Wizard's Daughter (Sherbrooke Brides 10)

But Nicholas wasn't there. He was gone.

Lee Po pulled up Grace and Leopold in front of a well-tended redbrick Georgian town house at 14 Epson Square. As he walked up the steps to the front door, Nicholas said over his shoulder, "No, don't argue with me, Lee. I want you to tool the grays around the square. Don't worry about me, I know what I'm about. I shouldn't be long."

Lee Po didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do. He knew who lived in this house.

Nicholas hadn't been inside the town house since he was a small boy—namely, at his father's wedding to Miranda Carstairs, youngest child of Baron Carstairs, barely five months after Nicholas's mother had died.

His knock was answered by a pallid, furtive-looking young man, his hair so blond it appeared white in the dim light of the entrance hall.

"Yes?" A very suspicious voice, Nicholas thought, and handed him his card, then watched him look at it and give a nervous start. That's right, you little bugger, he thought, I'm here.

He said in a quiet voice, "I wish to see my half brothers, one or all of them. Now."

"Ah, my lord, allow me to see if Master Richard is avail­able." The butler led Nicholas into a drawing room he re­membered reeking of attar of roses, his father's new wife's scent. He hated the smell to this day.

The walls were oak paneled, the cornices classical, the fire­place ornate, and the furniture light and airy, making the drawing room feel more spacious than it actually was. Like the outside of the house, it was well tended. It required quite a lot of money to maintain this property, Nicholas knew; he wondered how deep his brothers' pockets were. He looked for any sign that Lorelei had been in this room, but he saw noth­ing out of the ordinary.

He turned when the door opened and his half brother Richard strolled in, looking quite elegant in dark brown trousers and a waistcoat of brown and cream stripes. His coat was dark brown velvet. He looked quite fine and indo­lent, a young gentleman with nothing more on his mind than his evening's entertainment. Ah, but in his dark eyes: wari­ness. No, even more, Nicholas could see he was alarmed.

In his cultivated bored voice, Richard said, "Well, well, if it isn't a Vail I never expected to see here. What do you want?"

Nicholas walked to his stepbrother, drew back his fist, and slammed it in his jaw. Richard fell back, hit the arm of a chair, and went down. He was stunned for a moment. Nicholas moved to stand over him, hands on his hips.

"I didn't hit you that hard, you little puke, get yourself to­gether."

Richard Vail shook his head and rubbed his jaw. He looked up at Nicholas and slowly got to his feet.

Then, without warning, he leapt upon Nicholas.

He was strong and fast. Both of them went down. Richard sent his fist into Nicholas's belly. It hurt, but not all that much. Nicholas smiled as he struck Richard's throat with the heel of his hand, sending him scrambling backwards, gag­ging, to fetch up against the wall, all the while his hands wildly rubbing his neck. Nicholas grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright. He didn't hit him, but took two steps back and sent his foot into his belly. Richard grunted and stumbled back against the fireplace, now clutching his stomach.

Nicholas said, "I could hit you lower, would you like that?" "No!" Richard yelled, trying to get his breath, turning quickly to the side to protect himself. Nicholas stood quietly, waiting.

"You bastard! You kicked my belly into my backbone. I've never seen anything like that. Is that from your heathen Chinese friends?"

"I will tell you this one time, Richard, then if you act again, I will kill you. Today you kidnapped the wrong girl. If you ever attempt to take Rosalind again, you are a dead man. Do you understand me?"

Richard Vail didn't attempt to deny his complicity. He looked upon his half brother with hatred and a good deal of fear. His stomach burned ferociously.

Nicholas said, his voice even lower, quieter, "Do you un­derstand?"

Finally, Richard nodded.

"Good," Nicholas said, dusted his britches, and turned to leave. He paused at the doorway. "You hired two incompe­tent toughs, that's how Lorelei Kilbourne described your men. You have all your father's money. Surely you could have purchased better talent. Do you know the fools let the cloth fall away a bit from our father's family crest on the car­riage and Lorelei saw it? I would have known it was you without that information but it makes me feel better to have it verified."

Richard Vail leaned against the mantelpiece, his swarthy face pale, impotent fury in his eyes. "I only wanted to talk to this girl you're going to marry, this girl who is of no impor­tance at all, who has no money save what the Sherbrookes will give you as a dowry. I wanted to tell her what you were really like, warn her she was making a big mistake."

"If you wished to speak to the lady, why didn'

t you sim­ply pay her a visit? Didn't your dear mother teach you any manners at all?"

Richard said nothing.

"Ah, of course you wanted to add on the threats, didn't you? Do you know, I venture to say that if someone were stupid enough to threaten Rosalind , he would sorely regret it. She is"—Nicholas found himself looking at a statuette of a limp shepherdess sitting beside Richard's ear atop the mantelpiece—"she is quite fierce." And he realized, as he turned on his heel to leave, that he was smiling. But then he stopped in his tracks and whirled around. "If, by any mad chance, you weren't considering threats, if you planned to weigh her down and throw her into the Thames to be rid of her once and for all—" Nicholas realized he was shaking. He said very quietly, "If you were considering making my betrothed simply disappear, don't, Richard. If anything hap­pens to Rosalind , Lancelot will be next in line for my title. You will be dead."

"Damn you to hell! I hope she plays you false!"

Nicholas laughed at that.