A Matter of Principle (17 page)

“
You ever partake?”

“
I beg your pardon?” Nicolas stalled.

“
Whores, Hansen! You ever used ‘em?”

“
Or are you queer? You ain’t queer, are you?”

“
No!” Nicolas thundered.

“
No to whores?”

“
Or no to queer?”

Nicolas shook his head. “I am most assuredly not queer!”

“
So what about the whores?”

Nicolas shot Sydney a look. “There was a time after my first wife died that I sought comfort…”

“
I knew it! I knew you wasn’t queer!”

“
Do you still take comfort there?”

“
Hey, his wife’s here! He ain’t gonna answer that!”

“
My wife knows about my past,” Nicolas offered, but few listened.

“
Is that why she didn’t marry you until she was about to drop your brat?”

“
What?” Nicolas was stunned.

“
You anticipated the marriage, somewhat, didn’t you?” a refined voice asked.

“
My wife and I were married before our daughter was born,” he countered.

“
Barely!”

“
What was the hold, Hansen?”

“
She had an unfaithful husband. He needed to be found before a divorce could be procured,” Nicolas explained.

“
But not before her bed could be procured!”

Sydney turned crimson and began to rethink her presence here.

“
Did you find her in the brothel, Hansen?”

“
I read where she cozied up to the new madam!”

“
Was she reminiscing?” the refined voice asked. “Or advising?”

“
If you’re not elected, will you send her back to work?”

Nicolas pounded his palm on the closest table. “Silence!” he roared. His deep voice bounced from the walls and filled the room with his indignation.

“
Silence!” he bellowed a second time. “If you require straightforward answers, then shut the
helvete
up and listen to me!”

A roomful of eyes stared at him in silent, drop-jawed shock.

“
My first wife was dead six years when I met my second wife. That is a long time to be alone. I did seek comfort, I’ve already confessed to that. My second wife is a beautiful woman,” Nicolas indicated Sydney, who stood rigid and flushed in the back of the room, “and I pressed her to me before it was seemly. But when the way was cleared, we married in the church, and our daughter is quite legitimate.”

A murmur of consideration rippled through the room.

“
Now,” he continued, one brow lifted and navy eyes sweeping the room. “Are there any questions you wish to ask me which might actually pertain to my taking the office of Legislator?”

Chapter Thirteen

January 15, 1822

St. Louis

Sydney hated throwing up in the chamber pot. But oftentimes that was the only receptacle available. She emptied it before Nicolas saw, because she couldn’t let him know.

She wasn’t certain herself.

Her last course came on as usual, but stopped the next day. After that, she felt ill at unexpected moments, but not all the time. Though her breasts felt heavy, they were not unusually tender.

Sydney never expected to conceive a child again; if indeed she had. With her own brutal cycle so unpredictable, and Nicolas having been kicked so hard in the groin when he was arrested, she doubted they would ever be fertile again.

She did expect, without a whisper of misgiving, that Nicolas would not be pleased if she had.

Not pleased? He’d be livid.

So he must not know.

Not while he began his campaign. Not while he was finding his footing. Not while he was focused on his future. Not while he laid himself bare before the people of St. Louis County.

Sydney toweled her face and breathed deeply. She swallowed, her mouth dry and her throat sticky. Thankfully they would go home after tomorrow night, and she would remain there a while.

He must not even suspect. Until she could be certain.



“
May I have this dance, Madam?”

Lily turned to the slender redhead who spoke to her. His warm brown eyes burned into hers, and the edges of his mustache lifted with his smile. She tilted her head toward her husband.

“
Do you mind, dearest?” she warbled.

Sir Ezra’s eyes swept over the hopeful swain. “Not at all, my love. I believe he appears quite respectable. Enjoy yourself with my blessings.”

The code spoken and understood, Lily placed her gloved hand in the open palm of her suitor. She noted his long, slim fingers and neatly groomed nails. No lowly labor for this gentleman.

“
My name is Oscar Brant.” He dipped his chin.

“
Lady Lily Kensington.” She bent her knees in a slight curtsy.

“
My pleasure, Madam.”

She allowed him to lead her onto the floor and take her in his arms.

“
Have you met the candidate?” He glanced toward Nicolas, dancing nearby with Sydney.

“
I’ve only known him since childhood,” Lily dropped the nugget neatly.

“
Have you?” Oscar was duly impressed. “What’s he like?”

“
He’s intelligent enough when it comes to worldly things, I suppose.” Lily shrugged.

“
You strike me as rather cultured yourself, Lady Kensington.”

“
Well…” Lily fluttered her lashes. “I have not spent my entire life in Missouri, after all.”

“
And it shows, Madam.”

Oscar swirled her away in the waltz. She was caught up in the feel of his arms around her; stronger than her husband’s and a better fit than Nicolas, if she was honest with herself.

“
Has he spent his entire life in Missouri?” Oscar asked, watching Nicolas as he and Sydney danced past them. He blinked his gaze back to Lily.

She was caught in the russet, chocolate and tan streaks of his eyes. “Yes.”

“
That’s rather dull, don’t you think?”

“
No! I mean, yes, it would be dull, but no, he has spent time abroad.” Lily was flustered by Oscar’s muscular thighs pressing against hers.

“
Oh?”

“
He’s Norwegian. He went to Norway. Twice.”

Oscar’s hand slid from her back to just below her waist. He tightened his grip. “Twice?”

“
Yes. Once when he was nineteen.” She could feel his manhood against her hip. She swallowed, her throat inexplicably dry. “And then again for the last year.”

“
Would you care for a glass of wine?” Oscar steered Lily toward a servant with a tray. Lifting two glasses, he handed one to Lily. “Shall we sit?” He guided her to a small settle at the side of the dance floor. A large fern hid them from view.

“
Are your intentions honorable, Mister Brant?” Lily giggled, only halfway teasing.

“
Always, Lady Kensington.” He brushed her neck with his lips. His mustache tickled and sent shivers skating up her spine.

“
Have you been abroad?” Lily whispered.

“
Not yet,” he answered in kind. “But when I go, I cannot imagine going to a place like Norway. I’d prefer the Continent, proper.”

“
As would I.” Lily sipped her wine.

“
So what was Mister Hansen’s purpose?”

“
He’s royal.” Lily waved her hand dismissively.

“
What?” Oscar blurted the clipped question.

“
He’s the great-grandson of a king. There was some situation with Sweden gaining Norway after Napoleon, and the royal family wanting to reclaim the throne.”

“
And Nicolas Hansen might have been king?”

“
I suppose so.” Lily drained her wineglass and handed it to Oscar.

“
Did he want to be?”

Lily made a face. “Why else would he go? Might you get me another?”

“
It would be my pleasure, Lady.”

When Oscar returned, Lily slid farther behind the fern. She allowed Oscar’s hands to roam over her dress, and invited him to kiss her. His lukewarm kisses disappointed, however, and she wondered how quickly she might pass him off to someone else.



Sydney watched Lily slip behind the fern with a red-haired gentleman. Ever since Nicolas told her about Lily’s arrangement with Sir Ezra, she watched the younger woman flirt shamelessly, and disappear from gatherings for unseemly lengths of time. Sometimes, when she returned, Lily’s hair was changed, or her color high and lips swollen.

No one acknowledged her behavior, especially Sir Ezra. He smiled at her, offered her a glass of wine, and handed her off to another eager swain. Sydney wondered how long it would take Lily to accomplish her mission. Her hand dropped to her own belly.

Nicolas was called to the front of the room and asked to give an impromptu speech to the high-spirited crowd. He smiled, his navy eyes twinkling, and dipped his chin in a self-deprecating stance. At the applause—which grew around Vincent’s spot on the floor—Nicolas agreed. He launched into the short ‘spontaneous’ speech that he practiced in their apartment for most of the afternoon.

Sydney watched and listened, smiling at her amazing husband. His eyes landed on her often, and he seemed to talk only to her. She nodded and applauded at all the right times, encouraging, supporting. She did not even notice Lily beside her until she spoke.

“
I believe he is doing rather well.”

Sydney glanced at her, then back at Nicolas. “Yes, I believe he is.”

“
I have news.”

Sydney applauded Nicolas’s next point, grinning broadly. She did not want to hear whatever it was that Lily wanted to tell her. Maybe if she ignored her, Lily would go away.

Lily leaned close, her lips brushing Sydney’s hair.

“
I am with child,” she whispered.

Sydney froze. Her heart banged against her ribcage and her mouth went dry. The edges of her vision blurred.

“
Don’t you have anything to say?” Lily pressed. “Or perhaps to ask?”

“
Congratulations,” she said, both her voice and her countenance flat.

Lily leaned back and stared at her with a smug expression.

“
What else did you expect me to say, Lily?” Sydney glanced around for something to hold onto.

Lily lifted one white shoulder. “I thought you might be curious as to the father,” she taunted.

“
Your husband, of course.” Sydney felt the prickle of sweat on her skin, and an odd pressure inside her skull. She tried to work up enough spit to swallow.

Startled by the burst of sound around her, Sydney faced Nicolas and clapped again for his speech.

“
Oh, yes. Sir Ezra. Of course.” Lily walked behind her and spoke in her other ear. “Unless it suits my purposes to name another.”

“
You would not name Nicolas!” Sydney spoke over her shoulder, appalled.

“
Why not? It would be quite believable. We have been seen together. And besides,” Lily stepped around her and faced her again, “how can you be so sure that it isn’t Nicolas?”

“
Don’t be absurd!” she huffed.

“
Absurd? Well consider this: I know about every single time you leave the house to attend a birth, because Leif comes for Taycie.”

Sydney’s gut clenched. She grew oddly warm.

“
And,” Lily continued, “even if Nick wasn’t amenable to the idea, there are substances which can be administered to make a man unaware of his own actions.”

Vincent appeared at Sydney’s side. She felt the blood leave her head and was sure she would faint. Her breath came in bursts. Vincent took her elbow, but she wasn’t able to discern if he noticed. He spoke, his tone calm and compelling. “Come and be introduced, Sydney.”

Sydney’s gaze jerked to Nicolas. He stood at the front of the room, his hand out towards her, smiling with his teeth. But the concern in his eyes pierced her. Supported by Vincent’s grip, she moved toward her love, her reason.

“
My beautiful wife, Siobhan Sydney Bell Hansen!” His relief was obvious, even to her.

Sydney was lifted on the swell of applause. Nicolas pulled her to his side and turned her to face the crowd. She knew she was smiling. She nodded to the people and kept her eyes away from Lily. Nicolas’s arm slipped around her waist and he held her up.



Once the music began again, Oscar watched Lily dance away with another man. He sighed and shrugged. His attention went to Vincent.

The young man never lacked for a partner. What did he have that Oscar lacked? He wasn’t taller. He wasn’t better dressed. Oscar didn’t see him as more handsome. What was it?

Oscar selected a glass of wine and sat beside a window. His gaze moved intently from Vincent’s polished shoes to his thinning hair. Maybe it was his smile. Oscar noticed that Vincent looked purposefully into the eyes of his partners and smiled. It seemed to melt them.