betrothal when you leave here tomorrow, I will write a letter to that effect. Then if you would be kind enough to let Rhys and Poppy know to come and fetch me, this will be over for you.”
“Will it be over for you as well?” He sat on the edge of the chair like he might leap up at any moment.
“You shouldn’t trouble yourself about me. This was all a terrible, foolish mistake. It was unfair of me to try to drag information from you, which you do not wish to share. My stupid need to please my parents kept me from refusing you from the start, and then my curiosity and attraction muddied the waters. I got so caught up in finding out who you are, I mistreated you. For that I am truly sorry.” Faith rose to say good night. The exhausted pup gazed up at them, sad faced.
Jumping to his feet, Nick met her between the two chairs. “If you are leaving because the idea of my jaded past frightens you, I understand. If you wish to call off to save yourself from a man whom you cannot like, this too I can accept.” He ran his hand from her shoulder to her elbow as light as a butterfly’s wing. “However, if you are leaving because you think I dislike you, or that I am still angry, I would beg you to stay.”
Rumple jumped up to see what the fuss was about and kept close to Faith.
Faith struggled to draw breath. Nick’s closeness made her head spin and her stomach quiver in a most pleasant way. “I’m not afraid of you, Nick.”
“Good.” His smile was sweet, though sadness still touched his eyes. “Because I would never harm you, Faith.”
She wanted to seem worldly, but her voice quivered. “If I stay, I’m going to ask you questions you won’t want to answer.”
“I know.” He held her elbow with the lightest touch and his thumb caressed the sensitive inside skin.
Longing for more of his touch, she cupped his cheek. “Will you tell me about your past?”
“Probably not, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you about myself.” He chuckled.
Maybe it would be enough.
Chapter 5
Nick was a complete fool. He’d been so angry when he’d found Faith alone at Parvus, he nearly road out into the storm. Sitting with her in the salon and hearing why she had done it all, he longed for more time with her.
She sighed. “Perhaps you might tell me what you plan to do with your time now that you have returned to London?”
Lord, she was a better diplomat than many in the service whom he’d known. “I have several investments that have gone unattended during my absence. I’ve spent the past few months sorting through papers and studying accounts.”
“Will you be staying in England, or do you plan to travel again?” Faith kept her tone steady, but her eyes shone with intelligence and a scheme.
Knowing she was trying a new way to discover his past, he still couldn’t muster any animosity. Her persistence was amusing and oddly endearing. “If things remain calm on the Continent, I was considering a trip next year to see if my investors have survived.”
“Wouldn’t penning a letter be easier?” Her gaze was shrewd.
“Perhaps.” He laughed. “But not as much fun.”
Faith nibbled on her thumbnail and narrowed her eyes. “I have surmised through my investigation that you were in France on behalf of the Crown. Can you at least confirm that?”
It was a slippery business to give half information. Still, he didn’t wish to lie and he hated the idea of ending the evening. “My capacity was unofficial.”
She stared him down, her lips twisting unhappily. “The Wallflowers and I have further speculated that you worked in some kind of espionage. It would explain your reluctance to impart any information.” When he didn’t react she continued. “The real problem is not knowing on behalf of which government you worked. I can wish it was our own Crown, but that does not mean that was the case. Are you an English patriot, Nick?”
His heart pounded. What a clever woman she was. She and her Wallflower friends had learned or assumed a great deal. Now she asked a question that he could answer without lying. “I am a great patriot to the country of my birth.”
She cocked her head. “Were you born in England?”
A guffaw overcame him. “I was. In Hertfordshire, to be specific.”
“Well, that is good news. Can you tell me one thing you did while serving the Crown?”
“There is a great deal of assumption lining your question, Faith.” He steadied his breath. Instinct told him to run, fight, or hide when faced with an interrogation.
“Perhaps, but my question stands.” She was even more lovely when she smiled.
He shifted forward in his chair and lowered his voice. “Not much of what I did while abroad fills me with pride.”
Following his lead, she sat forward too. It brought them close enough to touch, but she didn’t reach out for him. “Was it all bad? Was there not one thing you are proud of?”
It was painful how fervently he desired her touch, but he would not take what was not offered. She deserved better than him, he knew. Perhaps it was that fact that had sent him into such a rage over her spying on him.
“You will not answer?” Deep sorrow in her eyes, melted his resistance.
Searching through the plunder of his memories, he grasped for a tale he wouldn’t be ashamed to tell her. “There was an abbey set afire in a small French village. The nuns and several orphans were trapped inside. I remember the smoke thick and choking as it poured from every window. Three nuns yelling, in French, from a third-floor balcony were surrounded by six crying girls. People ran in every direction to avoid falling embers as the roof caught fire.
“I thought of my assignment, and the consequences of being late or failing altogether. I knew I would never live with myself if I didn’t try to help them. In the stables I found a length of rope and draped it over my neck and one arm. The mortar was old around sharp gray stone. I dug my fingers into the crevices and scaled up the building.
“Once inside, the heat bombarded me. I tied off the rope to the balcony rail and a metal sconce embedded in the mortar near the door. I told the nuns to pray it would hold. Two at a time, the girls wrapped their arms around my neck and I climbed down with them. One nun ventured down on her own. I went back and took one more.
“My energy spent, I could hardly stand, let alone go back for the last nun. Yet I gripped the rope. A farm boy of maybe eighteen, took the line from my hand and climbed to rescue the final nun.” He could still feel the pain of his overextended lungs. “The Spanish abbess had been killed and the building set afire by French troops as an example of what happens to traitors. The boy and I hid the nuns and their wards in the woods until the French army moved on.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You were a hero.”
“Not to my superiors, who chided me for missing my…” He hesitated. “Appointment.”
With a strong touch, she reached out and clasped his hand. “To three nuns and six children who were innocent, that day you were their hero.”
“I suppose that is something.” He held tight to her small, delicate hand.
“I think it is everything.” Faith shivered, turned her head, and looked out the window.
“What is it?” He followed her gaze, but saw nothing but snow and darkness.
“I suppose it’s nothing, but I’ve lately had the strangest feeling someone is watching me. I felt it first when we were in the garden at Mr. Arafa’s home, then several times in London the week that followed, and just now.” Faith rose and walked to the window before tugging the drapes closed.
Nick