Nicola and Hugh looked up from where they had been reading Robinson Crusoe together at the writing table in her father's townhouse in London. Ewan strode into the room, smiling gently at them. "You have another caller, dear," he told her for the sixth time that afternoon.

"Where is Blanche? Can't she handle it?" Nicola groaned. Normally a quiet sanctity, her home was now a constant flux of people wanting to meet with her, court her, share tea with her. It was bothersome and intrusive. Some had been pleasant, but others had been snidely inquiring after Jason, hoping to attach more credibility to the snippet of gossip they had already acquired.

"Blanche is resting upstairs in her room," Ewan explained. "Perhaps you'd like to meet him here? I'll send him in."

"No, father, it-" But Ewan had left already and Nicola frowned. She didn't want any stranger to meet with Hugh- the boy was already timid enough around her. He had been subjected to disturbances throughout their lessons that afternoon and he had become more withdrawn as the time passed.

"Maybe I need to go," Hugh mumbled, small head downcast over the pages of his book he had been so enthusiastic about minutes before.

"No, no, don't," Nicola said kindly, stroking his back for reassurance. "Don't you worry, I'll get rid of him soon enough and we can carry on reading the story."

"Get rid of me? How rude."

Her head snapped up at the sound of that voice, her body humming with pleasure and excitement almost instantly. She hadn't seen him again after he had left her with his family to handle matters following Wilhelmina's visit. When she had inquired why he was not to accompany her and Blanche to London that morning, Kathleen had told her he had left earlier to attend to business matters prior to the masquerade. He had thought to leave her a note, however, and Nicola was so used to checking for correspondence from him it was almost an impulsive action now that compelled her open the chamber of the grandfather clock and collect the piece of folded parchment. When nobody was about, of course.

Try not to miss me too much?

She had thought him the worst sort of scoundrel then.

But he was here now, in her father's library, looking too handsome and pleased with himself in a dark blue coat that hung open over a muted grey waistcoat, one hand buried in the pocket of his fawn-coloured trousers while the other tucked his top hat under the crook of his elbow.

"Jason." His name sounded like a smile. Nicola stood, so did Hugh as the young boy studied the gentleman with wariness. Her father entered the room behind Jason and there was a tiny, almost unnoticeable smirk on his face as he went to seat himself at the furthermost end of the room away from them, spreading a paper out and pretending to absorb himself.

"Ah, so you didn't miss me too much then," Jason said, arching a brow at Hugh. "Clearly your attentions have strayed during my absence."

"This is Hugh," Nicola explained, gesturing to the boy. "Hugh, this is my friend, Lord Jason Blackwood. He's the Marquis of Northwick."

At that, the small boy's blue eyes went wide with terror.

"Back to formalities then, Nicola? Disappointing." Jason turned his gaze to Hugh and grinned. "Only prim and proper, stuck-up ladies use titles and formalities," he told the boy seriously. "As one of my friends, you must address me as Blackwood. Or Jason, if you like."

"Perhaps insufferable would be a better name, my lord?" Nicola smiled at him sweetly.

His eyes sparked with an unspoken promise of retribution that made her skin flare.

"Nicki is very proper," Hugh agreed, relaxing a bit at Jason's engagement.

"Agreed."

Nicola rolled her eyes. "Clearly I am outnumbered here," she mumbled.

Jason winked and moved closer to them. "Don't try to fight it, dear." He peered over the desk, examining the literature they had been reading prior to his arrival. "And what are we reading, Hugh?"

"Robinson Crusoe!" Suddenly, Hugh beamed, excited to talk about the story he had been reading as independently as he could manage so far. "Have you read it?"

"I have, indeed. Have you got to the cannibals yet?"

"No." A reproachful glance at Nicola. "We keep getting interrupted, so I can't go any further."

"Ah, I see." He came round the table, slithered behind Nicola, brushed his fingers along her waist, and pushed her out the way. "Mind if I take over from Miss Eversley, then?"

Hugh was staring at him with adoration now. Nicola was put out by that. It had taken her a week to earn the lad's trust. Jason? All he had to do was rib her and the boy was putty in his hands. "Yes, please!" Hugh gushed excitedly. "Mr Crusoe has just arrived in Brazil." They sat down together now, dark heads bending close together.

"I'll just ring for tea, then," Nicola grumbled, evidently dismissed.

"You let him read this?" Jason asked suddenly while Hugh stumbled and perfected words in the passage. "It's... mature."

Nicola shrugged. "He complains too much when we read anything else." She gestured to her father who was ducking behind his paper suspiciously. "Then he complains about the complaining. So, really, this is the best I can do at present until I have time to procure better literature."

"You can pillage Northwick's library," Jason said, and Hugh perked up at that. Jason ruffled his hair. "You both can, any time you want."

Nicola wondered if Hugh would ever be allowed to see Northwick, if his mother would allow it, but let the thought slide. Perhaps it was not her place to intrude too much into the boy's life, even if her intentions were honourable. Leaving them, Nicola rang for tea and went to sit beside her father while Jason exerted the patience of a saint beside a young boy trying to read.

"I am pleased to see the worry ease off your brow," Ewan remarked, his eyes fixed firmly to his paper, which Nicola reached over and flipped around for him so that the words were not upside down.

"You don't have to pretend to not be nosy, old man," she teased, and his smile was shameless. Upon arrival, she had informed her father of all that had transpired at Northwick and the conundrum she now found herself in. His sentiments had reflected that of the rest of the Blackwood household, so much so that Nicola had realised how fortunate she was to have a father like him. Many would not be quite so understanding of the disdain of a well-known dowager bestowed upon their daughter, but Ewan's relationship with the Blackwood's had been nurtured decades ago. As of yet, however, Nicola's callers had simply been curious about her and her relationship with Jason as it had panned out two evenings prior at the opera, no mention of whether a certain family member was outwardly voicing her disapproval. Whether Wilhelmina had publicly denounced her was yet to be seen.

"Yes, well it is not every day my daughter has several callers, one of which happens to be the Marquis of Northwick," Ewan said. He stroked the moustache he had started to grow, the wiry silver whiskers bristling with the gesture. "It's rather nice to have a break in the monotony of our quiet life, don't you think?"

"I rather thought you liked the peace," Nicola commented, wondering instead if perhaps her father was lonely after that remark. Ewan had never remarried since her mother's death and if he had any interests in the opposite sex, he had kept it hidden from his daughter except for the regular conversation he sparked up with the modiste down the street. Twenty-one years without a companion is a long time... a lonely time.

"I do." He chuckled. "Don't you fret over nothing, I see that look. I told you before, Nicki, it's you that needs to live a little. Make your family."

"I have my family." She reached over and held his hand, thinking of the Blackwood's as well. Jason and Hugh caught her eye, the vision breaking her heart. They looked... like something she couldn't think about right now. Hugh was giggling at something Jason was saying amidst a break in reading and for his part, Jason seemed to be enjoying the interchange, engrossed in the small boy's company as if he wouldn't like to be any where else in the world.

She couldn't love him anymore... and it broke her heart.

"Ugh," Blanche said, entering the library and rolling her eyes at Jason. "It's you."

"A pleasure as always, sister."

Hugh's eyes had rounded to epic proportions upon Blanche's entrance. "That's your sister?" he squeaked to Jason.

"Unfortunately," Jason drawled, leaning back and tilting his head down to study his small companion. "Trust me when I say, Hugh, it's better to not have any siblings. Especially if they are all girls."

"But she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

Blanche gave her brother a haughty look. "Thank you," she told Hugh and joined Nicola and her father at the table, shortly before the tea was brought in. "At least there is one gentleman in this room that has any common sense."

"I'll just be part of the chattel, shall I?" Ewan asked dryly.

Blanche jumped. "No, of course not, I wasn't aware you were there, Mr Eversley."

He had been partly hidden behind his paper, Nicola conceded, but her attention was drawn to Hugh who was beaming at being referred to as a gentleman. Oh, her friends were too good and she wondered if they realised what an impressionable effect they were having on a young life.

"Would you like to twist the knife while it is still in my heart, child?" Ewan jokingly told Blanche, who looked a bit remorseful as she helped herself to some tea and pastries.

"Blanche wouldn't think twice about it," Jason retorted from across the room.

"For you," she muttered. "Why are you even here? I thought we would only have to endure your company at the ball."

Jason sighed dramatically and rolled a conspiratorially pained glance at his young friend. "This is why we don't normally tolerate female company," he said wryly, making the young boy laugh hysterically. He turned to Blanche then. "I am calling upon Nicola." There was a commotion outside, followed by a very harassed looking footman. Jason glanced at the clock on the wall, murmuring casually, "As are Nathaniel and Oliver."

At that name, Blanche practically thrummed with excitement, just as the two gentlemen in question were announced.

There had never been so many people at one sitting before, or as much as Nicola could recall, in her small home- small in comparison to Northwick, at any rate. The two men in question barrelled into the room like a hurricane and she had the impression that there wasn't enough space or air to contain them or their energy, especially with Jason present as well.

"Can't go anywhere without your henchmen?" Blanche teased, though it was obviously an act. She was positively thrilled to be in the same vicinity as Nathaniel again, her eyes following him around the chamber as he sat on an armchair that dwarfed in comparison to his sizeable bulk.

"How dare you?" Jason gasped, feigning affront.

Oliver, less uncouth and more civilised than Nathaniel, at least had the decency to remember to bow to his hosts, greeting Ewan, Nicola and Blanche before propping a hip against the desk Jason and Hugh were sitting at. "Well, what do we have here, Blackwood?"

"This is Hugh," Jason introduced, then added, "I was just about to tell him how Nathaniel would love to show him how to ride a horse one day."

"Jesus, poor horse." This was uttered from her father and Nicola snorted, almost spitting out her tea. She had never heard her father blaspheme before, ever a man of calm propriety, and especially not in front of a lady. Blanche, too, had heard this and began to giggle.

Hugh, however, was looking at the two new additions with wonder on his face. Clearly he had never been in the same room with as so many gentlemen before and for the second time Nicola wondered if any of them realised the profound impact they were having on this child.

"And Oliver," Jason continued, ignoring that last remark even though his lips were twitching, "would probably want to show you how to fence, that is of course if you have the time."

"I'll have to ask my mum," Hugh said, the excitement in his eyes dimming slightly. Then and there Nicola vowed to try harder to earn his mother's trust, as well. For now, it was the least she could do. Added, of course, to an ever-increasing list of problems she needed to tackle. One at a time, she reasoned, stifling the unease that began to creep into her mind at the looming prospect of the masquerade ball.

"You just let Miss Eversley know when," Nathaniel agreed, the chair creaking in protest against his sheer weight, "and we'll plan accordingly."

Hugh was nodding eagerly.

"Could think of nothing I'd like doing more," Oliver added.

"I do like your friends, Nicki," Hugh announced loudly across the room, smiling broadly.

Nicola laughed warmly, her smile hurting her cheeks. "I'm glad," she told him earnestly. "I do too."

"I have to go," Hugh informed them reluctantly as he began to scoop up his handwriting papers and book, depositing them into his satchel.

Handwriting papers. Nicola's heart stopped. She swivelled to Jason, who was helping the boy, who had been sitting in front of those incriminating pieces of parchment the entire time, but if he noticed anything, if he knew that the prose matched the letters of the ones he had in his possession, his face did not reveal any of it, for he simply stood, slung the bag on the boy's shoulder, ruffled his hair, and sent him on his way.

Slowly, her heart began to return to normal. This secret was going to be the death of her, she was sure. Maybe it would be better if she simply told him, got it over with and out in the open, and whatever happened would happen. She could run away for a spell, hide in London where he would never have to endure her after those awkward confessions.

She locked the thoughts away for now, for if he hadn't noticed anything amiss then she couldn't react as such, focusing instead on the problem at hand, which would probably be how to fix the chair that Nathaniel was currently bending, but the man hardly seemed to notice or care. Ewan, however, was tracking the movements with a hawkish gaze.

"Move, brat," Jason told his sister, who was beside Nicola on the settee they were sharing. "You are in my seat."

Blanche glared up him balefully. "What's the magic word?"

"Now." He didn't hesitate picking her up and dumping her to the side, much to her affront. She thought better of attacking him though, probably for Nathaniel's benefit since he was present and she wanted to possibly portray that she was not some wild heathen with an appetite to match, but Nicola had seen her launch herself at her brother before, so it was a surprise that she restrained herself so commendably now. The only available chair for Blanche to occupy now was beside Mr Southill, which she hopped to eagerly and sat down, peering up at him with wide-eyed adoration, which he simply ignored. Nicola stored the image of them sitting side by side to laugh at for later- a tiny elf and a giant. Jason was also contemplating them in silence for a moment before he turned to her, lounging back against the chair and stretching his long legs before him. "Tell me truthfully," he said, smiling slowly, "how much did you miss me?"

"Doubtful, my boy," Ewan grunted, rustling his paper as he closed it against his lap, "that she has had a chance to miss anything, what with your sister keeping her busy and all the callers Nicola has had to entertain today."

"Suitably wounded, sir." His laughing eyes settled on her face, searching and observant. "And you, Nicola, still feeling concerned about what's to come?" There was a solemnness and concern in his voice that touched her, warmed her.

And she smiled, glancing around the room briefly. "I think," she said to him, "that I am fine. Or I will be." It was the truth. It did not seem as daunting with the people she cared about most at her side. His answering smile was intimate.

"Stop," Nathaniel growled loudly, drawing their attention, "looking at me."

Blanche did not, merely gawked at him harder before having the audacity to prod his forearm with her index finger. "It's so hard!" she remarked, in awe. "What do you eat?"

"Small debutantes, I imagine," Oliver provided, winking. "I heard they are most nutritious."

Jason, however, was frowning at the interchange, and if Nicola had her doubts about Blanche becoming enamoured with Nathaniel Southill, the expression on the Marquis of Northwick's face confirmed them. "Perhaps," she said to the room, "Blanche and I had better see to our preparations for the evening." It roused her friend enough to switch her concentration to the time and nod in agreement, though reluctantly. And as Nicola rose to take her leave of her guests and proceed upstairs, Jason grasped her hand, pressing his fingers against her palm with a meaningful look as he drew her own fingers against his lips for a kiss.

Then he closed her hand into a fist and allowed it to drop, discreetly containing the slip of paper he had slipped into her hold.