Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

Two

“NICKIE, THIS IS NO life. Not for either of us.”

Nick Aldridge swung away from the window, pacing his half of the room’s modest floor. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Or to Sully, for that matter. Now I’m imprisoned in a bloody London inn, locked up like a caged rat for Lord knows how long. You and your crazy scheme.”

“It isn’t crazy, Papa,” Nicole murmured, her voice muffled by the blanket they’d strung up to afford each a bit of privacy. She stepped around it, concentrating on the unfamiliar task of buttoning up a bodice. “The rumor we started makes perfect sense. As far as the world knows, you injured your leg during the last furlong of the Two Thousand Guineas and are now recuperating outside of Glasgow, at the home of relatives.”

“We have no relatives in Glasgow.”

A twinkle. “How would anyone know that? Besides, Mama had a Scottish cousin or two. That’s why Sully and I chose Scotland. It’s a perfectly plausible place for you to visit—and remote enough to keep any potential pursuers at bay. After all, you can do them no harm if you’re away from England and the turf.” Staring at herself in the looking glass, Nicole’s twinkle vanished. “This, on the other hand, is totally implausible. Impossible, in fact.”

“What is?” her father demanded, still prowling restlessly about.

“Me. This gown. I look—and feel—like a fool.”

For the first time, Nick focused on his daughter. Abruptly, his pacing ceased, an odd light dawning in his eyes. “My God, Nickie. I’d forgotten … you look—” He broke off.

“That bad, is it?” Nicole sighed. “Well, ’tis a choice between this and the beige one. They’re the only gowns I own, thank goodness. Were it not necessary that I blend in with the other women and be unrecognizable as Nicole Aldridge, I wouldn’t even consider donning this absurd thing. Quite frankly, I don’t understand why women submit to wearing them at all.” She raised her pale yellow skirts, glaring down at the offensive layer of petticoats beneath. “It takes an hour to dress, after which you’re too exhausted to move, too constricted to breathe, and too unwieldy to collapse in a chair.” With a disgusted sound, she released the full skirts, letting them fall back into place. “I’ll be grateful when I’m employed, back in the stables—and in breeches—where I belong.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You’re blind, do you know that, Elf? You’re beautiful. More than beautiful. Dressed like that, you’re the image of your mother.”

Now it was Nicole’s turn to look incredulous. “Papa, I believe a week in seclusion has affected your vision. Mama was a lady—an elegant, fragile lady.”

“Which you would be, too, if Alicia were alive to see to it.” He swallowed. “She gave you so much I never could—her quick mind, her love of reading, and that fanciful imagination of hers. Thank God she lived long enough for that. But she died before you finished growing up. You were a girl. Now you’re a woman. And I’m too rough around the edges to teach you anything about manners or social graces. I always assumed Alicia would do that.”

Hearing her father’s voice quaver with guilt and regret, Nicole went to him at once. “Stop it, Papa,” she said quietly, taking his hands in hers. “You know as well as I do that Mama’s death had nothing to do with the way I turned out. I’ve been in the stables, underfoot, since I could walk. The only time Mama managed to drag me away was for my studies. When she tried to interest me in more feminine pursuits, I fled the instant I could, scooting back to the stables in record time.” A small smile. “Let’s face it. I was hopeless.”

“You were also a child.”

“Not when Mama died, I wasn’t. I was nearly thirteen when she contracted her influenza. And she’d long since accepted that I was, to quote her affectionate words, ‘Nick Aldridge to be.’”

The sadness in Nick’s eyes softened to a whisper of memory. “She was so bloody tolerant. Even though my job meant she could never have the traditional life she wanted.”

“What she wanted, Papa, was you. She adored you just as you were.” Nicole leaned up to kiss her father’s cheek.

“She’d be proud of how lovely you’ve turned out. And she’d want me to see to your future.”

“Fine.” Nicole returned to the looking glass. “And you shall. But first we must see to yours.”

Nick’s lips twitched. “I think you should unbind your hair, for starters.” He gestured to her thick sable mane, which was twisted into an expedient but less than ladylike braid. “Try to fix it somehow. However it is that women do.”

Another sigh. “However indeed. It’s nearly dusk. By the time I finish making myself presentable, twilight will have come and gone and all the newsstands will be closed. I wonder if it’s really worth the effort just to fetch a newspaper that will doubtless offer as little in the way of employment as its three predecessors did.”

“A job will come up, Elf,” Nick soothed.

“One hopes before we run out of funds.” Nicole chewed her lip. “If we had moved to the East End as I suggested, we could have saved half of what we’re spending on this room. There’s still time to …”

“No.” Nick cut her off at once. “As it is, I worry every time you go out alone. But at least we’re in a respectable section of town, not living in a filthy hovel, surrounded by drunks and highwaymen who would do Lord knows what to you the instant you stepped out the door.” He shuddered. “No, Nicole. We stay put until you find a position.”

Nicole recognized that tone of voice and conceded at once, tugging her hair free and shaking it loose. “Then I’d best finish my chore and fetch today’s Gazette.”

Two hours later, Nicole was no closer to finding a copy of the newspaper than she’d been at the onset of her excursion. Further, all the newsstands had shut down, as the fashionable world shifted from day to night.

She halted on the embankment road, her stomach lurching to remind her she’d eaten nothing since breakfast.

Breakfast.

A wave of panic accompanied the more dire realization that the lateness of the hour meant all the shops had closed for the evening. Besides the newspaper, she’d intended to purchase food. She and her father were down to a half loaf of bread and a bit of smoked meat—hardly enough to sustain them beyond tonight.