The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers #1)(16)
Author: Kresley Cole

Her father sank back down and exhaled slowly. “Very well. I’ll give her to you then, but you must promise to marry her to a good man.”

“Of course, you fool! If you do as you’re bidden.”

Neither of them knew Nicole was just outside the door. Nor did they know that from as early as Nicole could remember, her mother had instilled in her a powerful lifelong belief. Just as Laurel had been, Nicole must be prepared to fight for control of her own destiny.

Nicole had done the best she could. When her father ordered her to wear a hat and gloves every second she was outside, she minded him. She understood his fierce over-protectiveness and obeyed his fear-driven demand that she learn navigation in case an accident befell him at sea. Learning language after language, having to beg to get the crew to teach her even the mildest of curses—she accepted all that because she was otherwise free. And when the time came for her to leave, she’d had years to plan.

She’d been about to turn twelve when Lassiter declared she was to go to England and live with her grandmother. Nicole wasn’t wholly proud of what she’d done, but she’d been desperate. “Very well, Father,” she’d conceded with a sniff. “I’ll do as you say. But you must know that my only worry is that we would be so far apart. What would happen if you got sick? It might take me months and months to find out. I wouldn’t be there to take care of you. And if something were to happen to me, if I got sick, or hurt, you might not be there .”

That had taken care of any nonsensical talk about finishing school for about five years.

Up until this rainy night, Nicole had thought she’d done so well—she’d sailed continuously for eighteen of her twenty years and had seen the world. But as she gazed out at the docks, oily from the rain, she wondered if it wasn’t all just a matter of time—if she was fooling herself by believing she had power over her own fate. She had been, Nicole decided, and resigned herself to giving up that fight.

Just not quite yet.

When Nicole arrived at the vast Atworth House after nearly sixteen years, she was unexpectedly composed, although the house before her was meant to be daunting. Rich marble steps led to a bold projecting entranceway, flanked by towering scroll-like columns. The wings on each side recessed from the front in too-perfect symmetry. Yet a lush cold-weather garden battled the severe effect by subtly beckoning.

Although she associated this place with painful memories, she made herself remember that her mother had spent much of her youth in this home. Had probably laughed upon these very stairs. She smiled softly at the thought. She was smiling when Chapman, the elderly butler she fondly remembered from her sole visit here, answered the door, and even when he showed her to the salon. Her grandmother awaited her there, sitting beneath a large Palladian window that dominated the room and lit her tasteful furnishings becomingly. It also highlighted her pinched face.

“Good morning, Grandmother,” Nicole intoned politely as she trudged over the dense Brussels rug to face the woman. The dowager was still soberly dressed in black, her collar choking. Unhappiness limned her features. Two pug dogs had risen at Nicole’s arrival and now sauntered back to their place—not at her grandmother’s feet, but under a table across the room. Smart pugs, she thought.

“You’re late,” the dowager snapped, not even asking her to sit.

Nicole had chosen to wear one of the day-dresses her grandmother had sent to her school, hoping to soften the old bird, but obviously it’d take more than a polished appearance to get her within the bounds of civility. Nothing new there. It was as if her grandmother, and this whole house, had been frozen from the time Nicole left until this return.

“I am indeed late,” she responded sweetly, bravely taking a seat across from her.

“Eight years late!” The dowager studied her with a disapproving expression.

Nicole comprehended then that the woman before her, whose dark eyes were so oddly like hers, would make her crawl across glass to get money for her father. But this race would decide their future, so she’d do what she must. “I am very pleased to be able to visit with you—”

“Balderdash! Cut through the frippery, girl, and tell me what you want.”

Chapter 6

From atop his mount, Derek watched Nicole Lassiter absently wind through people on the street. She clutched her cloak tighter to her neck and hiked her thick navy scarf up to her chin to battle the crisp wind whisking over the Thames. Without seeming to notice, she sidestepped a loud man hawking steaming meat pies and an intense young woman imploring her to buy a secondhand coat.

He caught glimpses of her face, and her sad expression made him react with a bothersome intensity. He gathered the reason for her mood, of course. She was walking from the direction of the jail and had probably just learned that her father’s bail had been denied.

Derek had learned this information himself just hours earlier. He’d left Lassiter to stew for the morning but had returned to the constabulary to drop the charges. The constable, a different man from the night before, told him firmly that Lassiter, as an American, would have to be formally arraigned for the crime of assault and battery. Even though Derek did not want to press the charges made against Lassiter, the man told him that they had evidence against him of other crimes and expected him to be jailed for another two weeks. Derek had scrutinized the man and come away with the strong belief that he was lying.

Evidently Lassiter had made some very serious enemies in London, which was to be expected considering the man. But it appeared that Derek had given them the perfect weapon against the American.

Damn it, he didn’t want to think that his strongest competition would be unable to race because Derek had trifled with his daughter. How had he ever mistaken her for a whore in the first place? And recalling the snide comments he’d made just before the fight to Lassiter about his daughter, well, he could understand why the man had gone mad.

It would gall Derek if he won knowing it was over lesser competition; so even though it was unpalatable to aid Lassiter in any way, he’d nevertheless offered very healthy bribes to have him freed. But with no success. Even with Derek’s clout and money, the official never wavered, which led him to believe that somebody very high up had decided Lassiter would stay in jail.

The situation wasn’t fair, and though Derek knew well that life rarely was, he wanted to help Nicole. He also found it strangely important that she not think he had something to do with this.

Prodding his horse forward, he maneuvered to flank her and cleared his throat, but she was lost in thought and continued walking. He noted with satisfaction that her troubled expression was rapidly dimming, replaced by one that could only be termed mutinous.