world? And he was, miracle of miracles, hers. All hers.
But even gods sometimes made mistakes.
âOf course,â she replied, attempting to keep her tone as dismissive as his. âAn orphan is an orphan, after all. And it really is only by the grace of God that I never had to live the way that poor child lives. My father, at least, left me more or less well taken care of. So many orphans havenât the sort of luck Iâve had.â
This was, Nicola felt, quite an impressive speech. She saw admiration in Eleanorâs warm glance. Even Sir Hugh looked impressed.
And Nathaniel? Well, Nathaniel Sheridan was never in the least admiring of anything Nicola ever did. But even he, just this once, looked less inclined to laugh at her than usual.
Unfortunately, however, the God did not seem to share Nathanielâs inclination, since he laughed quite heartily and, taking Nicolaâs hand, cried, âOh, but you are an enchanting creature, I swear! As if you could ever find yourself in a situation at all like that pitiful childâs. Why, orphan though you may be, Nicola, you could never find yourself friendless and alone, begging for scraps to eat. Youâre entirely too pretty.â
And though this was, of course, a flattering thing to say, Nicola could not help thinking that the God had rather missed the point of her speech.
Still, she forgave him, because he seemed really to mean what heâd said. And what kind of girl could hold a grudge for long against a fellow as handsome as Lord Sebastian? Not Nicola, that was for certain.
Though she was careful after that to steer him well out of the path of any beggar children she happened to spy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
âHeâs the kind of person who wants to marry me,â Nicola had said to Eleanor about the viscount. âIsnât that enough?â
But later, alone in her room at the Bartholomewsâ, Nicola couldnât help wondering if it really was. After all, the Milksop had wanted to marry her, as well, and look what kind of person he was: the kind who fainted at the sight of the merest biological oddity, and who implied that a girl like Nicola could not possibly know how to swim, let alone be loved by a young man like the God. A nasty, horrid person. That was what Harold Blenkenship was.
Lord Sebastian wasnât nasty or horrid. Yes, he did seem a bit lacking in tolerance for beggar children. But then, who liked seeing beggar children? It was sad always to see them on the street, holding out their dirty little hands for coins thatâthe God was probably quite rightâonly went to buy drink for their slatternly parents. Nicola could not blame him for having an aversion to such creatures. And though Nicola had managed, with soda water, to get out the stain from Lord Sebastianâs coat, it was true that it had taken quite a while, and the sleeve never did look quite as nice as it had before.
And yes, it was true the God had a temper. Nicolaâs first glimpse of it, the day heâd raised his cane as if to strike that poor child, had been a startling one. But most men had tempers. It wasnât necessarily a bad thing. And indeed, Lord Sebastian hadnât, in the end, struck the child. Clearly he had control of his temper. And that was more than could be said of many men.
And Nicola had never once seen the God strike any of his horses. Quite the opposite, in fact. His affection for the creatures was touching to behold.
And yes, certainly Lord Sebastian did seem to enjoy a game of whist. But that didnât make him an inveterate gambler. He merely loved the thrill, the exhilaration of the game!
And while he might be unfamiliar with the works of most of the poets Nicola admired, that certainly didnât make him a dunce. Lord Sebastian was just an athletic sort of person who hadnât time to read, between all of his shooting outings and games of bagatelle.
Nathaniel, who wasnât much of an athleteâoh, he
But even gods sometimes made mistakes.
âOf course,â she replied, attempting to keep her tone as dismissive as his. âAn orphan is an orphan, after all. And it really is only by the grace of God that I never had to live the way that poor child lives. My father, at least, left me more or less well taken care of. So many orphans havenât the sort of luck Iâve had.â
This was, Nicola felt, quite an impressive speech. She saw admiration in Eleanorâs warm glance. Even Sir Hugh looked impressed.
And Nathaniel? Well, Nathaniel Sheridan was never in the least admiring of anything Nicola ever did. But even he, just this once, looked less inclined to laugh at her than usual.
Unfortunately, however, the God did not seem to share Nathanielâs inclination, since he laughed quite heartily and, taking Nicolaâs hand, cried, âOh, but you are an enchanting creature, I swear! As if you could ever find yourself in a situation at all like that pitiful childâs. Why, orphan though you may be, Nicola, you could never find yourself friendless and alone, begging for scraps to eat. Youâre entirely too pretty.â
And though this was, of course, a flattering thing to say, Nicola could not help thinking that the God had rather missed the point of her speech.
Still, she forgave him, because he seemed really to mean what heâd said. And what kind of girl could hold a grudge for long against a fellow as handsome as Lord Sebastian? Not Nicola, that was for certain.
Though she was careful after that to steer him well out of the path of any beggar children she happened to spy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
âHeâs the kind of person who wants to marry me,â Nicola had said to Eleanor about the viscount. âIsnât that enough?â
But later, alone in her room at the Bartholomewsâ, Nicola couldnât help wondering if it really was. After all, the Milksop had wanted to marry her, as well, and look what kind of person he was: the kind who fainted at the sight of the merest biological oddity, and who implied that a girl like Nicola could not possibly know how to swim, let alone be loved by a young man like the God. A nasty, horrid person. That was what Harold Blenkenship was.
Lord Sebastian wasnât nasty or horrid. Yes, he did seem a bit lacking in tolerance for beggar children. But then, who liked seeing beggar children? It was sad always to see them on the street, holding out their dirty little hands for coins thatâthe God was probably quite rightâonly went to buy drink for their slatternly parents. Nicola could not blame him for having an aversion to such creatures. And though Nicola had managed, with soda water, to get out the stain from Lord Sebastianâs coat, it was true that it had taken quite a while, and the sleeve never did look quite as nice as it had before.
And yes, it was true the God had a temper. Nicolaâs first glimpse of it, the day heâd raised his cane as if to strike that poor child, had been a startling one. But most men had tempers. It wasnât necessarily a bad thing. And indeed, Lord Sebastian hadnât, in the end, struck the child. Clearly he had control of his temper. And that was more than could be said of many men.
And Nicola had never once seen the God strike any of his horses. Quite the opposite, in fact. His affection for the creatures was touching to behold.
And yes, certainly Lord Sebastian did seem to enjoy a game of whist. But that didnât make him an inveterate gambler. He merely loved the thrill, the exhilaration of the game!
And while he might be unfamiliar with the works of most of the poets Nicola admired, that certainly didnât make him a dunce. Lord Sebastian was just an athletic sort of person who hadnât time to read, between all of his shooting outings and games of bagatelle.
Nathaniel, who wasnât much of an athleteâoh, he
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