“I’ve already admitted that I’m not bookish, like Lydia. But I never said you should feel free to believe me stupid. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
He was silent for some moments, careful of the increased congestion now that they were back within the confines of London.
She waited, trying not to hold her breath. Because his answer now would decide whether or not she would see him again. She knew that. She was sure he knew that.
“What I’m planning,” he said at last, “could perhaps prove minimally dangerous, I suppose. But at the moment, no, I’m in no danger at all. And, if the world has no reason to suspect me of anything, that slight chance of possible danger grows even smaller. Is that enough for you, Nicole?”
Was the man even listening to himself? He’d just dangled a secret in front of her, as well as the prospect of adventure. Did he really think she would be satisfied never knowing what he intended to do? Not that she’d ever know unless she agreed to his plan to use her to cover his intentions.
“Will you tell me when it’s over? This thing you’ll be doing that you don’t want anyone to suspect you of doing, that is.”
“When it’s over, Nicole, if I’m successful, yes, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. That’s only fair.”
“And if you’re unsuccessful?” she asked, her heart beating fast, as she was suddenly quite worried for his welfare, drat him. She wanted adventures, certainly. But both adventures and caring for someone else’s well-being had not been on her agenda. “What happens then?”
“I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “I haven’t considered failure.”
Her smile started small, and then spread into a wide grin. “I never do, either. Consider failure, that is. We’re very alike, my lord.”
“Lucas.”
“We’re very alike, Lucas,” she repeated, and then she sighed in some small contentment. “All right. Feel free to consider yourself my ardent, love-struck swain. Lydia will be delighted, if full of I-told-you-so’s, since she’s well aware that I have sworn to care for no man. Rafe and Charlotte will be glad to see me occupied with a suitable person and thus think I’ll stay out of trouble, even while I’m having my adventures. And, at the end of the thing, I get to know your secret. Is there anything else?”
“Just one thing. As a gentleman, and considering our friendship, I need to tell Rafe.”
Nicole rolled her eyes in exasperation. Did the man know nothing of the meaning of a secret? “Absolutely not. He won’t agree to any of it, for one thing. And if Rafe is to know why you want to do this, then I would have to insist on knowing what Rafe knows, or else you’d both have the advantage of me. Which, by the way, I would consider unconscionable.”
“He’s your brother and my friend. I can’t in good conscience deceive him.”
“Are you also going to tell him that I kissed you?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“But you’re a gentleman. You’re his friend. How can you not tell him?” Nicole felt sure she had the advantage now, and she eagerly pressed it.
Lucas’s answer deflated her immediately.
“All right. I believe I agree. I’ll tell him, saying that it was I who kissed you—to save your blushes, you understand—and Rafe will then announce our engagement in the morning newspapers.”
She looked at him, aghast. “You’re threatening me? After I agreed to help you?”
His laughter came and went quickly. “How interesting. You consider the prospect of marriage as a threat, Nicole? To anyone in general, or to me in particular?”
She put up her hands, waving them in front of her to scrub away his words. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’ve said yes, and now that I have you’re sorry you asked me, so you want to make me angry so that I’ll cry off. Well, I won’t do it. Run and tell Rafe about that stupid kiss if you feel some great crushing need for confession. It won’t be my nose he bloodies.”
He looked at her in what she hoped was at least a little bit of amazement. “I think I’ve just been completely backed into a corner, and by a girl at least eight years my junior. Deny it if you wish to, but you have a very clever and even devious mind, Nicole. Almost frighteningly so.”
“Yes, I probably do, but I believe my arguments are sound,” she said rather proudly, before remembering the last time she’d been clever in what she’d believed was a good cause, which had nearly ended up with her dead.
She’d promised herself then to be more careful, most especially of those she believed she could trust, those she could, yes, even believe she could control, as she’d thought she could control Mr. Hugh Hobart.
Did she trust Lucas? Yes, she had to admit that she did.
Could she control him?
No. She couldn’t even control herself when she was in his company.
Still, there was no turning back. Not now. The carrot he’d dangled in front of her face was too potentially delicious for her to ignore it. Freedom. Adventure. A secret.
“I don’t know how sound your arguments are, Nicole, but they seem at least to be better arguments than mine.”
“I’m very good at making the ridiculous sound sensible, at least to myself,” she admitted with a smile. “I practice.”
She hadn’t even realized that the curricle had turned into Grosvenor Square. He didn’t speak again until he’d set the foot brake and a footman ran to assist Nicole down from the seat.
Lucas put his hand on her forearm, holding her in place. “If I had any sense of self-preservation, I’d be running from you right now. But, for my sins, I think we’re agreed. Come along and let’s ask Fletcher and your sister if they’d care to attend the theater tonight. If we’re to convince the ton that I’m this love-struck fool I’ve proposed, we may as well get on with it.”
Nicole nodded as he let go of her arm and hopped down from the curricle, hastening around the vehicle to assist her to the flagway.
She put her hands on his shoulders as he cupped her waist, their eyes meeting as he slowly lowered her to the ground. She had to remind herself to breathe. “I’m not simply being nosy, you understand. Or wanting my own way, wanting my own fun. It’s…it’s more than that. I know you said you’re in little danger, but I’m worried about you. As…as your friend. Which makes me very angry with you for some reason.”
“I know,” he said quietly, his smile delighting her in ways she really didn’t wish to think about at the moment. He took hold of her right hand and lifted it to his lips. “Thank you.”
Did she blush? Her cheeks felt hot. But that was impossible; she never blushed. Lydia blushed. “Yes…yes, well…you’re welcome. And still infuriating,” she added when his smile grew and once again twisted her stomach into knots. “And now I’ll tell you that I had a lovely time and, if you have a shred of kindness in you, you will take yourself off so that I can go inside and attempt to figure out what happened between us today.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCAS READ THE FIRST LINE written by the Citizens for Justice out loud—“It is time, friends, to take up arms against an oppressive government determin’d to starve our children and screw honest men into the ground”—and then folded the broadsheet, handing it back to Fletcher.
“Yes, yes, thank you, I’ve read it. Several times. Quite depressing. She was going to give it to her brother the duke, but he was called away to his estate the morning after we dined