A Visit From Sir Nicholas Read Free Page B

either her own mind or her heart. She loved Charles. She always had.

    There wasn't a question at all about that. But did she love Nicholas as well? Was it even possible to love two men at the same time? One who warmed you with the comfort of his presence and the other who made you tremble at the mere sound of his voice?
    She had to find out, and tonight would be her only chance. Before Charles asked for her hand. Before Nicholas left London, left her life, possibly forever.
    Lizzie turned to the paper on the desk, thought for a moment, then penned a few lines. She sat back and studied them. Personal, but not too personal. Affectionate, but not overly so. One could read her words in any number of ways depending on the reader's own feelings. Yes, it would do. She pulled open a drawer and drew out the book she had purchased. She'd been lucky to find one still available. The bookseller had said they could well be sold out entirely before Christmas. She opened the small volume, drew a deep breath, then carefully wrote the decided-upon lines on the flyleaf and waited for the ink to dry.
    It was the perfect Christmas gift for a man she might or might not love. A man who might or might not love her. The perfect gift for an old family friend about to embark on endless travels or someone who might well be very much more than a friend.
    She closed the book gently and studied the red cloth cover with the words A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens emblazoned in gilt and encircled by a gold wreath. Jules was right.
    One way or another, this would most certainly be a night to remember.

Chapter 2
    "There's no reason for you to leave, none at all." Frederick, the Earl of Thornecroft, sat in his favorite chair in his favorite room at Thornecroft House, sipping his favorite brandy with his favorite and ever-present cigar in his hand, and glared at his favorite, indeed his only, nephew. "You'll have my money and my title as well when I'm gone."
    "Ah, but the key there, Uncle, is that you should have to die first," Nicholas Collingsworth said mildly, prowling the perimeter of the Thornecroft library in a manner even more restless than usual. "And I am far and away too fond of you to wish that."
    "That's something, at any rate," Frederick muttered. "Still, I can well provide you with whatever you desire in life, and glad to do it."
    "You have provided for me since the day my parents died. It's past time I provided for myself."
    "You're just like your father, you know."
    "Thank you." Nick flashed the older man a grin. For a moment, uncle and nephew fell silent, each with his own memories: one of a cherished younger brother, the other of a beloved father taken far too soon.
    "Still, I hope we are not too much alike."
    His uncle considered him thoughtfully, as if comparing father to son in his own mind. "James was a good man, but he had no head for business."
    "He was a dreamer," Nick said absently, stepping around a precarious tower of books stacked unsteadily on the floor. The untidy appearance of the library was a constant source of dismay for Mrs. Smithers, the housekeeper. While the room was officially forbidden territory for Mrs. Smithers and her staff of maids, Frederick and Nick knew full well she managed a bit of clandestine cleaning nonetheless.
    "He refused to see past the dream of an endeavor to the reality."
    "And you are far more practical?" It was as much a statement as a question.
    "Indeed I am," Nick said, deftly skirting a pile of correspondence and unread manuscripts. Uncle Frederick had a secret passion for all manner of scientific and scholarly pursuits, especially those of a historic nature. While few of his social acquaintances knew of this more serious aspect of his character—
    indeed, he was better known for his pursuit of women than for anything else— in certain amateur academic circles, he was considered something of an expert on the flora and fauna of ancient Egypt.
    "With more desire as well," Frederick said under