of Rufford—Lord John, as he was known to his acquaintances. ‘Then for heaven’s sake don’t give him any encouragement, love. Marry Sir Fergus. You’ll be on safer ground there.’
‘Thank you, but no. Stuck up in the wilds of Scotland with nothing but a clutch of bairns for company is not my idea of safer ground, Lotti.’
‘He’s comely,’ Lotti replied. ‘And wealthy. And intelligent. What more d’ye want?’
Nicola cast a reproachful glance at her sister-in-law before returning to her study of the moon. ‘Do you have a spare four hours?’ she said. Then, regretting the reply, she tried to put into words the essence of her objections while wondering if Lotti would be able to see what lay beneath them. ‘Lotti,’ she said, ‘I want to keep hold of my new life. That’s what I want. I’ve only just discovered how it feels to take control of my own affairs, to be secure in my own home, be my own mistress. Without a mother I’ve had to suffer the control of four men in different dosages. Then the strict family in York. Now I’ve chosen friends who like me for my own company, men who actually seek me and vie for my attention. That’s new, Lotti. I’m enjoying it. I could become addicted. Do you understand? I know George thinks they’re all after something more interesting than me, but that’s what I’ve always been told, never that I was worth seeking out for myself alone. Now I know different, and I can pick and choose, and I can stop a man’s friendship if he doesn’t come up to scratch. I’m turning the tables, Lotti.’ She laughed with excitement, not noticing how Lotti studied her carefully. ‘I shall go too fast for them and leave them behind. For the first time in my life I can call my own tune and have men dance to it, and if Fergus Melrose wants to join in, he’ll have to do the same. So it’s no use asking me about marriage, Lotti. I don’t know. I’m not interested. Ask me again in ten years.’
‘So you’re still a virgin?’
‘Yes, silly. Of course I am. What makes you think I’d give that away so soon?’ Furtively, one hand crept up to hitch the vee of her bodice by a notch and to hold it there as the moon smiled knowingly back at her.
As far as it went, the explanation would probably convince Lotti, though Nicola knew only too well how much more personal it was than that. It was to do with the prickly defence she had placed around that tender place deep inside, a place that Fergus Melrose had trampled over and must not be allowed to reach again. It was to do with their old immature relationship where he had been the one to call the tune and she had followed, blinded by the force of adoration.
Yet now there was a new and more disturbing element that made it hard for her to dismiss him as she would like to do, as she would have done to any man guilty of such advantage-taking. Fergus Melrose would not be pushed aside as other young hopefuls had been, and she would have to fight him tooth and nail to maintain her ground and to show him that he could never be a part of her life. Whatever reason he’d had for changing places with his brother and making love to her, Nicola understood that he did not mean to play by the rules.
Her night at her brother’s River House was anything but peaceful, despite the ministrations of her maids, the coolness of white linen sheets, the regular call of bells and the nightwatchman’s reassuring cry. From the first fierce invasion of his lips, she had been badly shaken, but the question that remained longer than all others was to do with his deceit. Would she have pushed herself away so soon if she had known it was Fergus instead of his fawning brother? ‘Damn you!’ she whispered to her pillow. ‘I’ll make you pay dearly for that.’
‘George, dearest?’ said Lady Charlotte to Lord Coldyngham that same night, slipping a bare arm through his.
He clamped it to his side, possessively. ‘The answer’s no. I’m too exhausted.’ His grin was poorly concealed.
‘Stop teasing,’ she chided. ‘It’s not that.’ Even now, he was still able to send shivers down her legs. ‘It’s something else.’
‘So if it’s not that, it must be money. How much?’
‘George, stop it!’ Charlotte pulled at her arm, laughing when George held on to it. ‘Listen to me seriously. You’ve got to get Nicola and Fergus together somehow. Are you hearing me?’
She had few clothes on; in the light of one candelabra, she glowed like a young girl, alluring and lissome. It was not likely that George was listening as he turned her in his arms and let his hands wander. ‘Well, that’s the general idea, my sweet, isn’t it?’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Come to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
‘George, she’s getting too friendly with Jonathan Carey. She believes he’ll marry her if she encourages him to.’
His hands stopped caressing. ‘Is that what she said? Carey doesn’t need any encouragement, from what I’ve heard.’
‘Yes, they’re close. It’s dangerous, love. She must marry Fergus. It’s the best way for her to be safe. You know how persistent men like Lord John can be. He’ll not be the only one, either.’ She would not have said as much to Nicola, but the problem was serious, for while it had been acceptable for her father to live alone at the Bishops-gate house whenever he needed to, it was not at all the same thing for Nicola to do so. Widowed, she could have got away with it, but Nicola had neither husband nor father nor family with her, and was therefore living outside a man’s rule. For her to entertain a stream of young men on the basis that she was merely exercising her independence was asking for trouble. An ungoverned and unprotected woman could very quickly be saddled with a reputation that would take some living down. Charlotte could not quite understand why Nicola didn’t seem to care.
‘Well, the trouble is, love,’ said George, ‘that my sister’s dislike goes so far back that Fergus is going to have a real battle on his hands now. They didn’t even look at each other this evening.’
‘She looked plenty at his brother, though. Was that to annoy Fergus, d’ye think?’
‘I’m sure of it. That’s been the least of her rude-nesses so far.’
‘Did you know she has a wound on her breast?’
‘A what?’ George frowned, turning her to face him.
‘I saw the top of it just below her chemise. She’s been fencing with the guards off again, I suppose. I do wish she wouldn’t. Can you not speak to her about it?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, positive. Why?’ George was used to keeping his thoughts to himself, but his wife knew him too well to be deceived. ‘You know something, don’t you? Tell me,’ she said.
‘There were two rapiers in the hall. I wondered what they were doing there at that time of the morning. Fergus picked them up and placed them against the wall. I thought that was a bit odd, too.’
‘God in heaven, George, what are you saying? That Fergus…and Nicola…?’
‘Fought. Before I got there. She’d not beat him at that. None of us could.’
‘Argh!’ Charlotte pulled herself out of George’s arms with a cry of despair and went to hold the carved post of the bed, leaning her fair head against the knotted curtains. ‘That puts him out of the running, then.’
‘Not at all,’ said George. ‘I know his ways.’
‘What?’ She turned angrily. ‘To wound a woman first before he…?’
‘Well, I don’t think he’s