Pretty Poison (15 page)

“Miss Calvert is frightfully well-learned,” Lucinda added as she joined them, Veronica trailing behind her.

“Frightfully,” Veronica purred, her eyes shooting daggers at the circle of young ladies.

“Hello, Miss O,” Bernice greeted her with a wide smile. “How odd to find you here. I thought you’d finally brought Lord Almsey up to scratch. Oh, of course, I’d forgotten Miss Lumberton whisked the poor man right out of your arms.”

“She’s Lady Almsey now,” Lucinda added helpfully.

“So she is,” Bernice replied.

“Lord Almsey is a bore,” Veronica announced with a half-smile that might be mistaken for a sneer. “I’m afraid his chubby little wife will find herself quite lonely in her bed, what with Almsey running around all night with His Grace. Oh, so sorry, I’d quite forgotten the Duke of Martindale is your brother. How sad he’ll likely never have an heir to carry on the name.”

Emily sucked in a shocked breath as the implication of Veronica’s words registered.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Bernice cooed. “But one would surely think that after…what is it now? Three gentlemen who have rejected your advances? Surely they can’t all be in pursuit of male company? Why, to hear you tell it, the
ton
is just infested with jolly gentlemen.”

“And to what do we owe your sudden appearance in our midst?” Veronica asked icily. “Have you finally admitted to yourself what the rest of us have always known?”

Bernice laughed softly, but made no reply.

Veronica turned her cold gaze on Emily. “Did you know, Miss Calvert, that Bernice has been panting after a man for four long years and he still refuses to marry her? No, how could you, being from the wilds of America. She’s become quite the fodder for gossip. If you think
The Sleeping Wraith
is a terrible moniker with which to live, you don’t want to know what the papers have named Lady Bernice.”

“No, I don’t,” Emily replied in horror. These were the proper English ladies her aunt wished she would emulate? These waspish women were Nicholas’ choices? Good God, she’d best marry the man, if for no other reason than to save him from their vicious tongues.

“
The Untouchable
,” Bernice supplied. “They call me
The Untouchable
. As in Lord Jamison wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole and neither will any other gentleman as I’ve sullied my good name chasing after a man who is not only beneath me but unwilling to wed me.”

There was unmistakable pain in the lady’s voice, but she held her head up, held a soft smile upon her lips, even as her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“But that’s dreadful,” Emily whispered.

“The name or the unfortunate state of her marriage prospects?” Veronica asked.

“Both, I suppose,” Emily replied.

“Before you get to feeling teary eyed for Bernice, you might remember why she is here,” Veronica said, the first authentic smile Emily had yet to see on her face. “She’s joined the race for the viscount’s son. And what a wonderfully entertaining spectacle this dull house party has suddenly become. I dare say Bernice will give you a run for your money.”

“Oh, no,” Emily replied with a strangled laugh. “I’ve no desire to cast my lot in with the rest of you. I believe this is one race I’ll watch from the boxes.”

“Oh, so you intend to keep to your current strategy,” Veronica replied with an appreciative nod. “I must admit that I wish I’d thought to play the part of the reluctant lady. Mr. Avery is simply eating it up.”

“I’m not joining the race either,” Adelaide replied.

“No, you’ve set your sights elsewhere,” Veronica agreed.

“I have also decided to forego the prize,” Lucinda exclaimed, laughing happily. “Mr. Avery would make an uncomfortable husband, I think. I’ve decided to try the marriage mart again next season. Fifth time is the charm, I’ve heard.”

“So, that leaves you and me,” Veronica said to Bernice, her voice silky. “To the victor go the spoils.”

Four pairs of eyes watched Veronica Ogilvie wander away to join Lady Margaret and Viscount Talbot who stood looking through the music on the grand piano in the corner.

“Have you really no wish to marry Nicholas?” Bernice asked.

“I’ll be going home in the spring.” Emily wondered if the other lady heard the doubt in her voice.

“What a shame,” Bernice replied thoughtfully. “I hadn’t actually intended to try to attach Nicholas to me, but I simply cannot allow that she-cat to get her claws into him.”

“Because you cannot stand for her to beat you?” Emily asked. “Or to save Nicholas?”

“Oh, posh,” she replied with a throaty laugh. “Nicholas is a big boy, he can take care of himself. No, I would rather eat dirt than allow Veronica Ogilvie to best me.”

“Oh, dear,” Lucinda murmured.

“Now, Bernice,” Adelaide said, laying a cautionary hand upon the lady’s arm. “You are not going to allow yourself to become betrothed to Mr. Avery simply to best Ronnie.”

“No?” she asked, and up went that dark brow again. “Just watch me.”

Chapter Seventeen

Nick was developing a crick in his neck from constantly turning his head right and left. Margaret had placed him between Bernice and Emily at every meal and he was damned tired of dividing his attentions between the former who seemed to have developed a sudden interest in him and the latter who pretended no interest at all.

Bernice was turning out to be just one more complication in a long line of complications, corralling him as soon as he entered a room and remaining by his side until he finally found some polite way to extricate himself to go in search of his intended bride.

Nick invariably found Emily sitting with Lucinda Davis or Adelaide Sanderson in some corner laughing and talking about God knows what. She would look up at him with the strangest expression in her eyes. He wasn’t certain if it was surprise that he’d left the apparently enamored Bernice to seek her company or confusion as to why.

He thought he’d been successful at reminding Emily that she was his first choice, his only choice for a bride. He’d risen early every morning to ride with her. He’d taken advantage of every opportunity that presented itself, and invented some damn creative ones, to pull her into empty rooms, dark corners, and shady woods to kiss her, to whisper of his desire, to show her how she tempted him.

He imagined it was only going to get worse in the coming days. It wasn’t enough that he had Bernice hovering around him so that he could barely take a step without bumping into her. It wasn’t enough that Emily continued to insist that he must cease kissing her and concentrate on finding a wife. It wasn’t enough that he’d found Veronica loitering alone in the hall outside his bedroom door this morning.

No, if all of that wasn’t enough to make Nick howl in frustration, two more ladies were due to arrive today, two more ladies with healthy inheritances and a desire to land a viscount’s son.

Nick marched into Lady Margaret’s study without knocking to find her sitting on his father’s lap in a chair by the fire.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock?” Margaret asked with a laugh.

“My mother taught me any number of things which your mother must have neglected to teach you,” Nick replied viciously.

“Nicholas Edward!” his father roared.

“Such as?” Lady Margaret demanded as she tried to rise to her feet. His father held her on his lap with his muscular arms wrapped around her waist.

“Ah hell, I’m sorry,” Nick replied with a frustrated groan as he fell into the matching chair beside them.

“Is my niece still claiming she won’t marry you?” Margaret asked, settling against her lover’s chest once more. “Did you think Emily would just give over like that?” She snapped her fingers, the sound inordinately loud.

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m exhausted. Bernice is draped about me from morning till night. Was that your idea? Do you think to drive Emily into my arms by introducing a rival?”

“As much as I’d like to lay claim to that sort of strategic planning,” Margaret replied wistfully, “I am but a simple woman.”

Nick laughed in spite of his weary frustration.

“And I wasn’t aware Emily needed to be driven into your arms,” Margaret continued with a wink. “It seems to me that every time you manage to elude Lady Bernice I see you pulling my niece into empty chambers, behind hedges and didn’t I see the two of you disappear into the pantry only this morning?”

Nick rubbed a hand over his face, dug his fingers into his eye sockets. “And still she insists she will be returning home in the spring.”

“Well, if Emily won’t have you…” his father’s words were punctuated with a grunt as Margaret’s elbow connected with his solar plexus. “Damn it, woman, you’re like to kill a man with your bony elbow!”

“Oh, she’ll have me,” Nick growled. “She just hasn’t realized it yet.”

“What a muddle,” Margaret murmured and Nick groaned at the thoughtful look in her eyes. “We may have to alter our strategy, add a bit of frosting to the cake.”

“No, please,” Nick retorted. “I’m losing my mind as it is. If you go adding to my already troubled state, I’m likely to make a run for the bin.”

“The bin?” his father asked in confusion.

“The loony bin,” Margaret explained with a tinkling little laugh. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

“What?” Nick asked.

“You’re starting to sound like my niece,” she replied. “I noticed at dinner last night that the two of you are beginning to finish each other’s sentences.”

Nick had noticed the same thing and considered it a symptom of the strain he was under that it made him exceedingly happy, knowing how Emily thought. Emily knowing how he thought.

“Bitten, is he, my pretty pigeon?” his father asked.

“Smitten, my dear,” Margaret corrected.

“I’d have to agree with Father. I’ve been bitten by some buzzing insect. I’m quite certain I am feverish and delirious.”

“You’re no such thing,” Margaret said. “Perhaps seduction is the way to proceed.”

“Emily told me herself she would not be forced to marry me even if I compromised her,” Nick replied.

“Who said anything about forcing her? Or compromising her for that matter?”

“Trust me when I tell you I have seduced Emily as far as I can without compromising her.”

“A few paltry kisses,” Margaret replied airily.

“There is nothing in the least paltry about the kisses I have shared with your niece,” Nick assured her.

“So you say. Your kisses haven’t changed Emily’s mind yet, have they?” Margaret responded.

“Now Margaret,” his father grumbled. “Best not to impugn the boy’s kissing talents.”

“I’m sure he’s a wonderful kisser. He’s your son, after all,” Margaret soothed.

“Just so,” his father replied.

“My point is that Emily would only be compromised if she were found out, if she was discovered in your bed, or you were discovered in hers,” she explained.

“Or if she decides to marry and the poor sap discovers he wasn’t the first upon their wedding night,” Nick pointed out.

“If she doesn’t marry you, she won’t marry at all.” Margaret’s spoke the soft words as if they were a certainty. “She’ll journey home with a heart full of regrets and a mind full of what ifs. She’ll tell herself she made the right decision, that you would not have loved her, would not have been true. She’ll wrap that rationalization around her shoulders like a warm shawl and throw herself into the raising of her brother and sister and into the running of Charlie’s stables until one day she’ll wake up and realize it’s too late, that she’s a lonely old woman who let a good man slip through her fingers.”

“Lord above, my lady bird, what a maudlin tale,” his father whispered.

“So, Nicholas, are you up to the challenge of saving a damsel in distress?” she asked.

“Yes,” Nick answered softly.

“If Emily hasn’t been swayed by your kisses or the possibility of Lady Bernice stealing you away, you’ll have to seduce the girl. And you’d better make it good, Nicholas.”

Nick only stared at Margaret in surprise.

“What?” she demanded. “Silly young ladies are forever confusing a good rogering for true love. No reason to suspect Emily will be any different.”

“Just so,” his father agreed with a hearty chuckle. “It’s how I landed you all those years ago!”

“So you did, love, so you did,” Margaret agreed happily before turning back to the subject at hand. “We’ve a storm blowing in to hear Her Grace tell it. Let’s hope Miss Endicott and Lady Dillon and the others arrive ahead of the snow. With any luck we’ll be house bound for days. Then we’ll see how things shake up.”

“What others?” Nick asked in alarm. “For Christ’s sake, I can only manage so many ladies on my own.”

“Which is precisely why I’ve invited the rest.”

“Who’s coming, dove?” Viscount Talbot asked.

“Lady Dillon’s brother, James Kildare. He was born on the wrong side, but they are quite devoted to one another. He’s a solicitor, just beginning to make a name for himself. He has no fortune, but as Lord Kildare’s acknowledged son all doors are open to him.”

“Poor bastard,” his father replied with a hearty laugh.

Nicholas chuckled at the obvious joke so typical of his dear old dad.

Margaret patted her love on his cheek before saying, “We’ll see if the Nasty Baggage can resist Mr. Kildare.”

Nicholas sighed at the mere possibility that Veronica might turn her cold eyes toward the unsuspecting solicitor

“And Mr. Endicott, Mary Endicott’s father,” Margaret continued. “He’s a widower, the second son of the Earl of Shrewsbury. He’s a young man still. Just past forty I think, and a fine specimen of scholarly masculinity. A gentleman and a gentle man.”

“For Miss Davis,” his father explained. “She’s such a happy sweet girl, that one. She needs a kind man to have a care of her.”

“Precisely. And just to muddy the waters, I’ve invited Lord Jamison and his cousins.”

“Jamison?” Nick laughed at her audacity. “And the Parker brothers? Oh, this should be interesting.”

“I like Parker One, and I can tolerate Two. Those two young bucks are exactly what this party has been lacking.”

“And Jamison?” Nick asked. “Is Lady Bernice aware you’ve invited him?”

“She’ll know soon enough,” Margaret replied. “If the lady is as smart as I think she is, she’ll keep her gaze firmly on you and give Jamison something to think about.”

“And you expect me to somehow seduce Emily in a house full of snow-bound people?”

“Did I forget to mention the connecting door?” she asked with a sly grin. “Your bed chamber and Emily’s were once a suite of rooms. They’re still connected through the dressing rooms. I’ve only to unlock the door between them.”

“Thinks of everything, my pretty porcupine does,” his father said.

“So she does,” Nicholas agreed.

Margaret smiled at him before turning to the Viscount. “Andy, my darling, I must have a word with Nicholas alone.”

“Of course, precious one.”

Margaret waited until Viscount Talbot had closed the door behind him. “Before we go any further, there is one other thing I must tell you.”

“This sounds ominous.”

“Oh, it is. Should you be successful in winning my niece’s hand, you will remain faithful to her for all the days of your life.”

“Of course,” Nick agreed without hesitation.

Margaret continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If you think there is even the remotest possibility that you will be unable cleave only unto Emily, say so now and I will send out letters far and wide to every heiress in the country, and the continent as well, and spend every last shilling I possess to provide you with a ballroom fool of potential brides to choose from.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have always intended to be a faithful husband.”

“I never thought otherwise,” she replied. “But understand this, if you ever take another woman to your bed, if you shame and humiliate Emily in that fashion even once, Nicholas Edward Avery, I will slice off your bollocks with a rusty knife and toss them into the Thames.”