Chapter 3
Pompous woman.
Troublesome girl.
Eliza had a definite sense that in accepting this responsibility, she had made a wager with the Devil.
And that particular devil not only had dancing blue eyes, but was immediately behind her as she descended the stairs.
“You need not show me the way, Captain,” Eliza said, keenly aware of Nicholas’ presence. His aunt’s home in Berkley Square was one of the smallest townhouses there—and the last home in the block with a Berkley Square address—but it was neatly kept. No stranger to frugality, Eliza had noticed that the sandwiches offered for tea were sufficient but not plentiful, and that their fillings had been of more economical varieties. The cakes, while from a fashionable confectioner, had surely been counted out with care and spaced artfully on the plate with plainer cakes in between. Sensing as much, she had not partaken of one.
She would have to ask her mother about Lady Dalhousie’s situation.
“What if I feel compelled to do as much?” he asked, his tone playful.
Eliza halted and spun to face him, a move that so surprised him that he took another step before halting. They were very close as a result, a situation she could not find objectionable.
She also realized that the butler had vanished, summoned by Lady Dalhousie’s bell.
They were alone for the moment and she chose to savor it.
Nicholas did not retreat, either, a choice that gave her hope for her own dream, though his expression was guarded. Again, she sensed the change in him and wondered at its source. The shadow in his eyes was more difficult to ignore at such close proximity.
What had happened to him during the war?
Nicholas had shaved in the interval between breakfast and her visit, which did not entirely eliminate his air of disreputability. Eliza remembered him being bold but not reckless—indeed, he had been courageous but not foolhardy, always responsible and protective of others. He shared those traits with Damien. There was a resolve to the line of his lips, a hint that he had seen much, and she yearned to touch him, to soften that line with her fingertip.
To coax him to smile again.
He had also changed to another uniform. Though it was neatly tended and fit him trimly, the fabric was a bit worn along the seams. She recalled Damien’s comments about his friend’s lack of fortune.
With sudden clarity, Eliza understood the need for Helena to marry well—and in the same moment, she guessed why the girl was so lively. It was not in that young beauty’s nature, at least not yet, to make a choice for the sake of others. Helena must resent that she would not be able to freely select her own husband. Unless Eliza misunderstood the girl’s nature, she wagered that Helena would endeavor to have her choice despite the expectations placed upon her.
In so doing, she might condemn her brother and aunt to a future of austerity, if not more constrained circumstances than that.
Eliza had to help.
“Do you reconsider your choice, Mrs. North?” Nicholas asked softly. “You seem to be solemnly pondering the wager you have made.”
“I apologize that I was lost in thought.” Eliza retreated a step. “You have granted me a daunting responsibility, Captain Emerson, and I simply wonder at the best course.”
“How so?”
“I rather fancy that your sister is inclined to follow her heart when it comes to courtship, independent of more practical considerations.”
Nicholas smiled, a dazzling sight and one that made Eliza’s heart leap. It was not sufficient to banish the shadows in his eyes, but still she warmed beneath his regard. “You are as perceptive as ever, my lady,” he murmured. “What if I were to tell you that I have learned to grant responsibility only to those who can be relied upon to meet it?”
Eliza held his gaze, keenly aware that it was not just roses that beguiled. “Then I might suggest that your assessment was overly generous in this instance. Perhaps you have been away from society for too long.”
“That only leaves me and my sister more reliant upon your excellent judgment.”
“Was there any hint of a match in your sister’s first season?”
Nicholas frowned slightly, considering her question, and she savored the opportunity to study him. “You recognize that I was still abroad, so have no firsthand knowledge of her debut.” Eliza nodded and he continued. “And yet, I recall my aunt mentioning in a letter that there was a man.” He raised a finger. “Ah, I remember now! In truth, Aunt Fanny wrote to complain to me of my sister’s insistence upon accepting the attentions of a man my aunt considered to be highly unsuitable.” He shook his head. “I was expected to intervene from the south of France.”
“And did you?”
“Of course not. It would have been quite impossible.”
