Page 8 of Within the Hollow Heart
In return, he offered a wink. “How’s this, then? Something with a sash. We’ll just”—his hands gestured again—“draw it tight where the narrow bits are. As good as a custom fit.”
“My boy, I’ve no idea how you’ve made it to this stage in life without a hint as to how women’s garments work. Is there some reason she cannot come here for a fitting?”
Several, but Nickolas would not be admitting them aloud. Deciding against the more easily misconstrued,It’s a private matter, I’m afraid, and I think it best not to parade her through the halls where my mother might see, he said, “A surprise! I want to gift her something stunning and whisk her off her feet.”
Lady Roth did not appear moved.
“Perhaps you’re familiar with the lady. She’s a clerk’s assistant. In chancery. Dark hair. The eyes of a harmless forest creature, though perhaps not-so-innocuous teeth.”
“Jules,” the tailor guessed.
“There you have it.”
“Pretty, peculiar girl, that one.”
“Precisely.”
“Not your usual type.”
Electing to ignore the remark, he leaned forward. “Can you help me?”
She pressed her lips. “I realize that most of the charges do not belong to you personally, but there remains the matter of settling the family’s account.”
Nickolas’s palms slid together, not gracefully. “My lady, one more favor, if I might. I’d rather this purchase was settled off the books.”
Her gray eyes narrowed. She would know he was hiding it from his mother, but he wasn’t certain if she might guess a reasonable excuse as to why. The truth was out of the question, as it was not reasonable at all.
From the pocket of his vest, Nickolas withdrew a fine gold watch, worth a dozen dresses and matching slippers, then passed it to her. “Will this cover it?”
CHAPTER5
Nickolas’s step was a bit livelier on his way to the chancery. He had a plan. Things were looking up. He was going to find Jules and let her know what he’d done so she might be impressed. No,prepared. So that she might bepreparedto make arrangements for the ball.
“My lord,” a passing boy greeted.
Nickolas thought the boy was the cousin of a man his sister was acquainted with. It was a chore to keep up with all the lords and ladies who moved within the circles moving about his circles. But as a Brigham, he had to. One needed to be certain, in any case, when one happened across society, which warranted respect and which a healthy distance. Nickolas gave a vague, moderately friendly reply and tucked his hands into his pockets as he continued his stride. Every kingsman in the hallway made him want to twitch, but only four or so actually had it out for him. The odds were low of running across the wrong one by chance.
Two kingsmen very much not on that list waited outside the entrance to the chancery—where its doors rose high and majestic, despite that it was stuffed to the gills with musty documents and kept closed from too much light or, truly, any fresh air. He should have brought the woman a flower or a token to lighten the place up. He was off his game. He’d never courted a lady he was not actually courting. Because he wasn’t courting her.
They were engaged.
He missed a step at the thought then straightened, buttoning his coat and smoothing the front before walking through the entryway. Nickolas threw a smile at the kingsman who gave him a look. “New boots.”
The man did not reply. Nickolas cleared his throat quietly and walked on, swallowed up along with the brightness of the castle corridors as his steps carried him into the large, dimly lit, shelf-lined chamber that was the chancery office. Document carts and baskets of scrolls littered the space, long worktables positioned haphazardly throughout. One of the figures bustling about stopped to look at him. “May I help you, my lord?”
The boy was wiry with sandy hair and freckled skin, an air of efficiency practically clinging to his person. Nickolas was fairly certain the boy’s name was Robert; he and the other young man assisted with sorting and filing.
“Ah yes, I’m here for—” Nickolas’s gaze caught on a petite, plainly dressed figure as it froze with the sound of his voice. His lips slid into a wicked smile. “Her.”
Jules turned and faced him, the stack of records in her grip lowering before she placed it firmly on a nearby table. The boy glanced from one to the other but said not a word as he continued his work. Jules closed the distance, her eyes darting once across the chamber before returning to him. “What are you doing here?”
Her tone reminded him that their plan was supposed to remain a secret. “I have news,” Nickolas said. “An invitation, in fact.”
“Could you not have sent a letter?”
His lips pursed, his hand coming to his chest. He had, in fact, not considered it. “There was not much time to spare. I thought it best I let you know right away.”
Beyond her, several rooms back, a dark figure paused inside a narrow doorway—Gideon Alexander, chancellor of Westrende. Nickolas dipped his head in a manner that might be taken as recognition or avoidance, whichever the man preferred. In a low voice, he asked Jules, “Perhaps a garden walk? For privacy.”
