Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord by Sarah MacLean

Author:Sarah MacLean [MacLean, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: 9781405511872
Google: RUZWt16F7sYC
Amazon: 0061852066
Barnesnoble: 0061852066
Goodreads: 7781699
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2010-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

* * *

Nick had just tucked in his shirt in preparation for dinner when the knock sounded on the door to his bedchamber. He snapped around at the sound, immediately on edge, then shook off the response.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he had been on edge since his afternoon with Isabel … and that he was eagerly awaiting the evening ahead.

But then he had little interest in being honest with himself.

A second knock sounded, and he turned in time to see James poke his head through the narrow space between the door and its seat.

“I hear you are joining us for dinner.”

Nick raised a brow in response. “I had planned to, yes.”

James nodded solemnly. “Good.”

The boy did not move from his position, half inside, half outside the room. Instead, he watched as Nick turned back to the looking glass and lifted a comb to tame his sable curls.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke, until, finally, Nick said, “Would you like to come in, Lord Reddich? ”

The words unfroze the boy, and he scurried into the room, closing the door firmly behind him. “I would. Please.”

Nick hid his smile, instead watching his visitor in the mirror as he finished his toilet. He adjusted the sleeves of the linen shirt he wore before he smoothed its body along his torso. Lifting his cravat from where it lay on a nearby chair, he said, “Was there something you wanted?”

James shook his head, distracted by the sure, strong movements of Nick’s hands as he began the intricate collection of movements that would result in an elaborately knotted cravat. “How do you know how to do that?”

Nick paused. “I’ve known how to do it for a very long time.”

James crept closer, transfixed. “But … how did you learn?” Nick thought for a moment. “I suppose my valet taught me.”

“Oh.” There was silence as James considered the answer. “I shall have to learn to do that before I go to school, I would think.”

Nick turned. “Would you like me to teach you?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Would you mind very much?”

“Not at all.” Nick removed the strip of linen from his person and placed it around James’s neck. Turning the boy to the looking glass, he walked James through the movements until the cravat was a fair approximation of the knot Nick had created earlier.

James leaned into the mirror, considering the neckpiece from several angles as Nick moved away to don the rest of his dinner attire. “It looks very well.”

There was something in the boy’s pride that tugged at Nick’s memory. While he might not remember how he learned to tie a cravat, he did remember the powerful desire for approval, for acceptance as a man.

When Nick had been James’s age, his mother had deserted them—absconding in the middle of the night with little but the clothes on her back, leaving twin sons and a desolate husband in her wake. In the weeks following, his father had disappeared,

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