Chapter Twenty-Two
Nicholas had needed distance. Distance from London and Lady Isabella, but more than that, distance from thinking. The distance of simply existing in the moment, not remembering what had happened, not feeling any emotions. Yesterday he’d done just that: not thought, merely existed, sitting on the rough wooden bench in front of the inn, a tankard in his hand, the sign creaking above his head, watching the world go by.
Today it was time to make decisions. He chose the bench in front of the inn again and laid the facts out in his mind.
Firstly, Lady Isabella had sheltered Harriet.
For that, he could only thank her.
Secondly, she had named him for an ogre.
He grimaced at memory of Gussie’s ball, the whispers and the sniggers, the sideways glances, his rage in discoverin
