He shrugged casually. "Ask Grant here, at least he thinks I'm trying. And I've had many ladies come up to me tonight."
"Yes, but those are the more desperate ones. Hardly good ton. Their families make them cozen up to win a man like you."
Grant obviously thought that was hilarious, but with watering eyes he kept his laughter in check.
Derek grinned in response. Sometimes he could see in Grant the lighthearted boy he'd been.
"Anyone for champagne?" Grant offered. "Mother?"
"That would be lovely," she replied with evident maternal pride in his manners.
He looked to Derek, and when he shook his head, Grant smiled before he turned to go. Derek then dutifully listened as his mother expounded on the merits of various young women, hinting broadly that he should choose them over anyone, any one woman, he might have in mind. Subtlety was not his mother's strong suit.
In fact, when Grant had accidentally let it slip that Derek was searching for a sailor, his mother had been just short of swooning. The idea that he was besotted with a penniless American who lived on a sailing vessel had become all too clear....
A hushed murmur flew over the floor, distracting Derek's attention from their conversation. A curious rush of anticipation surged through him.
Amanda carried on undaunted, not discerning that he wasn't really listening. "Yes, after that debacle with Lydia, you have to marry only the best. We can't have her kind aligned with the family again," she said, pushing her point again that the American "wharf rat girl" was not for him.
"Of course," he replied automatically, his curiosity piqued by the disturbance at the door. He felt an immediate excitement; indeed, his whole body tensed.
And then...it happened.
Staring, with his jaw slack. He was capable of no more when he saw Nicole, Nicole as he'd never dreamed of her. She was dressed in a pale blue gown wrought of some gauzy, near-transparent material. Her coloring had always been vivid, but when set against the soft blue, it made him silently marvel. And with her red-gold braids and curls piled atop her head, her body looked small and delicate, fairylike. Yet at the same time she was softer, fuller, and she easily filled the low, straight bodice of her gown.
He wasn't the only one experiencing the pleasure of watching her, he realized with a glaring sweep around the room. As she proudly walked in on some older man's arm, all around her people stopped their conversations and stared.
She looked changed, and not merely because of the clothing. Her air was more sedate, and her regal demeanor was pronounced as her escort presented people to her. Wait, why were people being presented to her?
His mother did not miss his obvious reaction. "Oh, I see you've spied the talk of the ton," she commented, sounding pleased. "That's the Atworth granddaughter, Lady Christina. We'd all heard the story of the shy, retiring heiress finally coming back to London, but who would have thought she would be so lovely?"
"Lady? Shy?" he managed before he snapped his mouth shut.
His skin went cold, and his chest tightened. He watched dumbfounded as Nicole, looking like a princess, was led through the crowd. Who was that man escorting her?
He ran a hand over his face. Things began to make a warped kind of sense. Put Nicole in a dress, and she transforms into a lady. "What's their title?" he snapped.
His mother frowned at him, but said, "The girl is sole heir to the Atworth marquisate." Misunderstanding the reason for his stunned expression, she explained, "Because of some political wrangling a few hundred years ago, if there is no immediate male heir, the title will devolve on a female, and so she is the heir. She's to be a marchioness, and a ridiculously wealthy one to boot. She would have come to England sooner, but she was afraid to travel--"
"Afraid to travel?" She'd gone toe-to-toe with him in a grueling sailing race. How many future marchionesses understood which sailing chanteys accompanied which chores? Or knew not to tuck their thumbs in their fists when hitting someone?
Why hadn't she told him?
He'd only been half-listening as his mother prattled on, but one comment drew his attention. "She won't be on the market long. She's had a score of offers. Even now, look at all the lovesick swains."
Nicole was thronged by suitors. His hands clenched.
"Oh, Derek, I do wish you would marry someone like her," she sighed.
"Done." He gave her an absent pat on her hand.
"Done? Just like that? What's the meaning--"
"It just occurred to me that you are, as usual, absolutely right," he interrupted, never taking his eyes off Nicole, as if afraid she might disappear. "And I will endeavor to do what's best for the family. Now, if you will excuse me..." He stalked off, nearly knocking the glasses from Grant's hands as he returned.
When Nicole spotted him, her eyes widened in astonishment. Distress rang in her voice. "Derek!"
She caught herself, and looked around at the surprised faces of her acquaintances. "Uh, Lord Stanhope. We hadn't expected to be honored with your presence this evening," she said, her empty pleasantry more even with each word.
"Care for a stroll?" he asked, as he bent down to secure her arm.
"Well, I don't believe--" Nicole started airily, but he pulled her up from her seat on a settee and along to the terrace.
"Sutherland!" she said, once he'd maneuvered them outside. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You don't go to these things. I heard you didn't attend these functions!"
"I could ask the same of you. When did sailors start making Lady Crossman's eminence list?"
Her eyes slitted as she answered, "I have as much right to be here as you do, maybe more."
"That's right. Seems you rank above even me in the hierarchy. You must have been amused when I accused you of trying to bag an earl."
She tilted her head side to side. "Well, there was a pleasing sense of irony about it, yes," she said.
"It's the perfect cover--Lady Christina living a quiet life in finishing school on the Continent, never visiting because she's afraid to travel, but finally coming back to live with her grandmother. I'd wager Lady Christina's shyness makes it d
ifficult to get any information about her because she doesn't accept many visitors."
Nicole assumed a bored pose. "So you've figured us out. Shall I clap?"
"I thought I knew you," he said with a rough smile. "You rub one foot against the opposite calf when you're nervous. You angle your head when curious." He leaned in near her ear, his voice low as he said, "And when I bring you to pleasure, your little toes curl."
She jumped away from him, shivering. "Are you quite through?"
He reached for her gloved hand, but she moved closer to the railing as though averse to his touch. A cold mask fell into place on her striking features. "Give me one reason why you feel you're entitled to even a second of my time."
He took a deep breath. "I need to explain some things--"
"You think?" she cut in bitterly.
This was not going as planned. He'd hoped she'd be somewhat glad to see him--hoped she'd missed him enough to at least listen to an explanation. "Do you even want to know why I left?"
"Oh, I believe I know why," she assured him as she turned to go.
When he grasped her arm again, she struggled to fling him away. "Let me go," she said with such venom in her voice, he almost did.
"Not until you let me explain."
She pulled away again, trying to get someone's attention through the corridor.
"Who are you looking for? One of your young pups?"
She smiled then. "I'll most likely marry one of those men."
"The hell you will!"
"And why not? You still don't think I'm good enough?"
"That's not it."
"Then what is?"
Before he could stop himself, he grated, "Because you're going to be my wife."
Her eyes widened, then glittered in anger. "Well, that's a rapid turnover. Word has it you just got rid of the last one."
"So you know?"
"Everyone knows." She looked down and smoothed the flounces on her skirt with snappish, overly crisp motions.
"Give me a chance to explain that. Please," he added at her uncompromising look.
"What's to explain? We were together for that long, and you never told me you were married."
"You never told me you were heir to one of the wealthiest houses in England."
"That's not the same! I didn't hurt you by my omission."
He exhaled and reached for her hand. "You're right."