Wasn't this just the most interesting and peculiar thing to happen to him today? Jason mused as he came to a halt in the passage outside his private chambers and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching.

If he had thought to find Miss Eversley outside his rooms, in this wing of the manor house, he would have believed his mind insane. Yet, here she was, and there was a decidedly guilty air about her.

He chose not to make his presence known immediately since her back was to him, and instead Jason merely enjoyed the view and entertainment she presented. She was up to no good, it was clear in the way each step was light and painfully careful, reluctant to let her toes make even the slightest sound against the floor. She'd lost the bonnet she had been wearing earlier when Wilhelmina had visited, but other than that subtle change she remained the same as he had seen her last in the parlour room- wearing that soft coloured gown with the neckline that dipped just slightly lower than decent, though perhaps it was hardly noticeable and it was just the result of his wayward thoughts of late.

The passage was dark, the only light spilling into the narrow corridor from the opposite end by way of a bay window, and Nicola was moving with painstaking slowness towards the closed door to his chamber. Nobody else in the family resided this side of the manor, it was only him, while Blanche and his mother, and even Miss Eversley, had chambers in the opposite wing, on the other side of the house, which suited him just as well since his comings and goings well into the night wouldn't be monitored as astutely.

So, it was quite damning that Nicola was found here, when there was certainly no plausible reason for her to be here, and Jason was about to allow her the benefit of a doubt, thinking that just perhaps she had strayed and was simply passing his rooms, but then those nimble, gloved fingers began to extend to the brass handle of the door.

He cleared his throat.

Her head jerked around so hard a few pins were strewn from it and skittered along the floor while those russet-tinted curls began to loosen. Eyes huge, brows raised, mouth parted, Nicola squeaked. Yes, squeaked, and he couldn't help the surprised smile on his face at the sound. "Either I have caught a mouse," he told her slowly, still leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest, "or a very pretty snoop."

Those damnable lips of hers snapped shut and made a peculiar movement that notched them to one side. He absently cursed his grandmother for pointing out such an unusual and appealing feature on the girl, for he had never noticed it before and now that he had... well. Nicola spoke in a way that was adorable. Her lips were animated and she favoured the right side of her mouth, often quirking it up as she articulated her speech, using those small even teeth to emphasise her diction as well. The top was shaped as gracefully as a cat's, the bottom plumper and more luscious. No, she definitely didn't look like a beetle...

A guilty blush flared up the long column of her neck, trailing over the slightly square lines of her jaw and chin.

"I am not snooping," she declared with a small shake of her head.

"No? Then you must be a mouse."

She held her hands together before her, palms turned up to the ceiling, and crinkled her brow imploringly, lips puckered to one side. That look, that face... his body thrummed. "Would you believe me if I said I was lost?" she appealed.

Jason shook his head slowly. "Try again."

Her nose scrunched and her shoulders lifted in an imploring gesture. "Blanche sent me to tell you something?"

"Slightly more plausible." He arched a brow high, unmoving while she squirmed. Oh, he knew she was lying, but he was enjoying this game a little too much. "Go on."

Panic flared in those gold-flecked eyes as she fumbled desperately for an excuse, a reason, to explain her presence outside his chambers. It was curious, indeed. Jason's reputation was hardly pristine- this was no secret among his family. The fact that Nicola would risk scandal if she were caught snooping outside his private chambers... interesting, indeed. He pushed off the wall, dropping his arms to his sides, and strode towards her.

"Your sister," Nicola said, her words tripping over themselves as they left her lips, "wanted me to... to..." She was back pedalling now as he advanced, her eyes skittish.

"You're so close," Jason teased wryly, herding her so that she was forced to step back against the closed door of his chambers. Her shoulders thumped softly and realisation dawned on her face as his body inched closer.

"Tooo..." She bit her bottom lip, drawing his gaze, and Jason knew he was being a terrible flirt but he just had to lift his hands and flatten his palms against the wood on either side of her face. Those pupils dilated. A unique scent wafted up to greet him, distinctly floral and heady- jasmine, perhaps, but more potent, more real...

"Think, Nicki..." His words, he realised, were thick, deeper, caused by his body's reaction to her. She was so close her skirts breathed against the fabric of his trousers, so close he could feel the warmth seeping from her skin and absorbed into his, and she was aware of it, too, responding in kind, maybe a bit unknowingly, to the kindling desire between them. "What did Blanche want you to do?" His breath brushed against her cheek. So close, he thought, his face was so close to hers he could scarcely focus.

"Ask you something," she finally said, her back pressed flat against his door.

That smell was taking over him. His skin was alive, awash with it. He needed more, just a bit more, and Jason lowered his head an inch, only an inch, and with the gentlest whisper his cheek touched hers, until he could inhale deeply from the soft spot, that sweet curve behind her ear and down her neck... "Yes?" he pressed, his voice but a murmur, and he felt her shiver.

"To- to accompany us!" she blurted, stiffening at the contact of his nose brushing against her ear. He could, realised Jason, devour this spot for hours and never be sated. Her hair surrounded him, her scent lingering firmly there.

"Accompany you where?"

Gloved hands rose and pressed against his chest, futilely, then settled and Jason was surprised she continued to touch him, surprised and, damn it, pleased. "I can't-" She swallowed and took a shuddering breath. "I can't concentrate, my lord, with you... with you close like this."

"Where, Nicki?" He leaned back and met her gaze, so wide and flushed, while one hand dropped from the door and spanned a wrist at his chest, at his heart.

"The bakery... in the village..."

It was a lame excuse, he reasoned, and his smile probably told her he thought so, but he didn't care. He wondered, not for the first time that day, how he had let her loveliness go unnoticed all these years. He supposed that since his father's death, his newly acquired position had taken prioritized residence in his mind and young, pretty debutantes hadn't warranted a second glance... but Nicola should have. There was something exquisitely different about her.

"You're... you're unsettling me," she told him, pushing softly at his chest, and Jason stepped back with a guttural sigh. Just as the contact left him, he longed for it again. Nicola made a show of pressing down her skirts, as if he had been the sole cause of their unforgiving disarray.

"You should be unsettled just by being in this passage," Jason said dryly. It earned him a speaking look. "I won't tell anyone," he added with a leer.

Nicola turned her nose up at that. "Thank you," she said begrudgingly and sidled past him, beginning to walk down the passage that would take her back to the other side of the house, long tendrils of hair floating down her back.

"Nicola," he said, his voice edged with a hot warning that caused her to stop and glance at him from over her shoulder, "if you ever set foot in this passage again, I might show you just how unsettled you could stand to feel- inside my chambers."

Was that a whisper of a smile taunting the corner of her lip up? His eyes latched onto the imperceptible movement and briefly Jason wondered if he had missed it, but then she turned again and carried on her way. "Tell Blanche I'll be more than happy to accompany the two of you to the bakery," Jason added as an afterthought, knowing full well the torment it would cause the poor girl as she would now have the contrive an excuse to get Blanche to the bakery... though he doubted his insatiable sister would need that big of a nudge. Nicola ignored the jibe and disappeared, leaving him alone in the passage.

He allowed the rush of anticipation to leave his body as he stared after her, his thoughts haphazard and bizarrely streamlined on one, annoying focal point. Nicola Eversley.

Interesting.

The devil was she playing at, outright snooping around his private rooms? Perhaps he should have tried harder to coax the truth out of her. He knew that it was very possible that if he had persevered, allowed his lips to graze her cheek and linger on that quirky corner of her lips, she may very well blurt it all or, better, allow him the privilege of kissing her to keep her silence.

Jason allowed the thoughts to run through his mind as he entered the room and locked the door behind him. He was thirty years old, and the thought of marrying had hardly crossed his mind at all, though he had bore witness to countless of his peers succumbing to it. He had been urged by his mother to settle down, yet her desire to see him married stemmed from the need to see him happy, as she had been married to Thomas. Then there was the implacable demand of Wilhelmina, and Jason somehow doubted he'd manage to evade that old crone's commands for much longer.

He unbuttoned his coat and tossed it to the side, on the floor, then he toed off his boots before collapsing on his bed. He had a couple of hours to while away before he had to attend to some business in London. And he could still smell her.

Christ.

It was not as if he was averse to marriage, not at all. In fact, Jason liked to think of himself as somewhat of a romantic. If his mother knew, she would simply implode with happiness, but he was waiting for someone to make him happy, a love-match, and that simply hadn't occurred yet, or maybe he wasn't looking hard enough, but he didn't think things regarding love worked quite like that.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling restless after the events of the afternoon. He turned his head, his eyes fixing on the small wooden box he'd found near the pool- a small safe haven away from his busybody mother and rambunctious sister, though evidently not anymore. Suddenly intrigued, he sat up, studying the container curiously where he had placed it on the desk at the opposite end of the room. It belonged to someone, delicate carvings of ivy leaves and little flowers decorating the wood, and someone who knows of the pool.

Standing, the Marquis of Northwick ambled idly over and picked up the box, cradling it with studious hands, running his fingers over the beautiful carvings and smooth edges.

"Interesting, indeed," he murmured into the stillness of his chambers.

A thumb edged over the tiny metal clasp sealing the two lids together and with a deft motion, he had flicked it open.

Then he frowned.