A Visit From Sir Nicholas by Victoria Alexander Page B

would be considered service to the crown."
    "Business is exceedingly important in this day and age, and Her Majesty knows it. While the significance of that visit is not diminished by its brevity, to my mind, it scarcely counts." Frederick aimed his cigar at the younger man. "Ten years is an exceptionally long time to remain away."
    "Not at all. At least, not in the way in which the world judges time." Nick shrugged. "It's all relative, Uncle. As history goes, a decade is a mere blink of an eye."
    "Well, in my history, it's been a bloody long time." Frederick's voice softened. "I have missed you, my boy. It is good to have you home."
    "It is good to be home." Nick's tone matched his uncle's.
    He sipped his brandy, the mellow warmth of the liquor matching the equally comfortable warmth of his mood. He would not have believed it when he'd left ten long years ago, but he'd missed London and this house and this man more than he had thought possible. This was the only real home he had ever known, and he'd had no idea it meant so much to him until he was no longer here.
    Aside from a bit more gray on his uncle's head, nothing had really changed. The library, indeed all of Thornecroft House, was exactly as he remembered. Even the disarray in this particular room appeared untouched, although Nick suspected that in the last decade, Mrs. Smithers had surely managed regular, if surreptitious, cleanings. Still, the look, even the scents of beeswax and cigars and times long past were exactly as he'd remembered when he'd closed his eyes at the end of a day. This was the very essence of comfort and belonging and home and precisely what he had missed in those endless years alone. It was indeed exceedingly good to be back.
    "You have made quite a name for yourself, Nick." The older man's eyes glowed with pride. "Why, I don't know of a single person in all of London who isn't aware of the fortune you've made or the success you've achieved."
    Nick laughed. "And no doubt I can credit you for that."
    "Perhaps." A gruff note sounded in Frederick's voice, and Nick bit back a smile. It was obvious that his uncle had made it a point of trumpeting Nick's financial triumphs through the years. "I see no reason to keep your success a secret, especially as you have made me a far wealthier man in the process." Frederick grinned. "And I am most appreciative."
    "It's the least I could do, Uncle. After all, you gave me the funds to start with."
    "Nonetheless, you've worked tirelessly, and you've earned everything you have."
    "Even the notoriety?"
    "There's nothing particularly distasteful about notoriety of an affirmative nature. You've become extremely successful, and the world, at least the rarefied, refined world of London society, should be aware of it. I don't mind telling you that the notion that the only honorable wealth is that which has been in a family for generations is complete and utter nonsense. We should applaud man's ingenuity rather than his ability to outlive wealthy relations. I'm damnably proud of you, Sir Nicholas, and I don't give a fig who knows it."
    "Thank you, Uncle." Nick raised his glass. "I will confess," he flashed a grin, "I'm rather proud of myself."
    "As well you should be." Frederick nodded and returned the salute. Nick had indeed earned his success. What he had been able to locate of his father's investments, given James's random record keeping, had proved worthless. Nick's own ventures into shipping and exporting had produced a steady profit with equally steady, but only moderate, growth. It was when he'd invested and then become a partner in a new steamship line to transport not only goods but also passengers that his fortune had truly been made.
    Steam-powered ships crossed the Atlantic from England to America in a mere eleven days rather than the thirty-five or more required for a crossing by sail. The combination of speed and novelty had proved irresistible to a public eager for a faster, more convenient, and,