Page 22 of The Viscount's Forgery
She was laughing, her eyes bright as she stood with her friends. How different an expression on her face now from the one thathehad left her with! Heart pounding, he took a moment merely to compose himself and then made his way directly towards her. Nicholas saw the moment she recognized him. Her eyes flicked to him, then pulled away, only to jerk back in an instant. The corners of her eyes rounded, and she licked her lips, murmuring something to her friend who quickly turned her head to look at him. Flushing hot, Nicholas did not stop his steps towards her, stopping only to bow and then look up at her again.
“I apologize for the interruption,” he said, as all five of the ladies present turned their full attention towards him. “Miss Sherwood, I was hoping that you might spare me a minute of your time, even though I am well aware I do not deserve it.”
There came a moment of silence as the ladies looked at each other. Miss Sherwood, however, let her gaze drop to the floor, perhaps considering her response before she answered him. Sweat broke out across Nicholas’ forehead as he waited for her to give him her answer, fearful now that he would not even have the opportunity to apologize.
“Only a moment, Lord Suffolk.” Miss Sherwood spoke clearly, her eyes affixing to his once more. “I cannot spare more than that.”
His relief was so great, it came out in a rush of breath, making some of the other ladies look back at him in surprise.Instead of explaining, however, Nicholas stepped to his right in the hope that Miss Sherwood would follow him, and after a moment, she did. They stayed close to her friends, and Nicholas was quite certain that at least two of them would be able to hear what he had to say, but he did not care. All that was important to him now was speaking his apology to the lady he had injured.
“Miss Sherwood,” he began, feeling as if his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth, “when we last spoke, you were offering me your help as regards the paintings in my house.”
“Yes, that is so.” She did not take her eyes from his, and Nicholas found himself wishing she might, for the sea blue in her eyes made his attention wander from what he wanted to say. His breathing hitched as he struggled to remember precisely what it was he had been saying and what it was she had said in response. Closing his eyes, he found clarity again, aware of a tiny tremor running through him.
“I spoke to you then in a manner which was most unfair, thoughtless, and cruel,” he stated, without softening his words to make himself out to be a little less dreadful than he had been. “I said things which must have caused you a great deal of pain, and for that, I am truly sorry.”
Miss Sherwood did not say anything in response, her expression unchanging, but a gentle glimmer in her eye which Nicholas could not ascertain as to what it might mean.
“I threw aside your kind offer of help,” he continued, when she said nothing. “I showed you no appreciation for your recognition of my painting being a forgery, did not once mention your kindness and consideration in bringing that to my attention.” A shuddering breath ran out of him as his guilt slowly began to soften, inwardly relieved that he had been permitted the time to make her a sincere apology. “Then, instead of accepting your offer of help as I ought, I threw it back at you and declared that I should never want the help of a bluestocking,which was not only disparaging but harsh and injurious.” Rubbing one hand over his face and feeling the heat there, he looked away again. “Miss Sherwood, I can only apologize for my words to you – and my lack of appreciation also. It was wrong of me, and I wish I had not spoken so.”
Miss Sherwood took in a long breath, letting it out slowly as she folded her arms over her chest and then tilted her head, still regarding him with careful eyes. Nicholas swallowed but said nothing, his words at an end and nothing more to be said. Reminding himself that he did not need her to accept his apology but had only been required to make it, he held her gaze steadily and waited.
“A strange thing happened to me yesterday afternoon,” she said, surprising him with this turn of conversation. “My sister, who has long blamed me for the damage caused between herself and Lord Bothwell, who declared to my parents in that moment that I was a bluestocking and who has been very distant with me of late, came to apologize.”
Nicholas shifted on his feet, trying to understand what she meant by this.
“She confessed to me that, when she had shouted to my parents that I was a bluestocking, she had said such a thing out of confusion, fear, and upset. It was not in her heart to do: she had not had any intention of speaking so before then, but in all the tumultuous emotions of that moment, she let herself speak things that she would never have done otherwise.”
With a nod, Nicholas made to open his mouth, only to close it again when Miss Sherwood took a step closer to him, her eyes once more searching his, looking for something within his face. A sweet scent of lavender drew over him, and a fog began to descend on his mind, though he blinked quickly and forced himself to pay attention to everything she was saying.
“I was utterly astonished by her apology,” Miss Sherwood said, more quietly now. “But she explained to me that her emotions had overwhelmed her and she had not meant to speak as she did. Am I to understand, Lord Suffolk, that you would claim the very same thing?”
Relief began to nudge against Nicholas’ heart. “Yes, I would say that is true,” he admitted. “I was overwhelmed by the suggested truth that my painting was a forgery – not only that one, but others also. In addition, I was a little surprised to hear your confession that you were a bluestocking.”
“But you had heard me say such a thing the previous evening,” Miss Sherwood countered, her head still a little tipped to one side. “Why would it come as such a struggle to you the next morning?”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened. He could not tell her that it had been because of what he felt that he had responded so unkindly. He could not admit that it had been because his heart had done all manner of strange things when he had looked into her eyes, could not say that it was because of the unsettling stirrings in his heart. Instead, he spread out his hands. “I think, mayhap, it was simply seeing you again that made the shock of it all return to me. Regardless, Miss Sherwood, I should not have said a word to you in that manner. It was utterly unforgivable.”
The edge of her mouth tipped up lightly. “I suppose it must have been a great struggle to accept that one of your paintings is a forgery. I have been told of just how much value you place in the things you have in your manor house and your townhouse here in London.”
Heat blossomed anew in his face. “That is true, I cannot deny it.”
Miss Sherwood’s smile grew. “You are very good to come and apologize so profusely, Lord Suffolk. I will accept your apology.”
The urge to fall to his knees and thank her was so great, Nicholas felt himself buckling, though he remained standing with an effort. Putting one hand to his heart, he inclined his head towards her. “Thank you, Miss Sherwood.”
“Of course.” Gesturing to her waiting friends, her smile began to dim. “I should return to my friends – the other bluestockings.”
“Wait a moment.” Reaching out, he caught her fingers with his, sending a shockwave up through his arm and over his frame. The shock in her expression was enough to make him drop her hand, though instantly, the urge to take it again burned through him. “I apologize, Miss Sherwood, but there is something more I must say.”
“Oh?”
He had not intended this, had not planned to ask her such a thing, but the desire within him would not be silenced. “Might you come to my townhouse and look over the rest of my paintings?”
Miss Sherwood blinked in surprise. “You wish for my help?”
“Yes, desperately,” he said, surprising himself with his fervor. “You say you know a good deal about art whereas I know very little. I have trusted my man with it, but it seems he has purchased me forgeries!”
The lady frowned. “There is also the possibility that your man may be quite innocent, Lord Suffolk. There are at least two other scenarios that I can see which would result in your forged paintings.”
