Nicola and the Viscount Read Online Free PDF Page A

thus revived him.
    â€œNi-Nicola,” the Milksop stammered now, staring at her as if she, too, had grown a second head. “I…I…”
    Since it seemed unlikely she was going to get anything sensible out of Harold, Nicola turned toward her guardian and said politely, “Not that I am anything but delighted to see you, Lord Renshaw, but I am due to leave for a garden party shortly.”This was a lie, as the garden party was not to start for several hours, but as Nicola supposed the Grouser had never been invited to a garden party in his life, she doubted he would know what time they usually began. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
    Lord Renshaw had put away his handkerchief. He cleared his throat several times before saying, “Oh, yes. Yes. Well, you see, Nicola, something rather wonderful has happened.”
    â€œReally?” Nicola raised her eyebrows and looked from Lord Renshaw to his heir. She could not imagine what sort of event Lord Renshaw would consider wonderful, but considering how dreadfully boring he was, she supposed he was only going to tell her that there was a sale on merino wool at Grafton House. “And what would that be, my lord?”
    And then Lord Renshaw did something so out of his normal character that Nicola, in her shock, quite forgot to keep her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. That was because, for the first time in all the years she’d known him, the Grouser actually smiled.
    â€œWe’ve had an offer, my dear,” he said. The smile was not a very good one. It was almost like a puppet smile, as if someone unseen above Lord Renshaw’s head were pulling invisible threads connected to the sides of his mouth, causing them to turn upward, instead of down. It was, in fact, a rather frightening smile. Nicola found that she wished the Grouser hadn’t attempted it at all.
    Still, she asked gamely, “An offer, my lord? Whatever do you mean?”
    â€œWell, for the abbey, of course.” The smile, to Nicola’s horror, grew even broader. “An offer to purchase Beckwell Abbey.”

CHAPTER THREE
    â€œBeckwell Abbey isn’t for sale.”
    That was how Nicola had replied to her guardian’s extraordinary statement that he had had an offer on her home. Beckwell Abbey isn’t for sale.
    It was a simple statement, but a true one. Thinking back on it, as she danced with the God that evening at Almack’s, Nicola couldn’t imagine how she could have put it plainer. Beckwell Abbey isn’t for sale. End of conversation.
    Except of course it hadn’t been. Because the Grouser had gone on and on, explaining that Nicola was mad not even to consider the offer. For the abbey was a rambling, somewhat dilapidated structure that looked its age, which was considerable, and had the misfortune of being located only ten miles from Killingworth, a town near which coal had been discovered, and which now hosted a colliery, a coal mine over which a gray haze could be seen to hang on days when the sky was otherwise clear. She would never get a better offer for the abbey, and this one, at twelve thousand pounds, was really very generous.
    Still, its state of disrepair and unfortunate proximity to a coal mine notwithstanding, Beckwell Abbey was home, and not just to Nicola, but to Nana and Puddy, and a half dozen tenant farmers, as well.
    â€œBut the offer is for twelve thousand pounds, Nicola,” the Grouser had explained excitedly—or as excitedly as the Grouser was capable of saying anything, which wasn’t very. “Twelve thousand pounds!”
    Twelve thousand pounds was, of course, a staggering sum of money, considering that Nicola had barely a hundred pounds a year upon which to live. She might, as the Grouser was quick to point out, live comfortably for the rest of her life on the interest alone of that twelve thousand pounds, if it was invested wisely.
    Except that Lord Renshaw was