In a private alcove lined with shelves, Nicholas pulled a ledger free and set it gently on the table before her.
She opened it.
Her breath hitched.There they were.Votes, dates, debates, amendments, exactly as she’d imagined them.Oh, the papers reported on the important stories, but never the details.Never the intricate things she wanted to know.Now, she devoured them.
She combed through every vote Nicholas had cast in the last few years, page after page.And he was right.Hehadvoted moderately more often than not, frustratingly principled in all the places she’d assumed he was merely posturing.Which only raised the far more aggravating question.If he were not a blind Tory loyalist, then why exactly was he so close with her father and the other Tories?It made no sense.
Then another thought occurred to her.According to the papers, the reform bill vote was so close that even a whispered rumor could tip the vote.Another reason she’d decided on her fox cartoon.But if Nicholas truly wasn’t a hardline Tory, with his influence over the Tories, he might well be able to swing the voteforreform.
Bea looked up to find Nicholas watching her, arms folded lightly.Not arrogant.Not triumphant.Just…present.Aware.
Awaiting her reaction.
“It’s true.You did vote moderately more often than not,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.
“Mm,” he murmured.“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed,” she said quickly.
He arched a brow.
“All right, I might be slightly disappointed,” she admitted.“I do hate to admit I was wrong.”
He laughed, a soft, rich sound that warmed her as thoroughly as a touch.
“But if that’s true,” she continued, turning a page, “why do you agree with everything my father says?”
Nicholas paused, just long enough for her to notice.“Do I?”he asked mildly.
Bea kept her eyes on the book.Her stomach dropped.Had she revealed too much?Said more than she should have?
She pressed a hand to her throat.“I mean…I presumed…”
“You presumed incorrectly,” he informed her with a wink.
Bea swallowed hard.“But if you disagree with them, why are you such friends with Father?Hargrave?Hillary?Any of them?”The question escaped before she could temper it.“Not to mentionyourfathercan hardly approve.”
His expression softened.“Well, for one thing.Arguing with my father is an exercise in futility.I allow him to believe I agree with him because it suits my purposes.And for another…I realized long ago that I can’t change men like Hargrave and Hillary by declaring war on them.I have to earn the right to disagree.I’ve never lied to your father.Or any of the Tories.”
The certainty in his voice unsettled her.This was not the answer she had prepared herself to dismiss.It shifted the ground beneath her feet, rearranging assumptions she had taken for fact.
“Is that why you brought me here?”she whispered at last.“To prove to me that I’ve been wrong about you?”
He did not answer at once.His gaze dropped briefly to the stone beneath their feet, as though choosing his words with care.“Honestly, yes…partially.But also because you deserve to see the world you care about.Because you care more deeply, more honestly, than any woman—or man—I’ve ever met.I knew you would appreciate it.”
Her breath left her.Just…left, as if it had been stolen from her lungs.
And then it hit her.She’d been wrong about him.This entire time…she’d been wrong about him.The enormity of her mistake settled heavily in her mind.
“Nicholas—” She swallowed.
“And also…” He looked at her—truly looked—and there was no calculation in his expression, no easy charm to soften the moment.“I brought you here because I want you to know me as I truly am.Not as you imagine me to be.And I want”—he hesitated, rare and telling—“the chance to know you as well.All of you.”
The silence that followed was heavy, taut with things unsaid.With implications she could no longer pretend not to see.Guilt pressed low and sharp beneath her ribs—the cartoon, the accusation she had inked without certainty, the ease with which she had assumed the worst of him, simply based on the company he kept.
Nicholas extended his arm once more.“Come,” he said gently.“There’s a gallery above the chamber.It’s for observers when we’re in session.Would you like to see it?”
She hesitated for only a heartbeat.
