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Nick laughed at that and liked the sound of it. ‘And I gather that the winner of such an unusual prize was yourself?’
‘Fortunately.’
They both took a drink and listened to the low rumbling noise of the busy house.
‘Georgie was promised in marriage to Sir Nash Bowles and doing her level best to get out of it. It was the only plan she could think of. Unwise but spectacularly successful.’ Frederick’s laugh was deep.
‘Bowles was there? At the club?’
‘He was.’ Fred had sobered now at mention of that name, the good humour of a second ago fading markedly.
‘One of the last things I remember is warning him to never darken its door again, but he obviously returned.’
‘My wife sees him as perverted and cruel.’
‘And I would agree with her.’
‘Well, the one thing I do thank him for is his threats to unmask her completely. It was only because she thought she might be shunned as a pariah when the ton got wind of her improper plan that she agreed to marry me.’
‘A wise choice.’ Nick lifted his glass and finished the brandy before placing it down on the table beside him and refusing Frederick’s offer of another. ‘The world you all live in has changed a lot since I have been gone.’
‘And you have changed in appearance since last night. Jacob’s barber is a magician, by the way.’
‘The bath helped, too. The Westmoor physician also came this morning to see to my hand. He says he expects it to heal completely if I am careful.’
‘Knife wounds can be difficult things.’
‘The blade hit the bone at the back of the wrist, but at least it did not break.’
‘Which explains the sling. If you don’t want to be thrown into society so quickly by coming tonight, Nick, I will understand. After the army it was hard for me to fit straight back in.’
‘Because you felt different? Out of place?’
‘Yes, and because I had seen things that no one else could even imagine.’
Frederick was quiet then and Nicholas was glad of it.
‘I had thought to go to ground, but if I don’t come tonight it will only get harder. Better to get it over and done with. I saw Lady Eleanor yesterday, too, by the way.’ He tried to keep interest out of his words though he was not certain he had succeeded as Frederick looked up. ‘What is her story?’
‘Jake is very tight lipped about his sister, but from what I can gather the man she married was from a well-thought-of family in Edinburgh. The Robertsons.’
‘Was it the family of the Robertson boy we knew at school, then?’
‘No, by all accounts he was not related to them. Douglas Robertson, Eleanor’s husband, was killed falling off a horse, apparently in some hunting accident, and when Eleanor found out she was pregnant she came home to Millbrook to have her baby daughter, Lucy. And to grieve.’
Lucy. Nick stored the name inside him and thought how hard a path that must have been for a sheltered duke’s daughter with all the promise in the world.
A bit like him, perhaps, although his promise had been dimming even before his absence from England. His uncle had encouraged him into the profligate and debauched underworld of the ton and he had gone in to welcome the inherent risks with his eyes wide open.
‘Do you ever think, Fred, that maybe we were fools back then, playing so hard and fast?’
‘I think you and Oliver were the ones who were the worst of us although you held the biggest share in Vitium et Virtus and gambled away the most money.’
‘It was fun until it wasn’t,’ he returned and stood to look out of the window. ‘I will go up to Bromworth House tomorrow and see my uncle.’
‘Take my carriage.’
‘Oliver offered me the use of his yesterday.’
‘Will you live there this time, do you think? Put down roots and stay?’
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders because he truly did not know.
‘My advice would be to find a wife like mine, Nick. A woman who can be the better half of you, for without Georgiana at my side I’d still be lost.’
As I am, Nicholas thought, and felt the shiver of ghosts walk down his spine.
Frederick leant forward, swirling the brandy around in his glass. ‘We can move the club on into other hands, younger ones. It’s probably past time.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind?’
‘Half the upcoming bucks of the ton would jump to it in a second, but it has to be the right people. A group of friends like us maybe, people who could work together.’ He smiled, his brown eyes soft. ‘For so long we all feared you were dead, Nick. For so long we talked of you with sorrow and regret even as we relived your wildest exploits. It is good to have you back again and in one piece.’
‘Well, perhaps not quite one piece, Frederick.’ That truth settled between them.
‘The bits will come back to you, but give it time and don’t force it. One day you will rise in the morning and realise life is easier and that the demons that once threatened to engulf you are more distant.’
‘Less insistent?’
‘Then you will also understand that life carries on, different from before maybe but still valuable, and that there are people in the world who never stopped loving you. Myself included.’
Frederick waited until he nodded before carrying on.
‘But enough of this maudlin emotion and confession, for I think we now need to get down to this afternoon’s business and find you some more appropriate clothes to wear.’
Thus the mundane allowed an end to the extraordinary truths of the conversation.
* * *
Nicholas could not remember ever taking this long to dress, but the Challenger valet was both insistent and persuasive and, although he had no clothes of his own to speak of, the man soon conjured up an array of cast-offs that fitted him well.
‘Just a slight tuck here, my lord.’ His grip was firm on the side seam of the jacket. ‘You don’t quite have the girth of Major Challenger. The trousers have been lengthened, but a good steam has taken care of any tell-tale signs of alteration. They give a fine impression of being your own clothes, Lord Bromley. Tailored to perfection if I might say so myself.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave this quietly. It had been years since he had had a servant fuss over him in such a way and it made him feel strangely odd. He had never given those who worked for the Bromley estate much thought before, but now he did. He hoped his uncle had treated them well and that there might be a few familiar faces at the Manor when he went up there on the morrow.
The luxury of London unsettled him and he fought for a touchstone. He wondered if Eleanor Huntingdon might come to Frederick’s soirée with her brother. He would like to see her dressed in finery with her hair arranged to show off the colour of it. He would like to dance with her. He would like to have her near.
Frederick came into the room he had been assigned just as the valet had finished the last stitch and broken off the thread, smoothing down the fabric.
‘A fine job, Masters. The Viscount looks as though he should fit in nicely.’
When the man collected all the assorted spools and left, Fred poured them each some wine in ornate cut-crystal glasses.
‘For fortification,’ he said and raised the tipple. ‘Most of those present tonight are friends and acquaintances, but there are always the certain few outsiders who might want to rock the boat.’
‘Are you warning me, Fred?’
‘You’ve been away a long time and stories have formed around your disappearance that have no bearing on the truth.’
‘For that I am glad.’
‘But a word of advice. If you do not wish to be the continued censure of the gossipmongers perhaps you could think of a reason for your injuries that may be more palatable. An army wound? The sanctity of government violence goes a long way in suppressing criticism, I have always found. The Seminole Wars, perhaps? The time frame would fit.’
‘You have thought about this already?’
When Frederick began to laugh he did, too.
‘The legends that abound about you as the reckless and dissolute Viscount Bromley are also a protection. No one will know quite who you are.’
‘Including me.’ He said the words quietly and finished his drink.
Frederick’s frown was deep. ‘You can’t do this alone any more, Nick. You have to let us all help you.’
‘You are already doing that and I will be fine.’
Chapter Four (#uc6f3cb2f-6692-534e-ae95-b650301180d6)
Eleanor had dressed as carefully as she ever had, her maids watching her with puzzlement on both their faces. Usually she barely cared. Normally if she went out it was only with much chagrin that she suffered even an hour of the business of ‘getting ready’.
Today she had spent most of the afternoon changing her mind from this dress to that one, from a formal hair style to a far less structured one. Even her shoes had been swapped from one pair to the next.
And now with only a few moments before she needed to go downstairs and join her brother and sister-in-law she was still unsure. Was the gold of her gown a little gaudy? Did her hair, set into up-pulled ringlets, look contrived? Was the diamond choker at her throat too much of a statement for a woman of her age?
She looked away from her reflection and breathed in deeply. No more. No other changes. She was exhausted by her uncertainty.
Jacob smiled as he saw her descending the staircase.
‘I have not seen you look quite as beautiful for a very long time, Ellie.’
Rose beside him looked as pleased as her brother did. ‘It is going to be so lovely to have you with us at Frederick and Georgiana’s, Eleanor. I wish you were with us more often in London.’ Her sister-in-law was in blue tonight and her fairness made her look like an angel. Every time Eleanor saw Rose she could understand exactly what her brother had seen in her as a choice of wife. She was kind and quiet, a woman who did not push herself forward, but waited for others to come to her.
With a laugh Eleanor took the offered hand and felt immeasurably more confident, an emotion she would need if she were to be any help to Nicholas Bartlett.
‘Nick has gone on already,’ Jacob said. ‘Frederick had a set of clothes that he needed to see if he fitted and he wanted Nicholas to meet Georgiana before this evening’s function.’
‘I am sure the Viscount will look well in anything he chooses. From all the accounts I have heard from my maid this morning as I was dressing he is a most handsome man.’
Rose’s statement was firm and Eleanor glanced at her. She herself had not seen Nicholas Bartlett in the house all day as he had left in the mid-morning for the Challengers. She hoped he had found a barber at least to shave off his beard.
Her nerves started to make her worried again. If people were rude or worse to him she could not quite think what she would do. Her brother would hardly tolerate such behaviour, of course, but still there was a difference between being accepted for who you were and being gossiped about behind raised fans and turned heads.
‘I hope Lord Bromley will enjoy himself,’ she finally said and left it at that.
It was only a short ride from Chelsea to St James’s Square and the rain and wind had held off enough to allow them a quiet passage into the house. After the death of her brother and father the family had been largely in mourning so it felt good to be able to go out again. The Challenger soirée would have a lot of people who were known to them attending, but it was not as formal as some of the grander balls.
Frederick and Georgiana Challenger were there to greet them after their cloaks, hats and gloves were seen to. Eleanor was, as always, struck anew at just how fine they looked together as they welcomed the newcomers.
‘Oliver was unable to make it tonight, Jake, because Cecilia is not very well. Nick is inside, but the doctor wanted his hand up in a sling so we had to rearrange his shirt and jacket somewhat.’
Another problem, Eleanor thought. A further way to draw attention to his differences. She suddenly wished she had stayed home.
The large downstairs salon of the Challenger town house was completely decked out in yellow, the colour lightening the space and making it seem even bigger. Numerous people milled around the room in groups and at one end an orchestra was tuning up with a Christmas song, ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. Eleanor had always liked the melody.
‘I thought Frederick said this was to be a small gathering,’ Rose remarked. ‘It seems half the ton is here tonight.’
Eleanor looked around trying to find the figure of Nicholas Bartlett. At six foot two his height should have had him standing a good head above many of the others, but she could not see him.
Perhaps he had cried off and left?
‘There is Nicholas. Over by the pillars.’ Her brother’s voice penetrated her reveries as he pushed through the crowd and once the crush thinned a little she saw the Viscount surrounded by women and men all hanging on to his every word.
Her first true sight of him took her breath away. He looked completely different from yesterday. Menacing, dangerously beautiful, the boy she had known fashioned into the man before her, the harder lines of his face without the full beard suiting him in a way she had not comprehended before.
He was all in black, save for the snowy cravat at his neck, folded simply. His hair was pulled into a severe queue and she could see the sheen of dark brown picked out under the chandeliers above them.
His left hand was fastened into a sling of linen, the small vulnerability suiting him in a way she had not thought would be possible—a warrior who had been into battle and returned triumphant. She could see in his velvet eyes an apartness that left him unmatched. Every man near him looked soft, tame and pliable. Untouched by danger and hardship.
Their party had to squeeze into the space about him and Eleanor noticed the frowns of those women who had hoped for a closer acquaintance as they were ousted back.
‘You have cleaned up well, Nick. I hardly recognise you in the man we saw yesterday.’ Jacob sounded relieved. ‘I would like to introduce you to Rose, my wife. You did not meet her this morning before you left.’
Rose looked tiny compared to the Viscount, his darkness contrasting, too, against her light hair and eyes. Eleanor watched as Nicholas Bartlett brought up her sister-in-law’s hand and kissed the back of it, his gallantry reminiscent of the younger man who had left them all those years before. A slide of anger turned inside Eleanor as he acknowledged her with a mere tip of his head and yet he made a space at his side and she came to stand there, making very sure that she did not touch him.
‘I hope you slept well last night, Lady Eleanor.’ He said this to her as Rose and Jacob were busy in conversation with an older lord they knew well. An allusion to their late-night meeting, she supposed. Unexpectedly she coloured and hated herself for doing so.
‘I did, thank you.’ In truth, she had gained about three hours’ sleep and it probably showed in the darkness under her eyes. He, on the other hand, looked as if he had slept like a baby.
‘Frederick said there would be dancing later in the evening. Might I petition you to save one for me?’
‘I am rather out of practice, my lord.’ She could not keep the surprise from her tone.
‘And you think I wouldn’t be?’
‘I do not know. I have no idea of what sort of life you lived in the Americas.’
At that he sobered.
As the crowd about them jostled slightly Mr Alfred Dromorne and his daughter broke in on their conversation.
