Once Upon a Wallflower

Nicholas watched as Mira’s fiery indignation congealed into mortification, and anger rushed through him in a hot, wet wave.

Slowly, he rose to his feet.

“You have gone too far, Jeremy. How dare you speak that way of a lady?”

“Hah! And who are you to dictate how a lady should be treated?” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his palms on the dining table, his stance menacing despite the fact that he was several inches shorter than Nicholas. “At least I do not kill them.”

“No,” Nicholas responded. “No, you merely insult them, treat them with utter disrespect. You may not be a murderer, but neither are you a gentleman. You shall make your apologies. Now.” He did not raise his voice, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

Jeremy flushed to the roots of his tawny hair, and a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I do not take my marching orders from you, sir. Besides, aren’t you the advocate of plain speech? I only spoke the truth. Miss Fitzhenry,” he indicated Mira with a toss of his head, “Miss Fitzhenry does not have the defenses to handle the likes of you. Miss Mira Fitzhenry is a spinster, a poor relation being foisted off on our family because the Fitzhenrys have the good sense not to trust their daughter to your care. And Miss Mira Fitzhenry surely must be grateful for whatever crumb of affection you throw her way because, murderer or not, you are her first and only suitor,” Jeremy concluded, with a telling glance down at Bella Fitzhenry, the obvious source of his intelligence.

Nicholas clenched his hands into tight fists, his arm flexing back as he resisted the urge to swing at his brother right there in the dining room.

But then, he looked at Mira. Her gaze was imploring, her face a stiff mask of horror.

“Please,” she begged quietly, through lips that barely moved. “Please just let it pass.”

Mira cast a sidelong glance at Bella, and the look of abject misery Nicholas saw on her face made his gut clench. Suddenly he understood. Mira believed what Jeremy had said. Not just that her aunt and uncle had attempted to wiggle out of their deal with Blackwell by offering Mira instead of Bella, but also that he should feel cheated and that she was lucky he had not yet publicly renounced her.

The realization made so many things so very clear.

Mira turned her attention back to Nicholas. “Please,” she said again. “Please.”

The look of disdain on Jeremy’s face almost moved Nicholas to act, to accept the boy’s challenge and have done with it, but he could not ignore Mira’s entreaty.

Nicholas took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He shifted his weight, both to ease the pressure on his left leg and to adopt a more relaxed stance.

“Miss Fitzhenry is, as usual, the voice of reason. I have no wish to kill my baby brother,” his lips twisted in a smile to sharpen the barb, “and I am certain Jeremy is deeply sorry to have spoken so rashly and so ill of Miss Fitzhenry. Perhaps it would be best to let this unfortunate incident pass and allow everyone present to regain their composure before taking action we might regret.”

Nicholas turned the full force of his gaze on Mira, offering her a slow, deliberate nod of his head to show that he backed down only in deference to her. She returned his gesture with a grateful nod of her own, but she still looked as though she were about to shatter.

Mira stood carefully, and turned to drop a short curtsy to Beatrix. “My lady,” she said, her voice flat and distant, “if you will excuse me, I am feeling quite unwell. I believe I should like to retire.” She did not wait for Beatrix’s permission, but rather turned and walked away, her spine held stiff, her head high.

After watching her disappear into the hallway, Nicholas addressed the table at large.

“She is mine now,” he said with grim deliberateness, the truth of the statement resonating deep within him. “You would all do well to remember that in the future. From this point forward, when you speak ill of Miss Fitzhenry or treat her with disrespect, I will consider it a personal affront. Miss Fitzhenry may not fight back, but I assure you all that I do.”

He focused his gaze first on Jeremy, then on his father. Blackwell stared back unflinchingly, a spark of interest in his eyes. Some rough beast was stirring to life in his father’s mind, some new machination was taking shape. Though Nicholas could not fathom what Blackwell was thinking, the light in his eyes raised the hair on the back of Nicholas’s neck.