Nicol had preyed on his mind more or less constantly since their brief meeting in Cruikshank’s parlour. However, after leaving Cruikshank’s, Lindsay had talked himself out of pursuing any further acquaintance with the man. Lindsay was, after all, in Edinburgh for one reason only. Nicol could only prove to be a distraction from his purpose.
And yet, Lindsay could not put the man from his mind. He tasked Wynne with finding out Nicol’s direction, then, once he had the information, brooded over what to do with it.
By the time Thursday morning rolled around, he’d had enough of his own swithering. What harm would a brief call do, after all? Most likely he’d find himself wondering why he’d found the man so alluring in the first place.
He dressed for the occasion with care, remembering that hint of disapproval in Nicol’s gaze. A small part of him wanted to provoke Nicol with another outrageous ensemble, while another part yearned to show the man he was no mere Macaroni. In the end, he chose a slightly more restrained suit, a sage green velvet coat with matching breeches, a waistcoat of pale gold silk embroidered with tiny flowers, and his favourite red-heeled shoes. He left off cosmetics and tied his hair in a modest queue, secured with a plain ribbon. Even his jewellery was simpler, a cravat pin of jade set in gold, and a single gold serpent ring with tiny jade eyes that he slid onto his index finger before setting off.
Nicol’s firm, Messrs. Abernethy, Guthrie & Nicol, had its offices on Bank Street, a short walk from Locke Court. When Lindsay reached his destination, he paused outside to briefly study the building in which Nicol worked. It was of a style very familiar to him from his youth: tall and thin with serried ranks of windows and steep, crowstepped gables. Not Nicol’s favoured style, he’d wager. This was mightily old-fashioned compared to the buildings Nicol designed.
Stepping up to the front door, Lindsay rapped the heavy wood with his cane. The door was promptly answered by a gangly youth, a boy of perhaps eighteen or so. He was all bony wrists and elbows and spots, and his slightly alarmed air made Lindsay suspect he was a very new junior clerk.
“May I help you, sir?”
“I hope so,” Lindsay replied, offering with his most winning smile. “I am here to see Mr. Nicol.”
Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped forward and the polite youth automatically made way for him, allowing Lindsay to stroll past him. No sooner was Lindsay inside than the boy thought better of it. Belatedly he asked, his tone hopeful, “Do you have an appointment, sir? Mr. Nicol does not like to be disturbed otherwise.”
“Oh, he’ll see me,” Lindsay threw over his shoulder, not pausing his step but continuing down the hallway, heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. Behind him, the clerk let out a muffled sound of weak protest, but Lindsay wasn’t listening. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, inhaling, searching for Nicol’s scent—and yes, there it was. That flinty, spare scent, so oddly familiar, yet so new.
He wished he had a name for it.
“He is always most particular about appointments, sir! I’m quite sure he wouldn’t—” The clerk was trotting behind Lindsay, his tone almost pleading. Really, Lindsay felt like a scoundrel, taking advantage of him so.
“Please don’t worry,” Lindsay soothed carelessly without looking back. He made for the door he now knew would lead to his quarry. “I assure you, Mr. Nicol will be delighted to see me. As you can see, I know the way.”
Without pausing to knock, he swept into Nicol’s office, closing the door firmly on the clerk’s startled face before turning and leaning back against wood.
The fair head of the man sitting at the desk in the middle of the room snapped up at his entrance.
“For Christ’s sake, Hugh. I told you I—” And then he broke off, his scowl transforming to an expression of astonishment. For one glorious moment, Nicol’s grey-blue gaze travelled over Lindsay with what looked very like stunned admiration—Lindsay had to wonder if the man had even recognised him without the curls and rouge—but a moment later his scowl was firmly back in place and his words made it clear he knew exactly who Lindsay was.
“Mr. Somerville? How the devil did you get in here?”
“And good day to you too,” Lindsay drawled, levering himself away from the door and strolling forward till he stood in front of Nicol’s desk.
Nicol had been poring over a sizeable plan, two corners of which were being held down by matching brass paperweights, and a third by a book. The fourth corner curled up towards the centre of the desk.
Lindsay lifted one of the brass paperweights and examined it. The corner of the drawing he released was adjacent to the other free corner, resulting in fully half the drawing rolling in towards the centre of the desk. Nicol cursed and shot out an arm to catch the paper, smoothing it back down across the expanse of polished wood. He scowled at Lindsay even harder.
“Would you kindly put that down?” he gritted out.
Lindsay ignored him, examining the paperweight idly. It was a two-headed bird of prey, its sharp claws curled around the blade of a sword. Lindsay recognised the symbol.
“Are you a freemason?” he asked, holding it up in inquiry.
“What? No. That was my uncle’s,” Nicol replied distractedly, before repeating crossly, “How did you get in here?”
“Your clerk let me in,” Lindsay replied. “Though you mustn’t blame him. He’s barely out of leading strings.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the paperweight to Nicol, who snatched it out of the air and set it down on his desk with a bang.
Lindsay offered a mischievous smile and added in a confiding tone, “I’m afraid I rather bullied my way past him.”
Nicol’s scowl only deepened.
Such an angry fellow, Lindsay thought. If only he’d unfurrow those fair brows and let the tightness in his jaw relax. And perhaps eat a little more—his face, though startlingly handsome, was a little too angular.
“You won’t scold him for it, will you?” Lindsay asked silkily, fingertips just resting on the edge of Nicol’s desk. He was watching Nicol carefully, conscious of his body’s reaction to the man even as he did so. His heart was already racing in response to Nicol’s heady scent, desire spiking in him.
He could see that he was not alone in his reaction. Nicol was not indifferent to him. His grey-blue eyes darkened as Lindsay drew closer and his scent sharpened. Lindsay might not know for certain what the change of scent meant, but he was willing to wager the man felt some level of attraction. Though whether Nicol was the sort of man to give into that attraction or to fight it remained to be seen.
