Chapter 22

 

“Nicolas, a word, if you please,” the Duchess of Hohburg called out.

Nick groaned. He knew from experience his mother would have her word–or words, rather–whether it pleased him or not. And, more than likely, there were plenty of them she wanted to direct at him. He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss anything with his mother. Especially not in the sour mood he had been in for the last four days.

He needed to get out of here. His first impulse–to ride to Rapunzel’s tower–withered when he remembered her command to never come back. As much as he hated it, he would not go against her wishes.

He had already done the worst possible thing to her–he had hurt her. No matter how much he had wanted to avoid this, her pain was entirely his fault, and he felt the worst kind of ass about it.

Maybe he should have let Penn talk her down. For Penn would have never let himself get wrapped up in her as much as Nick did.

And Nick was completely enveloped in Rapunzel. His Tressey. He wanted nothing more than to go back, beg on his knees for her forgiveness.

Yet he could not change his duty. And that made him the sickest of all.

Duty was duty and, regardless of how he felt about Rapunzel, he was betrothed. There was nothing that could be done.

He could hear his mother within, abusing the furniture while she waited. She slammed a door shut with particular violence, and his head throbbed. Ever since that night he could not get rid of the ache in his head. Or maybe it was the one in his heart that caused such pain.

It mattered not. They were one and the same.

Nick paused in the great hall. “Yes, Mother.” He peeked into the room. His mother was pacing, opening and closing cabinets with unnecessary force, and Kiki shadowed her.

Nosy little brat. She had probably been telling Mother every single time he left.

After shooting his sister a glare, he turned to face his mother. The duchess–a short, stout woman–carried herself with a dignity that was only marred by her natural inclination toward frenetic activity when in the midst of one of her schemes. All the signs pointed to this being one of those times.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out for a ride,” Nick said.

He took Ovet out at least once a day now, pushing her into a gallop as soon as they cleared the castle walls. Leaning low over her neck, he would bury his fingers in her mane and close his eyes. Try to lose himself in the thunder of her hooves, in the strong and steady beat of her heart, in the heat rising from her coat. He kept urging her faster, hoping in vain to outrun the ache in his heart.

Kiki snorted behind Mother, bringing him out of his reverie. Her dark eyes narrowed on him. Evidently, he had committed some great crime and Kiki was bound and determined to hear his punishment.

“Enrika,” Mother said, not bothering to look back at her. “You have things to do, do you not?”

She grinned. “No, I have nothing I need to do.”

Now Mother did turn, and her expression must have been something to behold, for Kiki’s grin slid off her face as if greased. “Go,” Mother said. “Find something.”

Kiki huffed and headed out the door, muttering about being dismissed after she had been the one to inform Mother.

Mother waited until Kiki’s footsteps could no longer be heard then turned her pinched expression on him. “You have been taking a lot of evening rides. Who are you seeing?”

“Just the trees.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you are attempting to hide from your obligations…”

He let out a slow breath, taking a moment to choose his words very carefully instead of blurting out his frustration. His father rarely raised a hand to him, but he would certainly remind him how to speak to his mother. “I have no desire to get out of my obligations, Mother. I am merely going out and exploring the countryside.”

“In the Black Forest?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw locking–the expression she wore whenever he committed some infraction. It had terrified him in childhood, and usually still worked its measure of guilt on him, but today Nick was too tired to feel anything.

“Yes, actually.”

“I see. Could you explain why this necessitates insulting a lady of good breeding?”

“Thought it might enliven her days. Lady Eva seemed so bored, following me around everywhere I went. She needed something to talk about.” Eva certainly never listened to anything he said. It did not seem to matter if he was kind or cruel. If he shouted or tried to persuade. She would not end her attempts at pursuit.

“Hrmph.” She was not buying it. “She certainly has been dramatic about it. One would think you encouraged her.” She waggled a finger at him. “But I know you. And I doubt you have interest in anyone in residence.”

“I do not know any of them.”

She let out a sigh. “Nor do you care to. You are young. Four-and-twenty is still youthful enough to appreciate the wilder things in life.”

Nick smirked.

The duchess grabbed his left ear, yanking him down so his face was even with hers. Nick could not stop himself from yelping. She had certainly perfected the art of creating the most amount of pain possible with very little effort.

A finger in his face, she started her rant, finally getting around to the real reason she was concerned about his nightly rides. “So help me, if you are plowing some peasant’s fields while toying with the ladies in residence, I will hang you by your male parts and hand the title over to your cousin.”

Nick rolled his eyes reflexively. He had heard that threat one too many times to take her seriously.

Mother must have caught his expression, for she seemed to be trying to detach his ear from his head.

“I am doing no such thing, Mother.” He ducked a little, trying to ease her grip, but he knew better than to attempt to dislodge her hand. She would not let go until she was good and ready.

She gave one final pull then released him. “I would not blame you for entertaining, but you need to be considering finding a mate. A woman of noble blood. There are plenty of young ladies here, all of whom would make excellent wives.”

Nick rubbed his ear. “Mother, please. How many times must we discuss this? I cannot consider anything of the sort. I am already betrothed.”

She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his words. “You are well aware that no one, not even Duke von Stroebel himself, will hold you to that betrothal.”

“That does not matter,” he said stiffly. “Father gave his word, and I am duty bound to uphold it.”

“Nicolas, this is absurd–”

Nick turned without a word and left. He could not stand to hear her dismiss the duty that kept him from Rapunzel. He was a man of honor. The contract had been made.

He stalked to the stable, to the escape only Ovet could offer him. At least, that was his intent.

He could not keep Rapunzel out of his mind. She was like a plague that would not vanish. He glanced at his hand. He had worn the bandage for only a few hours. By the time he had returned home and climbed into bed, the little cut had all but disappeared, replaced by a thin pink line that now, four days later, was gone unless one squinted hard to see it.

It made him sick to think about Rapunzel locked in the tower, now that he knew the reason. Her hair would make anyone a great deal of money.

He had to get out of here. Heading for the door, he was about to pull it open, when it jerked open in front of him.

One of the footmen appeared with Jess. “Lord Nicolas,” he said. “This boy here has a letter for you.”

He smiled. “Good to see you, Jess.”

Jess, jerking out of the footman’s arm, shuffled and straightened his jacket.

“Thank you. I shall see to the boy now,” Nick said.

The footman turned and walked out the door.

Jess made sure the footman was gone before speaking. “It took them an awful long time to write the reply, my lord.” He reached into his coat.

Nick nodded. “Duchess von Stroebel has always been long-winded in her letters.”

The boy handed him the letter, a thick pad of papers, several sheets at least.

Nick removed a handful of coins from his pocket for him. “You did well, Jess. I thank you. Now, go on to the kitchen and get yourself some food.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord.” The boy took off with no more prompting, his footfalls hard on the floor.

Nick glanced at the seal on it. Once, he had felt good about getting these letters. They had made him feel important, righteous. That he was doing good by not only his father’s word, but by the von Stroebels.

Yet now, holding this one in his hand, he merely felt tired. And disappointed.

He hated to admit it, but Lady Eva was right. Duty was a cold bedfellow.