Page 7 of Within the Hollow Heart
Nickolas had once believed the same. He might give anything to go back.
“I’m here to lobby for naked bathing pools,” Redmahn announced as he leaned back into his chair.
William made a grunt of disgust. “Not public ones, please. The last thing we need is a bunch of… Saints, that reminds me of the time Lady Carvell went—”
At Nickolas’s sharp look, William’s words cut off. “By the wall, Nicky, what have I said to upend you?”
“Don’t call me that.”
His laugh was loud enough to draw looks from the gathering spectators. “Certainly. I’ll address you only as the honorable Lord Brigham henceforth. Saints, you’re a mess today. What’s happened? Some skirt have you riled?”
“Would youpleasekeep it down,” Nickolas hissed. “A little decorum would not kill you, would it?”
William shrugged. “It might. Best not risk it.”
“Speaking of skirts,” Ander remarked at a more acceptable volume. “The midsummer ball hits at next week’s end. Who can we expect to see on your arm?”
The ball. Nickolas had forgotten. It was a masked affair, another tradition. In days past, a king would mingle with the guests, and not a soul could be certain which was he. No king currently sat on the throne—until one came of age, the council was ruling in his stead—but the ball carried on without him. Every person of status would attend.
It was the perfect chance to introduce Jules to Lord Beckett. The man loathed frippery and never failed to wear the same mask that was no more than a thin strip of fabric barely covering one eye. Nickolas could parade Jules in, right in front of the entire kingdom, and never have to answer about who she truly was.
Redmahn jabbed an elbow into Nickolas’s side. “Who is she you’re thinking so laboriously of?”
Nickolas’s gaze shot to his friend’s.
Redmahn laughed. “Oh, a lady has you in her clutches, doesn’t she? Whoever she is.”
Nickolas shook off the accusation. “I’m only considering the tasks I’ve to complete this week. Nothing more.”
Ander’s chuckle was low. “Yes, the contemplation of a busy man. We can all see that.”
The gavel banged as the assembly was called to order, and Nickolas was saved from further inquiry. Before him, men and women of the kingdom sat in audience, hearing the concerns and plans that Nickolas was meant to be part of. All he could think of was the ball. He would have to make arrangements quickly, but Juleshadsaid the bargain would be over as soon as their complications were sorted. By the next moon, she’d told him. Nickolas could do that. He could take her to a masked gala and let her stay on his arm. His lips drew into a frown, and Nickolas slid his palm over his mouth to keep his friends from noticing. Jules had not appeared to possess the wardrobe for such an event. He could arrange one for her. It would be no trouble.
Besides, the cost of a fine gown would be little expense given that their bargain had saved his hide. The last thing Jules needed to be concerned with was procuring a dress with only days’ notice. Being a Brigham afforded him privileges in such matters. He would handle it. He glanced at the grand clock marking the hour. Right after assembly, Nickolas would visit the tailor. And from there, chancery was only a short walk away. She would be thrilled he’d taken initiative, that their bargain would be resolved so expediently.
He needed only to make certain his mother was not aware. Jules would require a particular sort of gown, one that made her seem like the type of lady he might usually have on his arm—but no. She wasn’t. He didn’t think a gown could do that. Saints, her eyes alone would give her away.
A shout sounded from near the rostrum, snapping Nickolas’s attention back to the room, the lords arguing over a tax matter. His gaze roamed the crowd. Far below, across a sea of formal dress, Lord Carvell stared Nickolas down.
Nickolas’s lips pressed tighter. The man’s look seemed to promise revenge. Nickolas had nothing but the vow of a small woman to save him. Claps and shouts rose through the chamber, but Nickolas and Carvell were still. He would not get up, would not dismiss himself early and let Carvell win.
The Brighams held their ground. That didn’t mean they didn’t have the sense not to be caught out in an argument before every peer in the realm, though, so the moment the proceedings were through, Nickolas slipped out of the chamber.
* * *
Nickolas’s tailorwas a woman sharp only in wit. She had a pleasingly soft manner and person and could be relied upon to dress in a palette of grays that complemented the shade of both her hair and her eyes. She was a woman, he felt, who appeared as if she might pass embraces out as easily as others might offer platitudes. Nickolas adored her.
“Lady Roth.” He bowed grandly, despite that she would never fall for such a thing as easy charm. “So lovely of you to meet with me on short notice.”
Her smile was wry. “Lord Brigham, I was never notified at all.”
He chuckled. “Alas, here I am. Can you spare a moment for me?”
Gesturing that he follow, she led him past a half dozen seamstresses at work on fine suits and gowns. They arrived into a private room scattered with bolts of silk, where she indicated for Nickolas to take a seat on one of the lush fabric chaises. Lady Roth gave him her full attention.
“I need a gown for the midsummer ball.” At the frown she gave him, he explained, “I know it’s not much time, but I hope you can help me. Something blue, I think. Not too shimmery. And a mask that covers nearly all of a face. No feathers, please. That’s merely a personal preference, not owing to any real requirements on your part. It’s for a woman about…” He held his hands in an approximation of Jules’s width and height.
Lady Roth gave him a flat look.
