She thought she understood what drove his pursuit. It almost seemed as if he were wooing her, but Aurora felt certain her appeal stemmed from the challenge she presented. Winning her was a game to Nicholas. He was incited by the thrill of the chase.
She began to wonder if resistance was the right course. If she ever actually surrendered to him – if she allowed him to win – perhaps then he might give up the hunt and go home, sparing them both endless grief. She didn't want Nicholas running her life, dictating how she should behave, what she should feel. It was the height of arrogance for him to presume to know her mind better than she herself did. He had compared her to the Frenchwoman in the journal, and perhaps there were similarities, Aurora acknowledged. But she had no room in her life for wildfire passions raging out of control, nor any desire for the kind of pain such passion could engender.
Clearly she would have to devise a new plan for dealing with Nicholas. There had to be some way to turn the tables on him so that she could regain control of her life. She was never going to persuade him to leave her alone otherwise – for his sake as well as her own.
The risk he was taking worried Aurora greatly. She lived in constant fear of his exposure. Lord Clune apparently had taken up his sponsorship and was showing Nicholas about London, squiring him to gaming clubs and indulging in other rakish diversions. She felt sure he would get himself killed if he kept up his reckless imposture.
He was better known in England than he presumed, Aurora believed. But when he was nearly recognized, it was by a French emigre, of all people.
Nicholas had escorted Raven and Aurora into a milliner's shop on Oxford Street. The proprietor, upon seeing him, gave a start and clasped her hands together, exclaiming, "Mon Dieu!" under her breath. Then Nicholas removed his beaver hat, fully exposing his dark hair, and the Frenchwoman's look turned to confusion.
She seemed to recall herself and came forward to greet her clientele, but while Raven contemplated fashionable bonnets, the proprietor eyed Nicholas in puzzlement.
"Pardon, monsieur," she said finally in a heavy accent. "I did not mean to stare, but you have the appearance of a man I once knew."
Aurora felt herself tense, yet except for a polite smile, Nicholas kept his expression impassive. "Perhaps you mistake me for my cousin, madame. It happens with some frequency."
"Your cousin is Mr. Nicholas Sabine of America?"
"Yes."
The woman moved forward to clasp his hand fervently. "Oh, monsieur, your cousin is truly an angel. He saved the lives of my entire family. Not only mine, but a half dozen other families as well. Never will I forget him or the debt we owe him."
She was an older woman, with graying hair, but still quite beautiful, with the fine-boned structure and porcelain skin of an aristocrat. Nicholas gave her his most sensual smile, as if she were twenty years younger. "My cousin is a fortunate man, to be remembered so fondly by such a lovely lady."
The proprietor flushed with pleasure and released his hand, almost in embarrassment. But when sometime later they concluded their shopping, she adamantly refused to let them pay for the three bonnets Raven had chosen.
The moment they left the shop, Raven asked the question that had been burning on Aurora's lips. "What did she mean, you saved her family? You were too young to be part of their bloody revolution, were you not?"
"Yes. But I happened to be in France afterward, during one of their gruesome governmental purges."
"And you just happened to rescue a half dozen families from the guillotine?" Aurora said dryly.
He shrugged. "Actually, it was only four. And it was a firing squad. The guillotine had been abandoned by then as too ‘uncivilized.'"
Raven visibly repressed a laugh at his sarcasm, but Aurora was disturbed to learn of yet another situation where Nicholas could have been killed. She frowned at him over his sister's head.
"I suppose you mean to claim you didn't enjoy playing the hero, courting danger and risking your life?"
Nicholas shook his head. "Danger doesn't trouble me, but I didn't consciously seek the honor. I just seem to have a knack for becoming embroiled in rescues, even when I don't intend to."
"Even so, the problem now," Aurora said slowly, striving for patience, "is that your exploits have made you infamous enough you cannot hope to escape recognition."
"There are few people who know anything of my ‘exploits,' as you call them."
"But if someone whom you met years ago recognized you, others will as well."
"Then I will just deny the acquaintance as I did just now," he said mildly. "Stop worrying about me, love. It will only give you gray hairs."
His answer dismayed her. Nicholas seemed oblivious to the danger he was in, indeed, seemed to thrive on it.
Giving him a look of frustration, Aurora marched off toward her carriage, leaving him to follow with his sister.
"You shouldn't tease her so, Nicholas," Raven said tightly. "She's worried that you will come to harm and only wants to protect you."
Nick glanced at her quizzically, surprised to hear the anger in her voice. "Was I teasing her?"
"You know you were. If you understood what Aurora has endured, you would not be so unkind."
He raised an eyebrow. "What has she endured?"
"She may be a wealthy duke's daughter, but her father made her life a misery. It must have been wretched for her, living under that tyrant's thumb, having to suffer his rages."
"I trust you mean to explain what you are talking about."
Raven glanced toward the carriage where Aurora awaited her. "There is no time to discuss it now. Meet me at Tobley's Bookshop tomorrow afternoon and I will tell you."
His concern aroused, Nick found himself impatiently waiting for Raven the next afternoon. When eventually she arrived with her maid, he followed her to a rear corner of the shop. They each pretended to peruse the shelves of novels while Raven explained what she had meant about the Duke of Eversley's rages.
"His grace has a vicious temper," she murmured in a hushed voice, "that I had the misfortune to witness shortly after we arrived in England. I was living with my Aunt Dalrymple by then, but Aurora spent the first few days at her family's London house. Naturally she wrote to her father and told him of her marriage to you. She was concerned about his reaction, I knew, but I never dreamed it would be so violent. The duke came to London in a fury, outraged because she had sullied the family name by wedding a condemned criminal. I saw their confrontation myself."
Raven shuddered. "I had just been admitted to their house by the butler – Aurora planned to escort me shopping, you see – when I heard someone shouting. I found Aurora in the drawing room with her father. His grace was standing there, shaking his fists at her and screaming. I could scarcely believe how livid he was. When Aurora tried to calm him, he picked up a heavy vase and threw it at her! Thank God it missed and merely shattered against the wall. It could have killed her."
Nick felt a sudden knot of anger and revulsion coil in his gut at the picture his sister had drawn for him.
"To my shame," Raven went on in a low voice, "I was too stunned to react, but her butler tried to intervene. That poor man is nearly a relic, he's so old, yet even though he was no match for the duke physically, he stepped between them. Eversley shoved him to the floor and went after Aurora, his fist raised. I honestly believe he would have struck her if he hadn't seen me. He stopped only because he didn't wish to commit such an outrageous indiscretion in front of a stranger."