Nicholas drew him away from the others.
He could not delay any longer. He knew, with a clarity he had never felt before, that he had to declare his intentions.
They walked to a private corner of the room, far from the rest of the party, and Nicholas began to speak.
“Lord Crompton,” he said resolutely as the other man’s eyes met his. “I am in love with your daughter.”
Lord Crompton’s eyebrows nearly rose up to his hairline at that confession, but Nicholas would not be stopped now that he had begun.
“I am painfully aware of how little I am worthy of her. These last weeks I have battled with myself as to my own history. You may know of my reputation, and it pains me to admit that much of it is true. I did not realise before meeting Miss Crompton how hollow and meaningless my life before her was. She has given me hope in the darkest of times. I had not even known how dark they were until I beheld her. She is the sweetest woman I have ever met; intelligent, wise, and certain in her ways.”
Lord Crompton was watching him patiently and not interrupting, so Nicholas continued.
“She has changed me for the better. For her and for myself, I would endeavour to be a better man. I wish to earn your respect and hers, but actions speak louder than words. If I can ever deserve her I will be the happiest man in the world. If you can give me this chance, I will spend my life proving it to you, my Lord, and to her. I would ask, therefore, for your permission to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Nicholas stood with bated breath, waiting for his response. Up close, the man was rather intimidating, all bushy hair and an intense gaze that cut right through to his soul.
Robert Crompton said nothing for almost a full minute. He was still unsure how his intention would be received. Lord Crompton cleared his throat and finally replied.
“You have my permission, my Lord. Whatever your past mistakes, there should be more forgiveness for those who wish to change.” His eyes were sad as he said those words, andNicholas wondered if he were thinking of his eldest daughter. “But I cannot give you the true answer you seek.” He held out his hand, and Nicholas shook it enthusiastically. “Only my Clary can tell you whether she believes you worthy, my boy,” he gave a faint smile. “I wish you luck.”
***
As evening fell, the drawing room slowly emptied, but Nicholas could not bring himself to rest. His aunt approached him with a slow step as though wary of coming too close. He looked up at her expression, which was a mixture of worry and understanding.
Nicholas was sitting in an armchair beside the fire and could not imagine rising from his position for several hours.
“Nicholas,” his aunt said gently, “you should get some rest.”
“I cannot rest until I know she is well,” he said darkly, the locket held tight in his closed fist.
“You will weary yourself,” she said softly.
“Well then, I shall be weary,” he said irritably. In answer, she simply kissed the top of his head and left him to his reverie.
The fire before him was banked high, and Nicholas was glad of it. The accursed snow was falling again. He would have had no argument with the softly falling snowflakes until he had seen Clarissa fly through the air as the sleigh slid on the ice.
Perhaps I shall take her to Italy for our honeymoon; he thought blithely before crippling doubt engulfed him again. He was not certain of her response to him and was terrified that every possible objection would be entirely justified.
The fire crackled before him, the hearth a myriad of patterned tiles, and he found himself lost in them as his thoughts circled around his head.
Robert’s words were paramount in his thoughts. He might have all the good intentions in the world and her father’sblessing, but it was still up to Miss Crompton to accept him. He found himself more concerned on that score than he would have been the day before.
Before Lady Wilde had approached him, he was fairly confident of Miss Crompton’s affections. Throughout the events during the Christmas festivities, he had felt her regard for him on many occasions. He had not been certain of it until the treasure hunt when they had spent all those glorious hours together, speaking of every topic imaginable. He had found they had much in common, and she was exceedingly pleasurable company.
He thought too of the moment when he had held her in his arms for the first time when she had almost tumbled from the ladder onto the floor. The memory of the kissing boughs and all the fantasies he had entertained over the preceding days of finally feeling her lips against his added yet more fuel to the fire.
As he contemplated the first time, he had seen her dark brown eyes across the ballroom, he recognized how much he had changed since that time.
In hindsight, he had descended those stairs as a jaded and unhappy individual. He had believed himself contented with his lot. Yet his sole requirement in seeing his aunt and setting foot in England was to see to his father’s estate, visit his sister, and leave as soon as possible.
Returning to that vacuous life now felt impossible. He had so many acquaintances abroad but no true friends. He had not been lying when he told his aunt that she and Rosemary were the only people he truly cared for. Henry could also be added to that list, but at the top of it, was Miss Crompton.
She had awakened a part of him that he thought long dead. Even three years on, his mind would often wander to Victoria throughout the day. He would remember her insincere smiles and her laughing nature. Now that his eyes were fully opened, herecognized that her smiles and laughter were at the expense of everyone else around her.
She had not been a kind or loving woman, and it had taken him a long time to realize how much he had wasted on her. Thinking of her against Miss Crompton was like comparing night and day.
Victoria was all jagged edges and hot-tempered arguments. Clarissa was quiet and still, yet with a sharpness of wit that he had never encountered in another.
