One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

“Miss Merrithorpe, do you need to sit down?”

And then she saw a reckless swirl of familiar gold hair, and that head turned toward her so slowly she wanted to scream.

Brown eyes locked on her, and Nick’s mouth bloomed into a wide smile of pure joy. Her heart fluttered into complete silence.

“Miss Merrithorpe?” Mr. Lee whispered. “Are you faint?”

Nick’s eyes slid down to the place where her hand touched her companion’s arm. She fought the urge to jerk away.

“Would you get me a lemonade?”

“Of course!” Mr. Lee answered. “Only let’s find you a chair first.”

“No, I’m fine. Only a bit warm.”

When she looked back toward Nick, he was gone. Her heart slammed back to life inside her chest, rushing to drive too much blood into her head. Where was he? Had she only imagined him there, like a desert mirage? What an unbearable thought.

Panicked, she scanned the room, but the crowd was packed too tightly around her. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”

“Cynthia.” Lenore’s hands grabbed her arms from behind. “Cynthia, I think it’s him. With Mother!”

“Where?” She spun around and the crowd parted to reveal Nick. He strolled across the lobby, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned politely down to hear her aunt’s words. His gaze flashed up to Cynthia, sparkling with mischief.

“Nick,” she whispered.

Lenore glanced at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, this is so exciting!”

Cynthia nodded. It was. It was so exciting she thought she might collapse right there in the middle of the lobby. But Nick looked perfectly composed as he stopped before them.

“Lord Lancaster,” her aunt gushed. “I am so pleased to introduce you to my daughter, Miss Rossburg, and my niece, Miss Merrithorpe. Girls, this is Viscount Lancaster.” Her voice rose in a little trill at the end.

“An honor, Miss Rossburg,” he said with a bow. Lenore bounced into an exuberant curtsy.

Then he turned to Cynthia. “And I have actually had the pleasure of making your niece’s acquaintance in England, Mrs. Rossburg.”

Cynthia stared, openmouthed.

Nick cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps she doesn’t remember me?”

The air whistled through her throat as she bobbed a stiff curtsy. “Lord Lancaster.”

Lenore hopped on the balls of her feet. “This is so exciting!” she repeated.

Her mother nodded. “This is exciting! Lord Lancaster, I insist you join us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

He bowed again, perfectly calm and charming as if they hadn’t been separated for 110 days. Cynthia drank in the sight of his smile.

“Mrs. Rossburg, I’d be delighted. What a kind people you Americans are, to take interest in a lonely stranger.”

Her aunt giggled like a girl while Cynthia’s shock twisted into irritation. A lonely stranger? What kind of poppycock was this? And why was he acting like a mere acquaintance? “Lord Lancaster,” she snapped, but Nick held out his arm for her aunt’s hand.

“If you would indulge me by writing down your direction, Mrs. Rossburg, I’m not yet familiar with your lovely city. Miss Rossburg. Miss Merrithorpe. A pleasure. I’ll count the minutes until tomorrow.”

And he led her aunt away without a look back.