My Merry Marquess (Wallflower's Christmas Wish #3) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,38

and a basket of bread.

Jack narrowed his eyes at Nick. “You’re so bloody knowledgeable about women and their dispositions and whatnot. I’ve done damn near everything—wooed her, talked to her—by God. And it’s not as though she’s immune to my charms.” He threw back a healthy swallow of the ale. “Women are impossible.”

Nick knew exactly what the trouble was. “Did you try telling her you love her?”

Which only earned him a deeper scowl.

Dash went on as though Jack’s troubles were easily surmountable. “I’m not going to wait around before making Noelle my duchess. I’ve got to get my hands on a bloody special license. If only…”

Nick set his ale back on the table. “What?”

“Her father is a wastrel.”

“Damned Everly. The blighter has Holly all twisted up over what she needs in order to marry.” Jack stared at the plate he’d piled high.

“You are going to have to tell her you love her, you know.” Nick shook his head. But Jack and Dash had touched on something that he had been contemplating. “Eve struggles with her father’s abandonment as well.”

“Eve?” Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Noelle’s oldest sister,” Dash supplied.

“I knew it! She’s the minx who brought the pie, isn’t she?”

Nick nodded.

Almost as though he’d summoned her with his words, Eve peeked her head around the corner tentatively.

She seemed reluctant to enter so he rose and met her at the door. Knowing his friends were looking on curiously, Nick stepped outside and drew her to a private alcove off the foyer.

“How is it you look even more beautiful today than you did last night?” Not giving her a chance to answer, he claimed her lips for a brief kiss before realizing she was holding a dish between them.

Her eyes shifted to the door and then down to her hands. “Would you mind very much if we postponed dinner tonight?” When she lifted her lashes to meet his eyes, she was smiling apologetically.

“But—”

“I was going to tell my sisters—about you—about us.” Her expression softened just enough to hold off his worry. “But Holly is not at all happy after what happened with Lord Tidemore. What with Noelle in raptures over the duke, I didn’t have the heart…”

“What did that codpiece do?” Nick growled.

Eve’s eyes widened but before Nick could apologize for his language, she dropped her gaze again. “It’s what he hasn’t done, really. The codpiece, Lord Tidemore—that is—is being rather obtuse. Words are important to my sister, and he is unwilling to give them to her.”

Nick couldn’t keep himself from touching her chin. “And what is important to you?”

She blinked at first, as though surprised by his question but then tilted her head thoughtfully. “Words matter, but not as much as everything else.” She stared at the top button of his shirt and seemed to lose herself for a moment. “My mother promised us she was going to get better and then she died. My father told us he loved us and then sent us away.” She shook her head. “It’s not as though we can control all that happens, though, is it?”

Fear swept through him. Eve loved him, He loved Eve. But she was still afraid. Words would never be enough. Could he possibly alter her view of love? Perhaps if his plan succeeded.

“I brought you these.” Eve stepped back to extend the cloth-covered dish. “A pie.” She smiled. “And Noelle sent ginger crisps for the duke. Holly said that if Lord Tidemore was expecting vanilla cakes, he would be sorely disappointed.” And then she shrugged. “I think this ought to be enough, don’t you?”

Nick wanted to show her love in a manner that would leave no doubt. “Come upstairs with me?”

But she was shaking her head. “I promised my aunt I’d return shortly. My sisters and I haven’t been as close to one another this past year… we’ve drifted apart… so we’ve promised one another that we will spend what remains of the day together. Aunt Tannenbaum has suggested we locate the Christmas decorations in her attic and go through them to decide what is still usable. She said many of them were made by my mother.”

Nick was happy that she could find such mementos, but he was disappointed that he couldn’t be alone with her—that he couldn’t spend the day proving to her that they were going to be happy together.

“I love you, Eve.” He had to say it again, despite what she’d just told him.

“I love you, Nicholas.”

“I was about to send Mr. Clark over to the inn to collect