"You? The elusive Lord Wycliff?" Glancing over his shoulder, Nicholas eyed his cousin with skepticism. Lucian was the most sought after bachelor in the country, with the kind of titled wealth and striking good looks that made debutantes swoon. Matchmaking mamas had been laying traps for him for years – and he had avoided them all expertly. "Do I know the lady?"
"No. I haven't chosen her yet."
"But you're prepared to shackle yourself to a bride?"
"It isn't the bride that interests me. I just thought it time I sired myself an heir."
This time Nicholas really did stare.
Lucian grinned his charming half smile. "Don't look as if I've suddenly sprouted antlers. I am not particularly fond of my relatives, other than you and Brandon. If I die, I would like to leave some sort of legacy behind. The thought of having a son – my own flesh and blood – has lately been growing in appeal."
"If you die, Luce?" Nicholas said slowly. "Is there something you haven't told me?"
Lucian's eyes grew hooded. "I had a… fateful experience recently. A glimpse of my own mortality. It's surprising how an incident like that makes you reassess your priorities in life."
"It's not surprising in the least," Nicholas said grimly. "In fact, it's quite common. What happened?"
Lucian remained deep in thought for a moment, as if recalling a dark memory. Nick wasn't certain what his cousin would have replied, for just then the earl's major-domo appeared to announce a visitor. "Lord Clune to see Mr. Deverill, my lord."
Lucian glanced at Nicholas, who nodded. "Show him here, if you please," his lordship commanded.
Lord Clune greeted both men with an affable smile. "Isn't it a bit early for tippling?"
"We are toasting Nick's return from the dead," Lucian replied mildly.
"I will happily drink to that." Clune glanced at the crystal snifter in Lucian's hand. "Your prime stock, I trust?"
"Of course." Lucian gestured toward the decanter on the side table. "Help yourself. So what brings you here, Dare?"
"An interesting encounter at my club," he said, pouring himself a glass. "With an enemy of yours, Nick."
Turning from the window, Nicholas leaned against the frame, giving his friend his full attention. "Which one?"
Clune smiled. "You have so many that you need ask? Captain Richard Gerrod of His Majesty's navy."
Nicholas felt himself scowl.
"Gerrod?" Lucian repeated thoughtfully. "I seem to recall that someone named Gerrod left his card here yesterday when I was out. Do I know him?"
"He is the overeager patriot who captured Nick and sentenced him to hang for piracy. Gerrod is in London, and he is clearly after blood. Your blood, Nick. Reportedly when he learned of your escape from the hangman, he was livid."
"How ill-mannered of me to disappoint him," Nicholas replied sardonically.
"This is hardly the moment for levity," Clune commented coolly. "Gerrod considers you gallows bait and is quite anxious to remedy the mistake that was made in letting you slip away. Actually, he was making inquiries about your American cousin Deverill. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he suspects your impersonation."
"What if he does?"
"Then it makes your situation doubly precarious. I would play least in sight, if I were you. In fact, this might be an excellent time to take yourself back to the Colonies."
"Or it might be a good time to pay the zealous captain a visit."
"You cannot be serious," Clune said with a frown.
A muscle hardened in Nick's jaw, while a grim smile curved his lips.
"Devil take it, I know that look," Lucian observed. "You're spoiling for a fight, Nick – and I cannot blame you. But in this case, I agree with Dare. The odds are too much against you. It would be far wiser to relinquish your desire for retribution and get yourself safely away. There may come a point in the future when you can confront Gerrod, but on your own turf."
"Perhaps." Grimly Nicholas turned back to the window, the tension in his muscles screaming for release. He would indeed relish the exultation of a physical fight and the chance to lock horns again with Gerrod. But his cousin was right, Nick knew. It would be suicidal to act now with the entire British navy against him. There were smarter ways to fight his battle with Gerrod.
It was the battle for Aurora's heart that he didn't dare lose.
Nicholas locked his jaw against the cold wave of dread that swept through him. By rights he should be alarmed by the news of Gerrod's blood quest. But the captain wasn't the cause of the cloying fear in his chest.
What terrified him was Aurora and the choice she intended to make in husbands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The thought of never again knowing his touch, his fierce caress, is more than I can bear .
Her reflections bleak, Aurora entered her bedchamber to find the lamps had strangely been dimmed. Nicholas. She came to an abrupt halt, her heart leaping as she felt his presence.
"Oh, my lady, 'tis very dark here," her maid said from behind her.
"It's all right, Nell… I have changed my mind. I don't wish to prepare for bed just yet. I think I would prefer to sit quietly for a moment."
"Very well, my lady. Shall I turn up the lamp?"
"No, thank you. Please, seek your own bed. I won't require you this evening."
The maidservant curtsied and withdrew. Carefully bolting the door, Aurora turned around, her eyes searching the dim room. Nicholas sat in the shadows in the far corner, watching her.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, wondering for the thousandth time how she would ever tell him of her decision.
"So you spoke to him," he said finally, breaking the tense silence.
Slowly she nodded, struggling against the flood of tightness that closed around her throat. "Yes. Geoffrey still wants me for his wife."
For the span of several heartbeats, Nicholas made no reply. He simply watched her, his eyes dark and intense.
"I can't leave him, Nicholas. He has been hurt enough."
His voice was low and flat when he ventured to speak. "You want to sever our marriage."
"I… I have no choice. I cannot hurt him more than he has already been hurt. He has lost his arm, Nicholas. Can you imagine what it would be like to suffer such a fate? Geoffrey needs me to stand by him."
Time pulsed between them, dark and endless.
"What about your needs, Aurora?" Nicholas asked at last. "What of mine?"
Aurora shook her head. "My needs can't be allowed to matter. As for yours… You are far stronger than Geoffrey is."
Nicholas gave a mirthless laugh.
"I have known Geoffrey all my life, Nicholas," she said pleadingly, trying to make him understand. "He is part of my past… part of me…"
"And you love him." The words were stark, bleak.
She lowered her gaze. "I cannot abandon him. Can you not see that?"
"I see that you're trying to protect him. You're set on protecting everyone but yourself."
Hearing the sudden harshness of his tone, Aurora wrapped her arms around herself, as if to defend herself against his recriminations.
After a moment Nicholas drew a slow breath. "What do you want me to do?"
"I… I want you to try and seek an annulment."
He was silent and completely still. She moved closer, searching his expression in the shadows. He stared back at her, his face torn with a raw and agonizing emotion that mirrored her own.
"Very well," he said finally. "I'll try."
"You will try?"
"To have our marriage annulled. So you can be free to wed your true love."