Free Nicholas: Lord of Secrets by Grace Burrowes

rabbit, peering out from between the fern hedges. You have a knack for finding hiding places. Still no sign of Hellerington?”
    “My lord.” Leah’s tone was cool, which seemed only to amuse him.
    “Reston?” Nick arched an eyebrow. “At your service, and so forth? Are you going to make me start all over with the elementary civilities like an errant schoolboy who’s offended teacher at the dame school?”
    “I am not up to your humor, my lord.”
    Nick surveyed her with a thoughtful frown. “You are not out of charity with me because of the time I spent with you on the terrace, though you should be, but you are out of charity with me because I rescued your poor, beleaguered brother from Lady Blanche’s clutches. Am I right?”
    Rescued Darius? Perhaps he had, but still… “She was familiar to you. Familiar with you.”
    “Leah, I am a single young man of good fortune and rank, and that makes me part hound. The Lady Blanches of this world consort with dogs according to very well-understood and sensible rules, and the Lady Leahs of the world do not. I am not proud of such associations, but I am capable of treating decent women decently. Blanche is a dog of a sort herself, and you should not envy her.”
    She liked that he was honest with her, more honest even than her brothers could be. “I am to feel sorry for her?”
    “You really should. She is lonely, mean, pathetic, and headed for a miserable existence. Warn your brother off her if you get the chance. Now, the supper waltz is coming up, and you owe it to me to let me prove I can behave. Will you do me the honor?”
    “I’d rather not.” She wanted to; she wanted to so very badly, which meant she ought not.
    “If I’m to credibly court you, lovey”—Nick bumped her shoulder gently with his own, which was rather like being nudged by a well-mannered horse—“you’re going to have to be seen with me, and supper will start the tongues wagging nicely. Now don’t be difficult. There are always sacrifices to be made in the course of being rescued.”
    “You won’t jolly me out of this,” Leah said, though she was feeling unaccountably more sanguine.
    Nick smiled over at her, a smile full of flirtation the likes of which Leah hadn’t seen since, well, ever . A smile like that made a woman wonder if she might show off just a hint more of her bosom, or perhaps tap the handle of her fan against her lips. Slowly. Repeatedly.
    “You remind me of my grandmother again.” Nick rose and extended a hand down to her, the same hand that had cradled her jaw so tenderly. “This is a great compliment, I assure you. I am not asking you to forgive me my private associations, Leah, just tolerate a few minutes in my company for a good cause.”
    “Oh, very well.” Leah rose without his assistance just to make her point, but let him stand up with her and lead her in to supper. The dance was different, of course. Nick held her at the proper distance, though he twirled her down the room with the same sense of utter competence she’d found so appealing on the darkened terrace. On one or two turns, he did pull her in a little too closely. Leah had the impression he was doing it to maintain appearances, that it was expected that Lord Reston—part hound—couldn’t help but flirt with whatever lady was to hand.
    How utterly not flattering.
    “And now we line up at the trough with our fellow shoats,” Nick leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Can we return to your hedge-bench to eat in relative peace?”
    “You are flirting,” Leah whispered back. “It’s tiresome.”
    “It’s expected.” His nose bumped her temple—which had to be an accident, didn’t it? “Of both of us, if I might remind you.”
    He was right, damn him and his canine attributes. Leah arranged a smile on her face, and let Nick fill up her plate, and one for himself as well.
    He leaned in again to speak close to her ear. “Now we make our escape, or Lady Blanche will find me unprotected