Lydia watched him walk away with conflicting emotions. She admired his strength and confidence. He moved and spoke like the world was his to do with as he pleased. Well, he was a noble, though she did not know his title, she was sure he was told from birth that the world was his play ground. His arrogance showed it.
She was also saddened by how he quickly disregarded her and angry at herself for throwing away a life of luxury with no worries. Granted, she would be giving away her most precious possession to a man who wanted nothing but her body, but there would be greater benefits given in exchange—money, security and one she lusted for most, his body in return. She could stand being his mistress; she most surely would have enjoyed it.
But what would happen once he found a wife? Being a married man's mistress was something she would never agree to. She would have to leave him.
The thought made her heart ache.
She laughed. A few hours in his company and she was attached, mourning the loss of what could have been, what was never hers. She wasn't mourning his loss, just the loss of what he could have given her. She shook her head. What was she thinking? The cad had just shot Tom and then had the audacity to—to spank her and threaten her with another! Hell would freeze over before that happened!
Lydia never got attached to a man, or anyone else.
"Damn it, woman! Help me up!"
Tom's bellow drew her attention. She quickly moved to him and draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled him up. "How bad is it?"
He groaned from the pain as Lydia helped him into the carriage. "He grazed me all right; right to the bone. I think he chipped my rib. I thought nobles fought with swords and not pistols!"
Lydia chuckled. She was sure his pride hurt more than his wound. Tom wasn't just a footman otherwise she would have no need to carry two blades—one hidden and the other easily accessible—on her person whenever she was around him like she did with others. She was protecting herself from her protector.
She was worried he would go after the Englishman but that would only draw the law's attention to him, something he went to great lengths to avoid.
"Well, Tom, we've both learnt a lesson tonight."
He scowled and snapped, "What?"
"Never underestimate an Englishman." She closed the carriage door and climbed up onto the driver's seat. "And, as for me, I need to stay away from that particular Englishman."
That was easily said than done if he meant to be at the palace during her nights of work. She would just have to ignore him and hope he would leave America soon. Without him on the same continent, she would gain control of her senses again and her life would resume its normal manner.
That thought made her chest tighten.
Shit!
Damn the Englishman and all the uncertain and unfamiliar emotions he provoked!
*****
Nicholas stomped up the steps to the mansion in a foul temper. Sated, yes but still in a temper.
He was still shocked by Wildcat's boldness—her stupid attempt to play him for a fool and challenge him. In fact, he had no remorse for shooting Tom—he just wished he'd done more than graze him.
He reached the closed door with every intention of pushing it open and slamming it shut, allowing his anger to echo throughout the mansion and warn all to let him be. He was in no mood for company. He needed to retreat into his solitude and let the fire of his rage settle down.
That rage had led him to shoot a man—he was lucky. The last man who'd dared to face it could not attest to the same luck.
But alas, Lincoln was there to ruin his sounding alarm, quickly opening the door and greeting him with a bow.
"Milord, I trust your night was entertaining."
Nicholas stopped, turned his head to face him and responded with a low growl.
This was why you preferred to give a warning!
Entertaining? Ha! At the expense of his own ego! He should have strangled that... tart! He couldn't call her a whore because she wasn't one, oh, but he had a few more that would suit her perfectly.
"Do yourselves a favour and warn all to stay clear of me until instructed otherwise!" he ordered through gnashing teeth.
Lincoln took a step back with a stunned gaze. His mouth opened to respond but Nicholas warned him against it with one stilling look.
"If we are all to survive this apocalypse, do as the man says, Lincoln," Wynn advised as he walked past Nicholas.
Nicholas grunted—he despised the phrase. He got it at Oxford when he let his temper get the better of him and he beat two boys he found bullying a younger boy smaller in size to unconsciousness. It was right after he received his mother's letter informing him of his father's indiscretion, again, but this was worse.
Shaking off the crushing feeling the memory brought, he stomped away, quickening his strides and taking the steps two at a time to reach his room faster. He banged his door shut and went for the decanter on his table close to the window.
He couldn't understand why he let that witch provoke his temper so. Mayhap, because he was ready to offer her all she desired if she agreed to be his mistress. Hell, she had agreed to it until he revealed her secret.
He'd watched Wildcat's desire for him dance in her eyes like a new flame—unsure of what she's asked but determined to have it like it was a once in a life time event.
Her virgin excitement spurred his own. He wasn't that much of a rake to deflower a woman and leave her to her own fate. If she were a lady, he would be required to marry her as a gentleman should. But even though she wasn't, he would keep her under his protection, and he also was not in the habit to deny a woman—though he always made sure they weren't virgins.
But Wildcat, he would have been her first and though he couldn't marry her for the nature of her work and lack of high birth, he would have protected her until the night he claimed his wife.
He was a rake, determined to enjoy his freedom in the many willing beds of the women—of all class except married ones—in England but he would not be faithless to his wife and family once the shackles of marriage were on his ankles.
But he was tired of the different faces that only showed him false affection just to get more coin for their service. He wanted something constant, and a mistress would do because he was not ready for marriage. But not anyone would do; he realised that after he met Wildcat. He wanted someone, who possessed fire, arrogance and defiance. A woman who would not only entertain him in bed but also with conversation.
Nicholas did not give a damn that it was a popular occurrence for married men to keep mistresses. Bertha was his mother and he demanded respect on her behalf!
He poured himself another glass of pot. He liked it better when he was in the navy.
He had joined straight from Oxford and bought his commission as high naval officer. He was too disgusted with his father to go home. He couldn't
