“Bother that,” Nicholas retorted. “I will be up and about in three days, no more.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“I do say so.”
“Very good, sir.”
Never having suffered such a beating before, Nicholas had no way of knowing he would feel ten times worse the next day. He roundly cursed Captain Hawke and would have liked the pirate hanged.
It took a full week before he could move even slightly without pain. And though he was finally up and moving in another week, the cuts on his face were still raw.
He was in no fit condition to see Regina. But he couldn’t afford to lose any more time.
The wedding was only a week away. He had to see her.
He called at the Malory house in Grosvenor Square despite his appearance. He was told Regina was out of the house, shopping for her trousseau. This information increased his panic. He waited for an hour, and when she arrived he very rudely whisked his fiancée away from her cousins the moment she walked in the door.
He led her through the garden and on into the square, saying nothing, his stride long and fast, his expression darkly brooding. Her soft voice breaking into his thoughts brought him to a halt.
“You are recovered?” she asked. A brisk autumn breeze whipped leaves through the air and played havoc with the feathers on Regina’s bonnet. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with blue lights. She was too damnably lovely by far, blooming with health and vitality. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered.
“Recovered?” Nicholas demanded, wondering how on earth she had found out about the attack when he had avoided her these last two weeks just so she wouldn’t find out.
“Derek told us of your illness,” she explained. “I am sorry you were not well.”
Damnation! So he was to receive her sympathy, thanks to Derek’s coloring the truth. He would have preferred her anger.
“Actually, I was visiting a favorite tavern of mine on the waterfront and was set upon by ruffians who beat me soundly for my purse. Still, there is a certain excitement in frequenting unsavory places.”
She smiled tolerantly. “Tony was sure you would use your illness as an excuse to postpone the wedding. I told him that wasn’t your style.”
“You know me so well, love?” Nicholas asked sardonically.
“You may be many things, but cowardly isn’t one of them.”
“You presume—”
“Oh, stuff,” she interrupted. “I won’t believe it if you try to convince me otherwise, so you needn’t try.”
Nicholas gritted his teeth and she flashed him an amused grin. Looking at her beauty affected him strongly, as it always did, and his thoughts were quite scattered for the moment.
“I suppose I should ask how you have been getting on?”
“You should, yes,” Reggie agreed. “But we both know that what I do with my time doesn’t interest you. For instance, you wouldn’t be wounded, would you, if you knew I have been so busy I haven’t missed you? And you wouldn’t care if you knew that other men have escorted me to the affairs my cousins insist I attend?”
“George Fowler?”
“George, Basil, William—”
“Careful, or I will begin to think you are trying to stir my jealousy in retaliation.”
“Retaliation? Oh, I see, you judge me by your own behavior. How amusing, Nicholas. Just because you find other women fascinating—”
“Blister it, Regina!” Nicholas finally lost all patience. “Why do you wrap your anger up in polite nonsense? Scream at me!”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Aha!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “I was beginning to think you had no spirit.”
