if he would sleep for a full day and hoped nothing haunted him.
“Have you ever given thoughts to what you will do when this is all over?” David asked. “I am thinking to make myself available on the marriage mart.”
Nicolas dropped his hand and faced his friend. “You, marry?”
“I know, I can hardly believe it myself,” David said dryly, his gaze watchful upon Nicolas. “I am twenty-eight. I’ve tupped enough. Time to give the old ball and chain a go.”
Nicolas had lived so long in the pain and anguish of loss and guilt, in the need for vengeance, that he had not given a thought to the future. Not even when his mother had urged him to find a lady of quality and settle down had he been diverted from his purpose.
The dowager marchioness was aghast at his reputation, and at least every three months, sent him a letter beseeching him to mend his wild, wicked ways by selecting a fine girl of quality to marry.
Because in the ton, marriages solved everything.
Nicolas had allowed no distraction and no weaknesses since those he hunted had enough power to cause him considerable loss if they ever discovered him.
As if to mock him, a wide-eyed stare behind round spectacles swam in his thoughts. He ruthlessly suppressed her image and the arousal she had stirred to life. It was a delicate balance, but one he had maintained for years, and he would not misplace his footing now. “Whenever this is over, I am leaving England for a couple of years.”
“Leave? And go where?”
“Sailing.”
“That’s it? Sailing?”
“Yes.” That was one of the only pastimes he allowed himself. Every now and then, he would head to Dover, take out his yacht, and sail, feeling the wind behind him, the sun or rain on his face, and an inexplicable sense of freedom hovering on the horizon.
“You are a madman,” David said with a laugh.
Nicolas smiled. “Miss me, will you?”
David snorted. Nicolas laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder and then made his way out from the revelry and enticement of the club. It had been an unending day and an even longer night. He wanted to go home and fall into bed. And he wanted a deep sleep, one undisturbed by memory or guilt or one of the most painful things he would ever have to do—destroy the wolf.
Chapter Seven
The rumor would have started last night and spilled into society like fire on dry kindling. It was early yet, but those who had taken their obligatory stroll to be seen in Hyde Park would have stopped to gossip, and afternoon calls would be made scandalously early in drawing rooms to spread this latest ondit.
The bedchamber Nicolas St. Ives, Marquess of Rothbury had been seen sneaking from was that of Lady Maryann, a desperate wallflower, the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Musgrove.
“I am silly—no one would be that bold,” she said to herself as she hovered in the hallway leading to the dining room. “More likely they will say St. Ives’s mysterious lady is ‘one Lady M, daughter to the earl of M.’”
Then the ton would use that affirmation along with the whispers at the ball and drawing room to condemn her.
Squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin, she entered the dining room. Her father, mother, and brother were already seated and eating. From the lack of laughing and talking, Maryann gathered they were already aware of the rumors. Her mother always took an early morning ride in Hyde Park, and many would have been only too happy to drop their sly hints and suppositions.
Her mother’s light green eyes lit up in reserved welcome. She still retained a youthful bloom in her cheeks, and often dyed her hair to cover the smattering of gray that would otherwise appear at her temples. Her father sometimes remarked on how her mother retained her slender, elegant carriage despite having birthed two children.
Going to the side table laden with food, Maryann selected a plate and filled it with sweet buns and slices of succulent ham. Everyone watched as she took her place by the table, and to her shame she could not meet their eyes. She reached for a bun and bit into it instead, savoring the honeyed and cinnamon flavor bursting on her tongue.
Her papa cleared his throat, and she lifted her gaze to look at him.
His was more curious than angry. “It seems you are also aware of this rumor going about.”