Winter's Kiss (Howertys #3)

Chapter 6: Desperate Measures

The ball was about as exciting as a sack of grains. Nick refilled her glass from the punch bowl. It was already her third of the evening and she should probably slow down. Why had she been so excited about coming to London and having a Season? It was nothing but dull people and dreary parties where no one wanted to discuss anything more exciting than the latest gossip, and possibly the weather.

As a young girl, she'd discussed their future Seasons with her sister Rain who was only a year her senior, and her perceived version of what it would be like was a far cry from the reality of it. Perhaps she wasn't the social butterfly her sister was. Rain had been wildly successful during her Seasons, and one of the most coveted young ladies. That she didn't marry until her second Season definitely was not due to a lack of suitors.

Taking a sip of the fruit punch, Nick watched the visitors in her brother's house as they milled about, chatted and danced. What she wouldn't give to be back in the countryside. Either back home at her brother's estate, Davenhall, or her newly acquired one. Anywhere that wasn't here. The room was hot and stifling, a combination of a hot May and too many people gathered indoors. She could think of a lot of things she'd rather be doing than attending yet another ball. And it hadn't even been a fortnight. Rain would laugh at her if she discovered how miserably boring she found it.

Turning her head, she came face to face with another reason her Season was off to a rocky start. Henry White, Lord Wyndon. She lifted her glass towards him in a mock salute and was rewarded with a scowl.

"Have you considered my proposal?" he asked without preamble.

"You mean your blackmail?" She scoffed.

He shrugged. "If you wish to use such an unpleasant word, then yes."

She wanted to stick her tongue out at him but reminded herself that she was a mature, landowning woman now. She was above such things.

"I can think of several unpleasant words I'd like to use about you." Maybe not entirely above such things.

There was a spark in his hazel eyes, but she couldn't tell if it was caused by dark amusement or anger. "All I ask is that you think about my offer."

"Offer? Henry, might I remind you that—" She glanced around to see how close they were to other guests, and lowered her voice a notch to ensure no one else could hear. "Might I remind you, that you threatened to lie to my brother if I don't agree to marry you. In what world could that ever be considered an offer and not blackmail?"

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Blackmail is just such an ugly word."

"Then don't do the action," she snapped. Realising her grip on the glass was too tight, she moved it to the other hand and flexed her fingers.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult?" He sounded exasperated rather than angry, and she could do little but stare at him.

"I'm the difficult one?" An elderly matron huffed at Nick's raised voice, so she forced herself to calm down. "We've been friends a long time, Henry. I've never seen you in a romantic way and I could have sworn you've never thought of me like that either."

"Don't presume to know my feelings," he replied coolly.

They had spent their summers together when she visited her uncle's estate in Devon since Henry's family estate bordered it. The past two years while she'd resided with Uncle Ben, they had grown even closer, but until recently there had been no sign of any interest in her. So when he'd proposed, she'd not reacted in the best way possible. No man appreciated being laughed at when proposing. Even she knew that much.

To think they'd gone from laughingly discussing what they would do once they met in London for the Season to this should have been impossible. But here they were. Blackmail. Taking another sip of her punch, she regarded her friend—former friend?—over the rim of the glass. It wasn't as if he had the looks of an ogre to chase women off. While she wasn't attracted to him, she wasn't unaware that he was a relatively handsome man with his slightly curly brown hair and hazel eyes. Combined with his title, Earl of Wyndon, he should have no trouble finding an unsuspecting young lady to court.