Page 57 of More or Less a Countess
Derrick’s quiet patience made it difficult for Nick to meet his old friend’s eyes, but when he did, he saw only concern there. “Then I, ah…I beg your pardon.”
Lord Derrick blew out a breath. “We both miss him. But you and I were friends at one time, too, and I’d like to be so again. Graham is gone, butwe’restill here, Dare.”
Nick nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.
When they’d lost Graham, Nick had felt like he’d lost a part of himself, as if a limb had been torn from his body. The limb might be gone, but the phantom pain persisted. Nick had learned to live with the dull ache these past few years, but if it wasn’t any longer the kind of pain that doubled him over and left him gasping, it was still always there, and it flared occasionally, usually without warning, and often just when he thought he’d made his peace with it.
Like right now.
Derrick sighed. “We’re not all like your father, Nick. None of your friends expect you to take Graham’s place, and you know damn well if Graham were alive he’d be the first to tell you to stop grieving and live your life.”
Nick stilled as he absorbed the undeniable truth of these words. It was strange, but in the two endless years since his brother’s death, he’d never once considered the situation as Graham would have done. He’d been so determined to run from his memories, he hardly let himself think of Graham at all anymore.
Derrick cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence between them. “If you’re not waiting for Louisa, then who are you waiting for?”
Nick hesitated, but it wasn’t a secret. He and Miss Somerset would be betrothed soon enough. “Hyacinth Somerset.”
Lord Derrick’s eyebrows shot up. “Hyacinth Somerset! You’re jesting.”
“No. Why should I be? What’s your objection to Hyacinth Somerset?” Lord Derrick was too much of a gentleman to ever disparage a lady, but Nick found his hands curling into fists as he waited for Derrick’s reply.
“Not a blessed thing, Dare. She’s as sweet and lovely a lady as I’ve ever known.”
Sweet?It wasn’t quite the word Nick would use to describe her. Infuriating, yes. Tempting, certainly. Intriguing, surprising, irritating, and fascinating—yes, any of those words would do, butsweet?
But then she did taste sweet. So sweet…
“She’s simply not the sort of lady I would have imagined would suit you, Dare.”
Nick couldn’t argue with that, and yet he felt his lips curving into an unwilling smile as he thought of her sharp tongue. “I’ll grant you she’s unusual. I’ve never known a lady with a greater breadth of accumulated knowledge. She knows a little something about every topic imaginable—just enough to get herself into difficulties, in some cases.”
Lord Derrick was looking at him blankly. “Accumulated knowledge?”
“Yes. Did you know she’s read Pierce Egan’sBoxiana? Not quite what you’d expect from a proper English lady, but I’ve no doubt she did read it, because she gave me a lesson on the merits of bare-knuckles over weighted gloves.”
That memorable conversation had occurred the day he’d escorted her to Execution Dock. He’d teased her mercilessly by arguing with her on every point from striking with the heel of the hand to crushed wrist bones—not because he gave a damn about weighted gloves, but because he admired the way her blue eyes sparkled when he challenged her. He enjoyed sparring with her. He enjoyed everything he did with her.
“HyacinthSomerset gave you a lesson on bare-knuckle boxing?” Lord Derrick laughed. “I think you’re confused, Dare. That sounds far more like something Vi—”
“Ah, there you are, my lord!” Lady Derrick hurried into the entryway just then, a smile blossoming on her lips when she saw her husband. “Lady Avondale is asking for you. Will you come?”
“Of course, my dear.” Derrick took his wife’s arm, then shot one more amused glance at Nick. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen Hyacinth at all this evening, Dare, but it sounds to me as if you want her sister. I haven’t seen her either, but I did see Lady Chase in the drawing room just now. Perhaps she knows where her granddaughter is.”
Lord Derrick wandered off with his wife, leaving Nick staring after them. Damn it, how the devil had Miss Somerset managed to slip past him? He hadn’t stirred a step away from the door for the past hour. And what would he want with her sister? He hardly knew the Marchioness of Huntington.
Nick’s jaw hardened, and his hands fisted with determination. He’d had enough of Hyacinth Somerset’s games. Something strange was going on, and he intended to put an end to it tonight.
He abandoned his post and made his way toward the drawing room. Did she truly think he’d give up if she avoided him? He’d kissed and touched her, held her in his arms and caught her breathless moans on his lips. For God’s sake, she’driddenhim to release in his bloodycarriage, and made him spill in his breeches like some green lad on his first visit to a whorehouse.
Nick had been with far more women than any decent man ever should have, but he’d never in his life experienced anything as erotic as those moments in his carriage with her. Every time he thought of it his cock rose like a soldier at attention, and he thought of it dozens of times a day.
No, more than that. Hundreds. He’d had so many erections in the past five days he was afraid his breeches would require alterations.
She washisnow, and she wouldn’t escape him again—
“Oh, won’t you play another song, Miss Somerset?Please?”
“Yes, do, Miss Somerset. A Christmas song, because it’s nearly Christmas, you know! Sing the one about the sheep.”
