Page 22 of The Viscount’s Forgery (Bluestocking Book Club #4)

N icholas shook Lord Marchfield’s hand firmly. “My highest congratulations, my friend.”

“I thank you.” Lord Marchfield glanced around at the small group. “I think you are the last to know of my sister’s engagement! Everyone else here has been aware of it for at least a sennight.”

Uncertain as to whether or not this was meant as a slight or only a general remark, Nicholas chose to stay silent, offering only a small smile in response.

“I hear Lord Huntly is quite delighted with the engagement,” Lord Hewitt said, as the other gentlemen – Lord Greenlaw, Lord Coatbridge, and Lord Rutherford – looked with interest at Lord Marchfield. “A Viscount, is he not?”

“An Earl.” Lord Marchfield, who was a Viscount himself, puffed his chest out just a little. “She is marrying above herself, it seems!”

“That is good.” Nicholas smiled back at his friend, relieved that the gentleman would no longer be sending his sister in Nicholas’ direction. “When will the marriage take place?”

“Within six weeks,” Lord Marchfield replied, with a smile of his own. “I am to have the banns called this Sunday.”

“Does that mean, then, that you will return to your estate?” Lord Greenlaw asked, as Lord Marchfield shook his head no. “You will remain here?”

With a heavy sigh, Lord Marchfield rolled his eyes. “My sister is insistent upon purchasing a good many new gowns, ribbons, gloves, bonnets, and the like before we return home in preparation for the wedding, so we must remain here for a short time, at least.”

Nicholas chuckled at this, seeing – and understanding – the frustration on Lord Marchfield’s face. “You do not want to be dragged around London’s shops, I think.”

“I most certainly do not!” Lord Marchfield exclaimed, with another roll of his eyes. “Alas, my sister is most insistent, and since I am soon to be giving her away to Lord Huntly, I cannot complain, I suppose.”

The conversation continued to flow, and Nicholas watched and listened, saying only a little here and there, only for an approaching figure to catch his attention.

His eyes lingered, his heart quickening as he recognized Miss Sherwood, seeing her glance at him, then look away.

Her hands clasped in front of her as she came to a stop a short distance away, though her gaze returned to him again.

Nicholas’s whole being began to burn with a sudden anticipation, and without even a second thought to the conversation or his friends beside him, he made his way from them at once, going straight towards her, his mouth pulling into a broad smile.

“Miss Sherwood, good afternoon.” Reaching one hand out and without thought as to what or why he was doing such a thing, Nicholas bowed over her hand. “I do hope that you came over here to speak with me?”

The way she smiled, a blush soon following, told him that she had done precisely that. “You noticed me, then?”

“How could I not?”

The words came out before he could think about what they might mean to her, but Nicholas did not find anything within him giving much consideration to that. He had spoken truthfully and now appeared to be quite glad that he had done so, given the smile that still etched itself across his face.

“I – I have a suggestion that I wanted to share with you,” she told him, the blush still touching her cheeks. “If you would like to hear it, that is?”

“Of course! The paintings, you mean?”

She nodded. “My friends and I have discussed the matter. We think it best that you do as you have done before.”

A small frown broke across his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Purchase a painting,” she explained. “Have your man buy one on your behalf, though there must be time between the purchase and the delivery of the painting at your house.”

Beginning to understand, Nicholas nodded slowly. “So that whoever it is that has been stealing my paintings will have time to produce a copy.”

“Yes, precisely. You must also tell your friends and acquaintances that you are purchasing this piece, so that they know of it.” The color in her face grew. “I presume that you have done that before.”

A hint of embarrassment began to nudge its way into Nicholas’ heart. “Yes, I will admit to you that I have always told my friends what it is that I intend to purchase. I have always made something of a show of it.”

She smiled at him. “I understand.”

“I must admit,” Nicholas continued, his frown growing, “I begin to see how arrogant I have been at times, in making such a show of my wealth.” He looked back into her eyes, the awareness in him that the lady before him was worth far more than any number of paintings, vases, ornaments, or trinkets.

Lord Bothwell did not have as much wealth as Nicholas, but mayhap, he considered, what he had found with Miss Polly Sherwood was worth a good deal more than anything Nicholas possessed.

“All the same, it is not right that you should have forgeries instead of the real paintings,” Miss Sherwood said softly, her blue eyes gentle as her dark curls danced lightly in the breeze.

“Do you wish to find out the truth, Lord Suffolk? If you do not, then I can end this matter at once and will not take it any further.”

“No, no, I should very much like to discover the truth,” Nicholas said quickly, surprised that one of the main reasons he spoke so urgently was because he did not want to be apart from Miss Sherwood, not yet. “Tell me your plans.”

The smile that lit up her eyes made his own heart warm.

She was so beautiful, he considered, so wise and considerate and caring even when he was quite sure he did not deserve it.

What he had said to her, that dreadful remark that had shattered their connection, had been forgiven, and she had set it aside as though it had never been said.

That in itself spoke of her fine character.

“On the day that the painting is taken from the establishment you have purchased it from, my friends and I will keep careful watch of it, all along the route to your own townhouse.”

Nicholas’ heart turned over on itself. “So that you can see how it is taken?”

“Yes.” She smiled a little wryly. “Miss Trentworth states that she will go into whatever establishment it is, so that you can be assured of our eyes always being fixed upon it.”

“That is very good of her – of you all.”

“Then you are agreed?”

Thinking the plan a good one, Nicholas nodded. “Yes, I am. You are quite remarkable, Miss Sherwood, I must say.”

This made her eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are remarkable,” he said again, quite plainly, wondering if the compliment had surprised her. “I find you extraordinary, Miss Sherwood, truly.”

Her expression of astonishment did not change, and Nicholas, taking a step closer to her, looked down into her eyes. “You are surprised at me saying so?”

“It is… it is not something I have heard before.”

That pronouncement made Nicholas’ heart drop to the floor, a heavy sadness sweeping over him. “You have never been told such a thing?”

Her eyes closed, and she shook her head.

“My friends and I encourage each other, of course. But my family and my sister… they have never wanted me to share my knowledge or my love of learning with anyone. It has not been seen as beneficial, I suppose.” A rueful smile settled across her lips.

“Society does not exactly take well to bluestockings.”

“No, it does not,” Nicholas admitted, “and my own opinion has never been particularly warm, not until I was finally in the company of a bluestocking, not until I was able to know her character, her determination, her kindness, and her good heart.”

Miss Sherwood’s face grew redder still, but her eyes did not pull from his, and the longer he looked into them, the more they filled with stars.

“That is why I say you are extraordinary,” he said, quieter now.

“Because it is what I truly think. You have shown such remarkable skill in ascertaining which of my paintings are not genuine, and you have done so with both diligence and discretion. You have forgiven my wrongdoing without hesitation, shown me kindness and understanding when I spoke of the shame I feared, should the ton discover it. In all of these things, Miss Sherwood, you have shown me just how exceptional you are. I am honored to know you.”

A tear glistened in her eyes, but the way her lips curved told him just how much his words had meant to her.

She did not say anything more to him, only bobbing a quick curtsy and then stepping away, making her way back to her waiting friends.

Nicholas could not take his eyes from her, watching her with every step she took and feeling a great thrill run down his spine when she turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder.

I do not want our connection to end.

The thought came to him with such strength, it wiped the smile from his face and instead made a dark shadow pass over his heart.

Once the mystery of the paintings is solved, I will not have the same nearness to her, the same closeness.

He swallowed hard, fully aware of what it was that he desired.

I want this connection to continue, to grow stronger with every passing day.

Pressing his lips together, Nicholas blew out a breath and passed one hand over his eyes, trying to make sense of his feelings .

What was it he truly desired when it came to Miss Sherwood? What was it he wanted from her?

“You are trying not to stare after Miss Sherwood, I see.”

Nicholas turned his head sharply, just as Lord Bothwell grinned and set one hand on his shoulder.

“You need not pretend, for I can see it in your face,” Lord Bothwell continued, before Nicholas could speak. “May it be that we will both find happiness this Season?”

With a long breath, Nicholas shook his head. “I do not know.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I am confused and uncertain about what it is I desire,” Nicholas stated, honestly. “I do not want our connection to end, I want it to grow ever stronger but surely that does not mean… ”

“That you have fallen in love with her?” Lord Bothwell asked, filling the brief silence that had come between them. “Just as I have done with Polly?”

Nicholas, who had not permitted himself to ever think that such a deep emotion would be within his heart, closed his eyes and let himself think on it, trying not to pull away from the idea.

“I have seen both the dark and the light when it comes to Polly,” Lord Bothwell told him.

“I realize now that there is just as much love for her in my heart as there has ever been. It was only my own confusion and uncertainty that hid it from me. It has taken me a long time to see that I only wanted to notice the positive within her, that I was blind to her faults, and in a strange way, I am grateful for the distance I put between us.”

Understanding this, Nicholas nodded. “Because now, you understand her better.”

“Indeed I do. And I can see just how wonderful she is,” his friend explained.

“We all have faults, do we not? It is to be loved in spite of them that brings such happiness.” He winced.

“I have not treated her well these last few months. I have thought only of myself and not of her, but she has forgiven me for that, has shown understanding and maturity through it all. For that, I want to marry her.”

Nicholas put out one hand and set it on his friend’s shoulder. “Then I wish you happy.”

“And might I wish you happy also, very soon?” Lord Bothwell asked, with a gentle lift of his eyebrow. “Will you let yourself pursue happiness with her, Suffolk? Even if she is a bluestocking?”

Nicholas’ mouth dropped open, but Lord Bothwell only snorted with laughter.

“You did not think I would remain unaware of it, did you?” he asked, as Nicholas looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Polly has told me everything, including about Eugenia’s habit of reading all she can get her hands on.”

“And you do not mind?”

Lord Bothwell shrugged. “I do not care. I am not marrying Eugenia, I am marrying Polly and so long as she is happy and contented, then so shall I be. I do not think it is an issue if Eugenia is a bluestocking. I do not think it taints the family name or brings some sort of embarrassment to them all. I understand that their parents both wish to hide that from the ton but I do not think it necessary.”

“I am surprised to hear you say those things, but I am also glad of it.”

His friend looked surprised. “You thought that I would be disinclined towards Polly because her sister is a bluestocking?”

A little embarrassed, Nicholas nodded. “The truth is, I could not be sure of what you would do. I thought there was a chance that you might reject a connection with the family because of it.”

Lord Bothwell grinned, his eyes alight. “My friend, once you are in love, nothing else matters. Indeed, her sister could be stained by all manner of things, disgraced and rejected by the ton, and I would still not turn from Polly.”

Nicholas listened carefully, aware that though he did not have the same strength of feeling, the beginnings of it were there.

“It is not her family that matters. It is not even her reputation that matters, nor her standing, what society might think of her or any other such thing.”

“Then what does matter?

The broad grin on Lord Bothwell’s face softened.

“All that matters is how I feel about her and how she feels about me. That, I know, will bring us through everything this life might hold for us. It is worth more than anything else, valued so highly that even my fortune would not be enough to purchase it. Indeed, even if I were to lose all that I had, even if my reputation were to be quite ruined by some lie, it would not matter. Not if I had her love.”

A slow, insistent ache in Nicholas’ heart began to grow ever stronger as he listened to his friend speak.

That was what he wanted, he decided. It was all that he desired, wanting to cling to it, wanting to push himself forward into these new emotions, new sensations that were climbing over him.

He wanted what Lord Bothwell had, what he had described with such fervor and passion – and that, Nicholas knew, would only come if he admitted aloud to himself what it was he felt.

He took a breath.

“Then I think,” he said, as Lord Bothwell watched him carefully, “that I must be falling in love with Miss Sherwood.”

Lord Bothwell chuckled, slapping Nicholas hard on the shoulder. “Yes, my friend. Yes, I think you very much are.” He tilted his head, his eyebrows raised. “The only question now is what you will do about it.”