Venus Read Online Free PDF Page A

some sense out of the man, although he appeared to have no recollection of the past hour or of what had led him so far from his usual beat. He pocketed the two guineas Nicholas, troubled by conscience, gave him, clicked his tongue at his horses, then slumped back against the seat as the carriage moved off. Trusting thatthe beasts would know their own way home, Nicholas turned back to his other, rather more bothersome, responsibility.
    She stood huddled in his coat, her face white and tear-streaked—a fact that did not appear to mar her beauty in the least, Nicholas thought distractedly; it simply aroused in him an overpowering desire to take her in his arms. She was rubbing one bare foot alternately against the other leg in a futile effort to reduce their exposure to the frozen ground. Nicholas swung her into his arms, telling himself that it was simply the practical solution to her problem.
    “Oh!” Polly said in surprise. It was not at all an unpleasant sensation for one who had never before been offered a helping hand in the seventeen years of her existence. “Am I not heavy?”
    “Not excessively,” replied her bearer with credible insouciance. “Sound the knocker.”
    Polly grasped the heavy brass door knocker, banging it vigorously. The sound of bolts scraping followed almost immediately, and the door swung open at the hand of a young footboy whose sleep-filled eyes and crumpled livery bore witness to his inability to stay alert while waiting up for his master’s return.
    “You may go to bed, Tom,” Nicholas said, walking straight past him, ignoring the startled stare at the bundle in his arms.
    “Yes, m’lord,” the lad muttered as Nicholas strode to the stairs.
    “Are you a lord?” his burden asked, realizing with a slight shock that despite the intimacies they had shared, she did not know his name. If he was, indeed, a nobleman, then he would be even better placed to help her than she had hoped.
    “As it happens. Nicholas, Lord Kincaid, at your service.” She chuckled at the absurdity of this dry formula of introduction, and he looked down at her, recognizing that same infectious smile that had so entranced him earlier. He had intended sending her up to the attics to find a bed with the servants, but they would all be asleep, the place in darkness,and she was still chilled to the bone, not in a fit condition to explain herself to strangers—even if a reasonable explanation could be found. With a half shrug, he entered his own chamber, where a fire glowed in the hearth and the soft light of wax tapers in a many-branched candlestick offered a welcoming light.
    Polly gazed, awestruck, at the luxury of the huge feather bed with its embroidered hangings and carved bedposts. “The walls are painted!” she exclaimed as he set her on her feet. She ran across the smooth, waxed oak floor to examine the scenes and designs delicately worked in blue and gilt on the wooden paneling. “How pretty.” Suddenly the image of her straw pallet in the airless cubbyhole beneath the stairs at the Dog tavern rose vivid in her mind. How could there be such contrasts in the same city? The delight and excitement in her novel surroundings withered, and the cold, miserable exhaustion she had felt in the carriage returned.
    Nicholas saw the shiver and the quick turn of her head as if she would hide something from him. He went over to the bed, bending to pull a truckle bed from beneath. “You may sleep here tonight. Margaret will know what to do with you in the morning.”
    At that she swung round. “Who is Margaret?”
    “The lady of the house,” he responded.
    “Your … your wife.”
    “My brother’s widow. She keeps house for me.”
    Polly wondered why the information should be such balm. “I do not wish her to do anything with me in the morning,” she informed him. “With you as my patron, I will be introduced to Master Killigrew at the king’s playhouse, and he will see what a good actor I am.” She sat on the