The Seduction of Sara by Karen Hawkins Page B

her, the search for relief that had led her down more and more depraved paths.
    The bleak hole that festered in Nick’s soul ached anew. He managed a shrug and turned away. “You mistake the matter, Pratt. I am the same as always, only wealthier. And you may tell my bloody cousin that, with my compliments.”
    A long silence filled the room, then Pratt sighed and Nick could hear the solicitor gathering his papers. “I see His Lordship but little. Viscountess Hunterston keeps him well occupied.” The solicitor hesitated, then added, “Lady Hunterston has recently retired to the country.”
    â€œAt this time of the year? Is she ill, or—?” Nick broke off, comprehension dawning. “Ah, she is having another of Hunterston’s brats. What does that make? Ten? Twenty?” Sourness rose in his belly, hot and heavy. It wasn’t disappointment, for he’d come to realize that what he’d felt for Julia had been nothing more than hope—hope that she could, somehow and some way, save him from himself. It had been a vain and foolish dream, all tangled up with his desire for what he couldn’t have.
    Mr. Pratt adjusted his glasses. “I believe it is only their second child, my lord, although they have adopted several others.”
    â€œHow perfectly dreadful.” Nick clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at the lawn. “At your meeting with Ledbetter, tell him to set a date for completion. I want the repairs to the Hall finished as quickly as possible.”
    Pratt bowed, then crossed to the door. “Yes, my lord. Is there anything else you require?”
    â€œNo. Just…Pratt?”
    The solicitor turned around, his pale eyes curious. “Yes, my lord?”
    â€œThank you for protecting my interests while I was away.”
    A pleased smile touched the solicitor’s face as he bowed again. “It is a pleasure to be of service.” The door closed quietly and Nick was left alone at the window.
    On the brown lawn, the winter wind chased a small swirl of leaves down the gentle slope to the pond. As barren and wasted as it appeared, it was his, and he took satisfaction in the notion.
    A soft knock sounded at the door, and the comte entered. He was dressed for riding, his deep blue coat making his white hair seem brighter, a jaunty lift to his step.
    â€œWhere have you been?” Nick asked. Since the Jeffries ball three days ago, Henri had been in hot pursuit of a widow. Though Nick had not asked, he was certain the woman was blessed with both a fortune and a title, for the comte did nothing that did not progress him further into society.
    Henri crossed to the crackling fire. “I have been riding with the lovely Delphi. Ah, Nicholas, youshould see her! She is—” The comte kissed his fingers to the sky and dropped into a chair, his legs stretched before him, a smile on his face.
    Nick turned to sit at the desk. “So you have been telling me for three days. I’m amazed I didn’t notice this paragon when we attended the Jeffries ball.”
    â€œAh, that is because she has no brilliance of expression. No forward, playful manner. No blinding beauty. None of the things you prize in a woman.” The comte held his hands toward the flames. “She is quality. Very pretty, and quite charming. A shy butterfly who wants to fly like a bird. And I am willing to teach her all she needs to know.”
    â€œHenri, please. I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I’ve a million things to see to this morning, none of which will get done if I must listen to your drivel on an empty stomach.”
    Henri stiffened. “A million things to do! But you cannot! I told Lady Langtry that you—”
    Nick shot a swift look at the comte. “Lady who?”
    â€œLangtry.”
    â€œYour Delphi is the Duchess of Langtry?”
    â€œ Oui . But that should be no surprise. Every day I have told you that