“What makes ye think I’m a gentleman? It’s bad enough I’ve got to wear these collars up to me ears.”
Hopkins did not yield. He was made of tougher stuff than Nick had initially credited him with. “A simple knot, tied loosely, should suffice, but you must wear a cravat.”
This altercation was leading nowhere. “Loose,” Nick repeated, pointing his finger at Hopkins’ face, holding him to it.
He still broke into a cold sweat as thevalet tied the fabric, and it was all Nick could do not to pull the dreaded thing off. But he resisted the impulse.
When the deed was done, Nick stepped back. Opening his arms and turning to the side, he asked, “What d’ye say now, Hopkins? Am I still the spitting image of this Darcy fellow?” He lifted his chin, certain of the valet’s reply.
“It is striking, sir. An exact replica.”
Nick dropped his arms. That was not at all the reply he had expected.
The colonel tapped on the door and entered along with an older gentleman—a portlier version of the colonel. He introduced him as his father, the Earl of Matlock.
The earl wore a gold signet ring on his finger and walked in a bold manner which communicated that, wherever he went, he was in charge. He also wore a smile.
Nick bowed. “Thank ye for getting me out of Newgate, Me Lord.” Now, down to business. “What do ye want from me?”
The earl eyed him for several moments. Nick stood his tallest. Finally, the gentleman spoke. “I sense you are a man without a place in the world. We might be able to help you with that.”
“That’s fine, Me Lord, but ye didn’t answer me question. What’s this generosity going to cost me?”
“Must assistance have a price?”
“I’ve always known it to.”
Again, that assessing stare. “I see you will not accept my help until you are convinced it shall not be too dear—”
“If I accept.” Only after he’d interrupted did Nick realize that probably wasn’t something you did to an earl.
His Lordship tilted his head, repeating, “If you accept. However, young man, by all appearances, you are my nephew, and I shall act toward you as I would to Darcy or any of my other nieces and nephews.”
Nick deflated. Changes in fortune were earned with the sweat of a man’s brow, not handed to him on a silver platter. As much as he wanted to believe he had a place with these kindly people who had already done him more favors than he could ever repay, he also expected for reality to come crashing over his head at any moment. “I can’t…” He looked up at Lord Matlock, over at the colonel, unable to complete his sentence.
“Then, you shall have to trust that whatever I ask of you shall be reasonable and within your power to provide,” Lord Matlock said.
He had Nick there. He was already too far in debt; there was nothing for him to offer but a degree of trust.
“You do not understand the gravity of your discovery to this family, do you?” The earl motioned and began charging down the long hall. “Follow me.”
Down the stairs to the main level, he entered the third door to the right. Portraitslined the walls, portraits of men and women Nick did not know—faces as strange to him as he was to them.
Until he saw himself.
Nick was too stunned to breathe. He pointed at the picture, the only explanation answering his unspoken question before it crossed his lips. Two dark eyes with thick eyebrows regarded him sternly—his own eyes. Nick reached his hand up to his dark, curly hair, cut in the same style as the man in the portrait. Rubbing his fingers over his chin, he felt the same small dimple the artist had captured in the painting. Even their build was the same. Taller than most men, lean, and strong. It was him. But it wasn’t.
Until that moment, Nick had thought Darcy’s family half-mad. He’d planned to get a few more meals, at least one more delicious bath, and then make his escape.
But now…
He was curious enough to stick around.
“William! You are here!” a girl squealed seconds before a young lady jumped at Nick and wrapped her arms around his chest, squeezing him to her and rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. She smelled perfect, like heaven.
Nick did not know what to do with his hands. He patted her on the back, looking at the earl and the colonel for help.
Their frowns were deep. “Georgiana, I thought you were resting in your rooms.” The earl glared at his son.
