Regency Mischief (37 page)

Lottie did not know and she was too afraid to ask, because she did not wish to know the answer. She realised that Nicolas had fallen asleep as he lay by her side, his face buried in her hair. She moved it from his face, leaning up on her elbow to watch as he slept, thinking how peaceful he seemed…so much younger in sleep than he ever was awake.

She touched his cheek lightly so as not to wake him, her heart aching. He had loved her tenderly and she was
grateful for his care of her, but was she more to him than a fleeting pleasure? He had wanted her badly but without love how long did physical attraction last?

She must not torture herself this way. Lottie snuggled closer to him, shutting her eyes. She must accept what he gave and not think of tomorrow.

In the days that followed, Lottie clung determinedly to the promise she had made herself. There was always a smile on her face when Nicolas looked at her or touched her. She took pleasure in everything they did: riding, walking, playing cards, reading aloud from their favourite books, and music. Lottie was proficient at playing the pianoforte, but Nicolas had a rare talent. When he played he became wrapped up in the music, an absorbed faraway look in his eyes, as though the music carried him to a world of his own.

‘That was wonderful,’ she said when he played for her the first time. It was evening and they had sat over their meal and wine until the light faded from the sky. ‘I had no idea you were so talented. I have never heard you play before?’

‘I seldom do—especially when anyone else is staying. When I am alone I sometimes play for an hour at a time. I do not subject others to a display of my indulgence.’

‘I am sure they would take pleasure in your playing, as I do, Nicolas.’

‘Would they?’ His eyes had that strange haunted look she had seen before. ‘I think you are different, Lottie. You are more generous and kinder than some ladies.’

Lottie had not known how to answer him. Had he
really no idea how talented he was? She merely smiled and shook her head.

She was painting a portrait of him. She had begun the sketch when they sat together in a wild meadow, and he lay back with his eyes closed, his face to the warmth of the sun. Since then she had made sketches of Nicolas in almost every pose and now she was painting a head-and-shoulders portrait that she thought she might frame and keep in her room.

‘You paint very well,’ Nicolas told her. ‘You have made me too handsome, but I can find no other fault with your work.’

‘Catching a likeness is a skill I do have,’ she said, ‘but I have much to learn about colour and texture. I do well enough for an amateur, which is all I aspire to be. I think you should have your portrait painted professionally for Rothsay, Nicolas.’

‘We shall both have them done,’ he said and frowned. ‘I should like to stay here longer, Lottie—but I think we should go back. I never intended to stay more than a few days and we have been here nearly three weeks. There are things that need my attention…’

Lottie saw a brooding look in his eyes and her heart sank. Had he begun to be bored here with her? Did he miss his friends and the life he led in London—his mistress?

Their lovemaking had been very satisfactory to her, but her courses had started that morning, which meant the nightly visits must cease for a while.

Was Nicolas disappointed that she had not fallen for a child immediately? He had certainly loved her thor
oughly these past days, sometimes three or four times a night, but she had failed to give him a swift result.

‘I am sorry that I have not conceived, Nicolas.’

‘In heaven’s name, why should you be sorry? You are not a brood mare, Lottie. It will happen in time.’

‘I thought you might be disappointed?’

‘As it happens, I would prefer to have you to myself for a while longer.’ He smiled at her. ‘I am in no hurry, Lottie.’

She felt warmed by his smile. Their time here had been pleasant and she felt that she had begun to know him so much better. She had no right to ask for more. He had given all he had promised and more.

‘So what are you thinking?’

‘I was just thinking it had been very pleasant here, Nicolas.’

‘Yes, it has, but it is not real. We should return to Rothsay and reality before it is too late.’

‘I am not certain I understand you?’

‘Why should you? I am not certain I understand myself.’ He frowned. ‘Do you love me at all, Lottie?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Her heart thumped because she was afraid of betraying herself and would not look at him. ‘I am very fond of you, Nicolas. You are my husband.’

‘Yes, I thought so,’ he replied. ‘I think I shall go for a long ride, Lottie. Do not expect me back to supper. There are some friends I wish to visit. Tell the servants to pack. We shall leave first thing in the morning.’

Lottie felt as if he had slapped her. What had caused him to suddenly withdraw from her? Had she showed her feelings too plainly? Tears stung her eyes. She had tried so hard not to impose conditions or strings—but to
no avail. He had grown tired of her as she had expected, though she had hoped he might find contentment in their arrangement, as she had.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘You are quite right, Nicolas. There is a great deal to do at home. This has been a pleasant interlude, but it is time to move on.’

He inclined his head and walked purposefully from the room, leaving Lottie to fight her tears.

Nicolas did not come in until the early hours of the morning. Lottie heard him moving around in his room. There was the sound of something falling, as if he had knocked over a stool or small table, and then he swore. She waited for a few minutes, then, as everything went quiet, took a candle and went into his bedchamber. Nicolas was lying on his bed, wearing his breeches, shirt and boots. His eyes were closed and he was snoring.

‘Nicolas…is something the matter?’

He did not answer, but a little snore told her that he was fast asleep. She went closer and caught the smell of strong drink. He was drunk!

Lottie was shocked. She had never known Nicolas to drink too much and it made her feel very guilty. She had failed him and he had been driven to drink to get away from her. Or perhaps he had felt trapped because she had shown him too clearly that she was in love with him.

‘I am sorry, dearest,’ she said and went to remove his boots. They came off with a series of sharp tugs. He stirred once and muttered something but she continued to pull them off and then went to cover him with a light blanket. ‘Forgive me…’

‘Damn it, Elizabeth,’ he muttered. ‘You knew I adored you—why didn’t you tell me? I suppose it doesn’t matter if you break hearts…’

Lottie drew back, feeling as if he had thrust a dagger into her heart. Here at last was the key to that bleak look she saw sometimes in his eyes. He was still in love with Elizabeth—and she had obviously hurt him very badly when they parted. Lottie had been told right at the start by both Bertie and Henrietta that Nicolas had once been madly in love, but she had put it out of her mind. Now she felt as if she had been doused in cold water.

It was little wonder that he felt trapped by his marriage. He had wanted to marry Elizabeth, but she had broken his heart and he had sought comfort in the arms of various mistresses. He had married for the sake of an heir, but Elizabeth was the woman he dreamed of and regretted even now. Lottie would be a fool if she hoped that one day he would love her.

She went back into her own room and sat down on the edge of her bed. Her heart felt as if it were breaking, but she refused to cry. Nicolas had never promised to love her. She had mistaken his kindness for something more and that was her fault, not his.

She got into bed and shut her eyes. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. She could no longer control them. It was useless. Her honeymoon had been so very pleasant that she had been lulled into a false security, believing that Nicolas was ready to settle to marriage. Now she understood why he never could.

No wonder he had not cared who he married. He was still suffering from his blighted hopes and did not care who he took to wife.

All he wanted was an heir and Lottie had failed to provide him with that small thing. No wonder he wished to return to Rothsay. He would probably be off to London soon after they arrived.

Lottie was feeling tired when the carriage pulled up outside the house. Nicolas had ridden his horse for most of the time. She had hardly seen him other than the night they had spent at the inn or when they had stopped for refreshment. He was polite and concerned for her well being, but had made no attempt to kiss or touch her. Of course, there was no chance of making an heir while she had her courses. If she had needed confirmation of what she meant to him, this was it.

Lottie had cried herself to sleep for two nights, but now she felt numb. She had decided that the best defence was to keep her distance, be polite, as he was, but reserved. Inside, she was hurting, but she had no intention of letting Nicolas see that he had broken her heart.

She got down from the carriage with a sigh of relief. Now they were home they need not be forever in each other’s company. Indeed, she thought it might be less painful if he took himself off to London. Every time she looked at him she was reminded of the way his lips felt on hers, or the touch of his hand, the feel of him inside her, giving her such pleasure.

‘You will forgive me if I do not come in with you, Lottie,’ Nicolas said. ‘I must speak to the bailiff and I dare say you will enjoy an hour or so to chat with your aunt.’

‘Yes, certainly I shall,’ she said. ‘Please, Nicolas, you
must do just as you wish. I am perfectly capable of finding something to do—especially now that we are home. I have it in mind to do something for the children of our tenants.’

‘Freddie said something about a school,’ Nicolas said and smiled for the first time in days. ‘I approve of the idea, but hope you do not intend to teach them yourself?’

‘Certainly not, though I might have enjoyed it had I not had other duties. I shall employ a young man to teach them. I am certain there must be suitable young men of good education in need of such work.’

‘I am certain there must.’ Nicolas laughed suddenly. ‘I think I have been abominably rude to you these past two days, Lottie. Please forgive me, if you can?’

‘There is nothing to forgive. I understand, Nicolas.’

‘Do you?’

‘I dare say you found a diet of my company tedious. You will wish to be off with your friends again soon. Do not imagine I expect you to dance attendance on me all the time.’

‘Do you not?’ He frowned. ‘I see I have no need to apologise. I shall be late this evening, Lottie. Do not wait up for me.’

Now what had she said to upset him? Lottie was thoughtful as she went into the house. It seemed that there was no pleasing Nicolas in this mood.

Lottie spent a pleasant hour having tea with her aunt. She was told that the countess had gone home soon after they left for Rothsay’s hunting lodge, but she had written
to Aunt Beth telling her that she intended to visit London in the very near future and inviting her to stay.

‘We got on very well,’ Aunt Beth said. ‘I am quite content here, Lottie—but should you wish to be private with Rothsay for a while I have a standing invitation from Lady Selby.’

‘You must visit her if you wish,’ Lottie said. ‘I have no intention of being private with Rothsay and you will be of help to me here, but I shall not deny you the pleasure of a visit to town.’

‘Well, I might go for a while later. The Season will be over by then, but I like to visit the theatre and too much racketing about is not for me—though of course there are always some hostesses who never entirely desert the capitol.’

‘Yes, I suppose there must be.’

Aunt Beth hesitated, then, ‘I had a visit from Clarice while you were away, Lottie.’

‘She came here to the house?’

‘She wore a hat with veiling. No one but I would have seen her face, Lottie. She asked me for money. I gave her ten pounds, but I think she hoped for far more.’

‘Yes, I dare say she did. She asked me for money before the wedding. I gave her twenty guineas.’

‘You must not make a habit of it, Lottie.’

‘No, but she is my sister. I cannot forget that we were close once—and, if it were not for her, I should never have met Rothsay.’

‘Well, I suppose there is that, but do not let her take advantage, dearest.’

‘No, I promise I shall not.’

After her aunt went up to rest before dinner, Lottie
discovered that she was too restless to do the same and decided to go for a walk.

Clarice might be a problem in the future. She would never be satisfied with small handouts, but what else could Lottie do? The jewels she had been given were not truly hers to sell or give away—at least she would feel badly if she disposed of a wedding gift in order to pacify her sister. How could she look Uncle Freddie in the eye if she sold his necklace? Besides, even if she gave Clarice a thousand pounds, it was unlikely to be her last request.

Oh, bother, she would not let Clarice upset her!

She set out for the lake, enjoying the feel of the breeze in her hair. It was good to be home. She had come to think of Rothsay as her home and was content to spend her life here, though she might take Aunt Beth to visit Bath in the autumn for a few weeks.

Lottie stood staring at the opposite shore of the lake. There was an old summerhouse there, which Nicolas had told her had been shut up for years. Lottie wondered if it might be suitable for the school she was planning. The building looked sturdy enough. It was too far to explore further this evening, because she would be late changing for dinner, but in the morning she would see whether or not it would do. About to turn away, she thought she saw something at the window—a face or a flash of white.

She was certain Nicolas had told her the building was locked, because he had mentioned the key being in the bailiff’s office, and she had planned to fetch it the next day. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, and yet she could have sworn she had seen something.