Regency Romance: A Race Against The Lord (A Historical Romance Book) (COMPLETED)

10

Nicholas woke up first thing in the morning with a dull ache in his head. He scowled at the morning sunlight coming through his window. There was a time when waking up aching was a sign that he'd had a very good evening the night before.

Instead, he was sore because he had dashed all over London to arrange Marilee's payment, and then because he didn't trust her not to have a change of heart and hop off the coach he had arranged, he had followed her halfway out of the city.

By the time he returned to his own house, there was a little bit of dawn light in the sky, and he had expected to sleep away the day. Instead, it was mid-morning, and he realized he couldn't return to sleep.

He shaved, dressed, and as he ate the food the footman had brought up, he decided that he needed to see Lydia. With Marilee out of the city, he could finally relax and think of things objectively, and he could see that he had been all wrong when it came to dealing with her. Lydia was too spirited by far to be sent here and there like a biddable cow. No, she had the spirit of a hot-blooded filly, and the last thing he wanted to do was come down too hard and break her.

Nicholas knew that his feelings for his unwilling guest were getting of hand, even beyond what Marilee had surprised out of him last night. The idea that he wanted to bed her was a familiar one, but the idea that he wanted to keep her was far more startling.

He knocked on the door to the drawing room, and Lydia herself answered it.

"We must keep our voices down," she said softly. "Eunice is resting."

Eunice was sprawled on the chaise with her sewing scattered over her belly, her mouth slack and a deep snore coming from her. Nicholas hid a smile of affection for his aunt and nodded at Lydia.

"Perhaps we can talk in the library, instead? If only to make sure my aunt gets her beauty rest."

"Oh, yes. That's fine."

If Lydia seemed a little quieter than usual, she brightened up immensely at the library. She gazed around at the two-story room, lined with books of all kinds.

"This is all yours?" she asked breathlessly.

"It is. It's one of the finest private collections in London. Every other Saturday, it is open to scholars from the local universities who wish to use it."

"That's very generous of you, your grace."

"Are we back to your grace? What have I done to frustrate you now? I have noticed that I am only your grace when you are in a fit of pique."

"Honestly, you make me sound like a child having a tantrum. But I suppose I am not best pleased."

She grasped a fold of her skirt between two fingers, raising it slightly and with an accusing glance.

"Do you see this?"

"I do. I was going to compliment you that soft green looks lovely on you."

"It's not meant to look lovely on me. I was told that my own clothes were being cleaned, but when I asked my maid about them, she said that the laundry must have lost them; at the very least, they are nowhere to be found."

"What a shame. It is a good thing that I have made arrangements for a wardrobe to be purchased for you."

The look she gave him was not what he usually expected when he bought clothes for beautiful women, but for some reason, he found it adorable all the same.

You cannot do that, Nicholas. It is entirely inappropriate. I need to mourn my brother. It is unseemly to go about as if I were attending parties and taking rides in the park!"