Page 24 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“What are you doing?” I asked. “I thought you were going to ride Felix?”

“Jensen will ride him for a while. You and I need to talk.”

On that inauspicious note he pulled the carriage door closed with a snap, and banged his gold-handled stick on the roof, signalling to the coach driver that it was time to depart.

We rattled along the cobbled streets for several moments in silence. Nicholas stared broodingly out of the window. He did not seem inclined to begin this talk we needed to have and so I reached into my reticule for a book – one of two that were in there – leaning back in my seat and opening up to the page where I had left off. It was an entertaining novel, full of swooning heroines and wicked uncles and accidental poisonings. The hero bore a striking resemblance to the man across from me, who was currently sulking like a four-year-old child.

“Are you … reading?” he asked finally, in the sort of tones with which one might ask, “Are you eating human flesh?”

“Yes.” I turned a page. “You didn’t seem to be in a particularly chatty mood.”

He glared at me. “We have important things to discuss.”

I closed my book and rested my hands calmly on the top. “Certainly.”

He held my gaze for a moment and then sighed. “You’re not going to let me tell you how to do things, are you?”

“It does seem unlikely,” I agreed. “You should have chosen a more pliable seamstress for the job.”

“It would appear so.” He sighed again. “Have you had an opportunity to read the material that I sent you?”

I struggled to keep a straight face. “Ah, yes,” I said. “The etiquette book.”

“It is crucial that you know how to behave. If this plan is to work then you must appear to be a well-bred young lady.”

“And heaven knows I’m not one of those.”

“I have no idea what you are, actually, but I hope that you read the book.”

In fact, I had read the book and I had found it stuffy and ridiculous – full of advice on things like the order in which we should proceed from the drawing room into dinner based on everyone’s titles, or admonishments that a lady never bites her bread at dinner.

“I now know that as a young woman I should talk only of trifles … though it was a little unclear on what a trifle might be. Also that I should avoid making personal remarks in case I accidentally end up insulting someone’s wife or sister to their face.” I raised my eyebrows at Nicholas. “Surprising that you high-society types needed to have that one spelled out to you, but I daresay you’re not generally the sharpest of tacks.”

I pulled the book in question from my reticule. “I was confused by this part,” I said, flicking through the pages. “It says here that you should avoid being the first to arrive or the last to leave at an evening party, but surely someone must be those things? Are all of the guests to be waiting one another out? Will no one ever descend for dinner for fear of being the first to do so?”

He glowered at me. “I hope you are taking this seriously.”

“I am taking it very seriously. I know what to do.”

And that was true, though it had nothing to do with Nicholas Wynter’s silly book. How could I possibly tell him that I knew the rules of Holland Hall better than he did himself?

“I will admit your methods so far seem to have been effective,” he said grudgingly. “Stefan has been pestering me ever since the ball. He wants to know who you are.”

I resisted the urge to crow. “That’s good, then.”

“I still think it was a reckless decision to leave early.” He frowned, his gaze turning to the window. “It’s important that this plays out the right way.”

There was a hardness to his voice now. I wondered again why Nicholas was so intent on destroying Stefan. Not that it really mattered. I had my own plans for revenge, and this whole charade was merely the means to an end.

“You have two weeks to get him to propose.” Nicholas drummed his fingers against his knee. “He’ll want to announce something at the ball at the end of the fortnight. It’s to be quite an elaborate affair. The perfect scene for a public humiliation.”

“Go on, then,” I said encouragingly. “You’ve got it all planned out. How do you suggest that I secure a proposal in that time?”

Those chilly blue eyes settled on me for a moment. “If you would like my advice…”

“I would.”

He leaned forward. “First of all, we will continue the fiction that I am interested in you myself.”