His Best Interests

By S. Faith, © 2009

Words: 5,995
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: Explosions of protest from the other side of the Atlantic…
Disclaimer: The main character's mine, in a sense; everything else, not so much.
Notes: Prequelville!

New York has always been a city of coincidence. With the sheer number of people there—more than double of his native London—that one would randomly and spontaneously encounter an old friend and colleague on the street seemed beyond comprehension. There was no mistaking him, though, and from the grin being shot back in his own direction, he was certainly recognised in return.

"Nick Wentworth." He strode forward, holding his hand out for a very firm handshake. "It's been a few years, hasn't it?"

"Since our little joint effort," said Nick with a smile. "Made a great team on that case."

"We sure did." Robert glanced down the street, then to his watch; he was clearly meeting a deadline and looking for a taxi. "Just heading for a late lunch. Care to join me?"

Nick had nothing planned but perhaps a meal himself after a long morning in court, so he agreed readily.

After hailing a taxi, they shot up Sixth Avenue and down to the 21 Club, where Robert had already reserved a table.

"It's such a coincidence, actually, that I should run into you like this," said Robert as he carved into his sirloin then swept through the Bordelaise pooled in the bottom of the plate.

Nick had just taken a bite of his succulent, tender rabbit, and hastened to chew so that he could respond, as curious as he suddenly was. "Why's that?"

"We are bringing someone you know very well on board."

Nick had been in New York for many years now, and there were quite a few people he would consider that he knew very well. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

Robert chuckled. "Would 'nephew' narrow it down for you, Nick?"

Nick blinked, suddenly stunned. Of his two nephews, only one was trained legally; however, that nephew lived on the other side of the Atlantic. "You can't possibly mean Mark."

Robert was grinning broadly, obviously pleased at having taken Nick aback in such a way.

"He would have told me," said Nick gravely.

"He's just accepted today," said Robert quickly.

Nick did not know what to say. Robert chuckled.

"I cannot believe I have managed to make the great Nick Wentworth speechless."

"He's so entrenched in his life and career in London. I am just having a hard time believing it's true."

"It's true. Managed to snag one of his colleagues, too. They'll be here just after Christmas."

Nick carried on eating, unsure of what else to say. If it were true, he would be thrilled, naturally, to have his beloved nephew local to him, but the thought of Mark uprooting himself from his life in London was something Nick found unbelievable for his staid nephew. He would definitely be making a phone call at the earliest opportunity.

………

"Mark Darcy speaking."

"Mark," said Nick, cradling the phone in his hand.

He hardly need announce himself. "Nick," said Mark. "I was going to call you. I have some good news." Strangely, Mark did not at all sound like he was about to deliver good news. He sounded weary, possibly to be expected, with a transatlantic move to accomplish in little under a month.

"Abbott and Abbott. Yes, I heard."

Mark actually chuckled a little. "News travels fast in Manhattan."

"Didn't hurt that I happened to have lunch with Robert Abbott today. So it's true?"

"Yes. It's true."

Nick thought for a moment, contemplating the reluctant nature of his nephew's voice. "You sound more like you just confirmed to me you've got a brain tumour, boy," said Nick. "Why on earth would you take a job and make a major move that you don't sound the least bit excited about?"

At that he heard Mark laugh again. "Sorry," he said. "Planning this has been very tiring." He paused. "It was a fantastic opportunity, one I felt I could hardly refuse."

It was very like Mark to say so. "So you'll be here just after Christmas?"

"Almost literally," said Mark. "Fly to New York on the twenty-seventh."

That was coming up very quickly, indeed. "What about a place to live?"

"The firm is putting me up in a hotel until I can find a flat," Mark said.

"Nonsense," said Nick. "Leave finding a flat up to me."

"Thanks," said Mark. "It's good to have a local connection."

"I may have been living here for years," said Nick, "but I'll never be a local."

He heard Mark chuckling under his breath. "Very true."

"Well," said Nick. "You be sure to let me know when you're in town and somewhat settled in, and we can have a late holiday supper together."

"I will definitely do so," said Mark.

They said their goodbyes, and Nick replaced the receiver down on the phone. He found himself smiling despite the unsettled feeling he had about Mark making such a major decision so very suddenly, despite agreeing with Mark that the opportunity itself was too good to pass up. He thought of his sister, as well. It must have been hard for her to have two sons living abroad. Elaine must have taken some comfort in the fact that Mark would be near family.

………

"Happy Christmas, brother of mine."

Nick smiled. He wasn't crazy about holidays in and of themselves, but he did have fond memories of family gatherings in years past. "Good to hear from you, Elaine. How's your day been?"

"Busy, since we're having our Ruby Wedding party tomorrow."

Nick whistled. "How's Mark?"

"Oh, poor Mark," she said, surprising her brother. "He's putting a brave face on, but he seems so down."

"What makes you say he's down?"

"Not one thing in particular," she replied. "Just… a little more stoic and quiet than usual."

"He's probably just tired," he said, convinced that she was just probably projecting some of her own emotional issues onto her son. "He's been very busy. Arranging a move from London to New York is a lot of work. Believe me."

He heard Elaine sigh. "You're probably right," said Elaine, "though I feel like there's something he's holding back on."

"Mark's a grown man," assured Nick, "who doesn't necessarily tell his mother everything."

That elicited a chuckle from Elaine. "I'm sure you're right," she said, "but that's rich coming from a man who still calls his nephews 'boys'."

"To me they always will be," he said in response, quite seriously. "Listen. I'll be seeing him soon after he gets here, and then I'll be able to assure you then that he's just fatigued."

"I hope you're right."

………

It was Boxing Day, or at least it was back home; Nick for one was grateful to be working. Regardless of his feelings on parties in general, he would have been very glad to have been celebrating forty years of marriage with his sister and brother-in-law, and see the rest of his family. He consoled himself with thinking that soon enough his nephew would be here, the one in the family most like himself.

He had made some enquiries, and found that there was a couple of vacancies in his own building, as well as a few down the street; it all depended, of course, on whether Mark was amenable to living so close to family, or if he wanted more privacy than that.

Nick realised late on Thursday the twenty-eighth that he had still not heard from Mark. Well, he thought, the boy needs a little time to relax after the flight.

By the time it got to be late on the twenty-ninth, he was beginning to get a little concerned. He had no idea how to get hold of Mark here in New York. He tried Mark's mobile and was directed to voice mail; as much as he hated leaving messages, he left one, short and to the point. When he had no response by Saturday, he decided to give his sister a call. After all, Mark and his mother were uncommonly close, and if something had happened, if Mark's plans had changed, Elaine would know.

He wasted no time with social niceties. "Where the hell is your son?"

Elaine replied, apparently unflappable, "The most incredible thing has happened."

"More incredible than uprooting himself with less than a months' notice to live on the other side of the ocean?"

Elaine chuckled. "More incredible than that. Mark is in love."

Nick was sure that he'd misheard. "What? In love? Nonsense."

"How else can you explain his quitting his plum new job the moment he got to New York, returning to London," asked Elaine, "and going directly to her flat?"

"What?" he asked again, stupidly.

"He called me," she said smugly. "So that I wouldn't worry. But he was probably too distracted to think to call you."

"I still don't believe it. Mark is constitutionally incapable of having his head turned by a woman like that, let alone persuaded from a course of action like moving overseas and taking a prestigious job."

"This woman is rather different than most."

"You know her?"

The smile was evident in her voice when she spoke next. "I do."

"Unbelievable," he said again. "Bloody unbelievable. Oh, I have words for him."

"Nick," said Elaine. "Leave him be. He's happy."

"How can he be happy?" barked Nick. "He doesn't know what the hell he's doing."

"That remains to be seen."

"Indeed," said Nick. "Indeed. If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make."

He disconnected the call, immediately dialling Mark's mobile number. It rang several times until he was directed to voice mail. He hung up and dialled again, repeating this process five times in total before Mark picked up.

"Mark."

"Nick." There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Now is not a good time."

"Don't bloody well care if it is a good time," Nick said. "What is wrong with you, quitting your job and returning to London just for a girl?"

Surprisingly, Mark laughed. "Nothing at all wrong about it," he said. "It's the most right thing I think I've ever done."

Nick made a dismissive sound. "It's not like you, Mark, to abandon all reason like this, least of all for a woman. I thought you knew better than that. Thought you were beyond baser instincts."

"Now hold on," said Mark, his tone turning more serious, even a little bit angry. "This is not simply to satisfy those so-called baser instincts, which I seem to recall you are not above satisfying yourself. This is something very special, very different, and there was no way I could just leave not knowing."

"Mark?" It was distant, but it was distinctly a woman's voice, young-sounding and sultry as she beckoned, "Come back to bed. I miss you already."

"A very deep and intellectual connection," he said wryly, before booming, "For Heaven's sake, has she already installed herself at your house? That certainly didn't take long!"

"No," Mark said; Nick was sure that even as he spoke, he was deep crimson. "I'm at her place."

Nick remembered what Elaine had said, and asked, "Have you been there all that time?" When Mark did not answer, Nick had his answer, and continued. "Mark, heed my warning. Don't get weak on account of a pretty smile and nice perfume… and don't ruin your whole life just for a good shag."

"Uncle Nick," Mark said pointedly in a quiet tone that told Nick his nephew was furious as much as his using the title did. "We'll talk later." With that Mark disconnected the phone. Nick was astonished that Mark would dare to do such a thing.

"Yes," he said aloud to no one. "We most certainly will talk, but not later." He punched the number in once more. Mark answered immediately.

"I said 'later'."

He then disconnected again. Subsequent tries yielded Mark's voice mail message immediately. The bloody boy had turned off his phone.

Nick was livid, and threw his phone down onto the carpeted floor in his frustration.

………

As the days went by and Mark did not call, Nick was more certain than ever that it was a prematurely initiated mid-life crisis. Mark was, after all, precocious in so many other areas of life, why not this as well? There was no other logical explanation for his intelligent, sensible nephew falling victim to this girl's feminine wiles. His thoughts were consumed with how best to help Mark from the distance that separated them. He had to make Mark see the truth, to leave the girl behind and come to New York as planned.

He and Robert Abbott had arranged another lunch together prior to Mark's change of heart, and now Nick had a feeling that he would be spending the entire meal trying to make it up to the man. Nick was the first to arrive at the restaurant, and he nursed a glass of wine as he waited for his friend to show.

"Nick, sorry I'm late," said Robert, taking his seat. "Traffic was a bear. Had a hell of a time getting a cab."

"No worries," said Nick. "I ordered a glass of the house special red for you. Know how much you like it."

"Many thanks," he said, swirling the ruby wine around in the glass, smelling it, then taking a long draw. "Much better." He leaned forward. "So. Just to get the elephant up and out of the room. What on earth happened with your nephew? Made it all the way here just to turn around and go back? The rumours are not to be believed, but our Ms Glenville insists that this is about some blonde."

"I can't say for certain what's going through his head," said Nick truthfully. "I hope that when the dust settles and he comes to his senses, you would consider offering him the position again. This—whatever 'this' is—is very unlike him. I hope you know that."

Robert nodded. "I trust your word and your judgment, Nick," said Robert, "and should he reconsider we would be happy to have him. I can, however, only keep the offer open so long before we'll need to look elsewhere."

"I understand," said Nick, "and appreciate your generosity."

"Mm, give it no thought. We do, after all, want the best. Though I will say," said Robert with a smirk, "that I'm quite amused to hear the very straight-laced and responsible Mark Darcy losing his head over a pretty young thing. Never would have believed it possible."

"Apparently it is," Nick said drolly, "and believe me, I'm considering hopping the next flight back to London to take him by the ear and set him straight."

At that moment, the waitress came to take their orders; Nick went for the rabbit again, and unsurprisingly, Robert got the aged sirloin. When she departed, Robert set off onto other more mundane subjects like expected high court legal opinions and political talk; it seemed discussion of Mark was over, and for that, Nick was somewhat grateful.

He was, however, seriously considering a visit back to his native land to tackle the problem directly.

………

"Oh, honestly, Nick," said Elaine. "There's no need for such drastic measures."

The call from Elaine to let him know that Malcolm had whisked her off for a second honeymoon to the Big Apple had taken him aback, but he was nonetheless happy to see them. They had taken their first Saturday afternoon in town to visit with him, and he was preparing a special lunch in their honour, fresh seafood and pasta.

"You don't think an intervention is appropriate?" Nick asked. "It doesn't sound like either of you have made the slightest attempt to reason with him."

"His Bridget is a lovely girl. Lovely," said Malcolm, who'd already had a tumbler of Nick's best scotch. "There's certainly no need to employ reason when it comes to someone as cute as she is. Glad my boy's finally relaxed a bit, is enjoying life—he's done well for himself in this world, and I'm proud of him, but it has honestly concerned me that he has always been too serious, too hardworking at the expense of all else."

Nick, also proud of Mark's accomplishments, thought them proof positive that there was nothing wrong with being too hard-working, and was about to say so when his sister spoke up.

"Mark is very happy," said Elaine with a smile. "Never seen him so happy, so smitten by a woman, and the smile on his face… in fact, I saw him smiling more on New Year's Day alone than the past ten years combined!"

"Of course he's smiling like an idiot all the time," said Nick in a jaded tone. "He's getting laid on a regular basis."

"Nick!" scolded Elaine. "No need for such vulgar talk. In any case, it is much more than that. When you meet her, you'll see."

Little minx has them all in her thrall, thought Nick. "I'll never meet her," he then declared. "Mark my words. She won't stick around that long."

"I'm surprised you're not trying to accuse her of being a gold-digger," said Malcolm wryly.

"Malcolm!" said Elaine. "Don't put such a thought in his mind."

"It's a very serious consideration!" said Nick, pointing his spoon at his sister. "She very well could be after his substantial assets, just like his ex-wife."

Elaine made a dismissive sound. "Now Natasha I would have said that about."

"Elaine, you're just being blind," said Nick. "You'll see I'm right."

………

Nick felt like all he did lately was talk on the telephone. It rang early as he was preparing to head downtown to court. He abandoned his usual preference for speakerphone and swept the receiver up in his hand. "Nick Wentworth."

"Nick. It's Mark."

Despite what he thought about the tart with whom Mark had tangled himself up, he grinned to hear his nephew's voice. "Mark. Surfacing at last?"

"This is why I'm calling," said Mark, serious as ever. "It bothers me, your insinuations that my new girlfriend is nothing but a—" He hesitated.

Nick was quick to fill in the blank. "Floozy?"

"Nick," he said again, clearly irritated.

"Mark," he said sharply in return. "You're acting like a fool, turning down the job offer of a lifetime, all for a girl—" He said the word with clear distaste. "—you'll likely tire of in a month. You're lucky Robert Abbott's such an easygoing fellow. I've ensured the job's available for you when you're thinking with the right head again."

"There is nothing wrong with my thinking," said Mark dangerously. "This is the clearest my thinking has been in years, and I don't need you making arrangements for me as if I'm some addled child. As for your attitude towards Bridget, I won't have it. She is very dear to me, and you will show her the respect she deserves."

"Respect must be earned, dear boy," said Nick, "and so far the only thing I know about her is that she misses you if you're too long out of bed."

"If you opened your mind and stopped being so bloody judgmental," said Mark, "you would find that she is a very warm, giving, down-to-earth woman."

"You're blinded by lust," said Nick.

"I'm not." Mark sighed heavily. "You're as wrong about her as I once was," he said. "When you meet her you will realise how wrong you were."

"I have no intention of returning to the UK within the month," said Nick dryly, "so it's unlikely a meeting shall ever occur."

"If you insist on this hostility—" began Mark.

"Listen, boy," said Nick sternly. "I have been around the block a few times. I think I know what I'm talking about. I would think too that you would have learned your lesson the last time."

Mark was silent at that reference to his first (and failed) marriage. "That was not the same."

"You still married her."

"I didn't know what I was doing."

"And how can you be sure you know what you're doing now?"

"Because I l—"

Mark stopped short, but not soon enough for Nick to hear the first letter of that dreaded L-word. "You do, do you?" Nick chuckled. "Oh, Mark. When the inevitable happens, in the painful aftermath, you can always come to me. I'll try not to be too smug and say 'I told you so'."

A very loud sigh of exasperation came from Mark, a sign he knew he was not going to win this fight. "I have to go. We'll speak soon."

"Take care of yourself, Mark," he said, not without feeling; after all, he did care deeply about his nephew.

"I am," said Mark, the adversarial edge gone to his voice. Nick knew no permanent tension would remain.

………

Nick did not take pride in being right when it delivered even a modicum of pain to someone he loved, but, as it turned out, he was right in Mark's case.

"He's so low," said his sister from an ocean away. "He was so happy with her. They were so happy together. I'm not sure what happened to drive a wedge like this between them."

"I did try to warn him," said Nick. "He was probably not generous enough with his chequebook."

"Whatever you do," said Elaine dangerously, "do not say such a thing to Mark."

"Elaine," he said in affront. "I would not kick a man while he's down."

"You certainly had no problem kicking him when he was up." He was about to retort when she sighed, and he thought perhaps it best to cease and desist. "I really thought he'd marry her."

Nick couldn't help sputtering a laugh. "Thank God he didn't go that far. He doesn't need his track record further sullied."

"Nick, you're hopeless," said Elaine. "It's no wonder you never married."

"You say that like it's something to be ashamed of," replied Nick.

"You're hopeless," she said again, laughing this time. "And you're missing out on something wonderful."

"I don't have to be married to have something wonderful," he said.

"You should call Mark," she went on. "He could use the support."

"You worry too much. This is nothing and he'll be fine in no time at all. Besides, he has you," said Nick. "Not to mention he'll only think I'm calling to gloat."

"He's too proud to call you," said Elaine.

"I guess we'll talk when we talk. If he needs me, he knows where I am."

………

The communication stalemate was broken almost a month and a half later when Mark phoned him just after the lunch recess had begun for a meeting Nick was attending at the Plaza Hotel. "Nick," he said. The connection was uncommonly good. "Are you busy?"

No mention at all of their previous disagreement, which was just fine as far as Nick was concerned. He had been right, but he had no need to revel in it.

"I was just about to have something to eat," said Nick. "Is there something I can do for you, my boy?"

"Mind if I join you?"

The sudden sensation of Mark's voice in stereo sound, coupled with the tap on his upper arm, explained the good connection: His nephew was standing there beside him. He was shocked not only by his presence, but his appearance. Mark had a feeble attempt at a smile on his face, but otherwise he looked completely wrecked, and not just because of a long flight. He looked pale, gaunt, and tired; his posture was rather more slumped than Nick was used to seeing. "Mark," said Nick. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Your assistant said you were here for a meeting," he said, snapping his mobile closed. "I'm staying here while in town on business. Thought I might surprise you."

"And surprised I am. Always good to see you," he said, which was not a lie. "Lunch is my treat."

Nick and his nephew were seated without delay in one of the more private sections in the dining room. They ordered red wine and beef bourguignon. Immediately after the departure of their server, Nick asked, "Here for work, hm?"

"Yes," said Mark. "Haven't taken a case that required travelling in a while, but I find that I am in need of such distraction these days." He looked down, ostensibly fixing his napkin on his lap. "I'm considering a change of scenery altogether, taking that position here in New York."

Nick was even more shocked Mark would say so, considering how adamant he was about not taking it in December. "You're worse than a five year old girl," he said. "New York, London, New York. Make up your bloody mind."

Mark actually chuckled at that.

Nick continued, "After all of that drama, what's swayed you back in this direction?"

"The need for a clean start," he said, his voice soft and quite unlike him, before he cleared his throat and spoke again, the tone and bearing far more professional and businesslike than it had been… perhaps more so than it should have been, given the circumstance. "She's over me, she's moved on, and I cannot bear it. So I must move on as well."

Nick was relieved of the need to reply by the appearance of the sommelier, who poured their wine. Nick picked up his glass and took a long draw, then said, "So was there another man from the start?"

Mark's eyes, dark and hooded, flashed up to look at his uncle. "What? No."

"You sound awfully sure."

"We didn't split up because of another man. We split up because I…" He paused. "I wasn't good enough."

"You weren't good enough?" Nick asked in utter disbelief. "I suspect what wasn't good enough was your bank balance."

He exhaled loudly. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Is it because I was right?"

Mark took his napkin off of his lap and threw it down onto the table, backing his chair away. "I'm leaving."

Nick laughed at the drama of the gesture. "Oh, Mark, no need to storm off like a jilted bride," he said. "If I'm paying for your lunch, you're staying to eat it."

Mark did not leave but did not pull his chair back to the table either.

"I don't want to talk about this because what's done is done, and there isn't anything I can do to change things," said Mark. "I'm trying to move past it."

Their meals arrived and they paused in conversation to begin eating.

"Are you serious? About New York, I mean. Working with Abbott & Abbott."

"Yes," said Mark, but his tone was unconvincing.

Nick allowed him this momentary self-delusion. "Well. You'll learn a lot from Robert."

"Yes," conceded Mark.

"That's all well and good," Nick began. "Now let's have your real reason."

One thing Nick had learned over the years was if one did not get the result one wanted right away, to keep battering at it until one did. Mark seemed thus defeated. "If I saw her with him," said Mark quietly, "I wouldn't trust myself."

"Trust yourself?"

"Not to go and beat the living hell out of him."

This surprised Nick; he had been expecting something akin Mark admitting to wanting to run away and lick his wounds, or regrouping until he was back to his old self again, not sentiments that spoke of jealousy, of continued feelings for this girl. Mark's expression, his continuing to dwell on it so many weeks after the fact—Mark was truly troubled. Nick needed to snap him out of it. "Bollocks," said Nick before stuffing another bite into his mouth. After swallowing, he said, "You're a preeminent lawyer at the top of your game. You are not some lovesick puppy. Haven't you learned your lesson by this? Forget her."

"Were it only that easy," said Mark softly.

"It'll be easier once you're here for good." With that he really dug into his lunch, and conversation turned to matters unrelated to the heart and soul, which was just as well in Nick's opinion. Besides, thought Nick, he'll meet some other blonde in no time at all, and this Bridget girl will be a distant though painful memory.

………

It had been some time, much longer than usual, since he'd heard from his nephew once Mark's brief visit to New York had concluded. Elaine hinted that Mark was on some big case, flying all over the world, but didn't want to say anything more about it. "I'm sure he'll call when he can," said Elaine.

"How's the boy doing?" asked Nick.

"Much better," she said, and the lightness of her tone suggested that he was, in fact, improving. "I normally would not suggest immersing oneself in work to get over a personal hardship, but in this case it seems to be working."

"Good, good."

The subject changed and did not touch upon Mark again. When another week went by and still no word from him, Nick became terribly concerned.

It was his sister, calling quite in a state far too early in the morning, that relieved his initial concerns… and formed brand new ones.

"You will never guess what has happened," said Elaine, sounding quite like a little girl on Christmas morning.

"This had better be good," said Nick, rubbing his eyes, looking at the clock. It was four in the morning.

"I'm sorry, I know it's early," said Elaine, "but I just had to talk to you right away."

"For Christ's sake, Elaine," said Nick. "On with it."

"Mark's engaged!" she burst out happily.

Nick could not find the words; he was certain he misheard. "I did not just hear you say Mark is engaged."

"But he is, and I could not be happier!"

"Who on earth could he possibly be engaged to?" As he asked the question, he had a sinking feeling he knew.

"Why, Bridget, of course! They've worked out their differences—"

"What?!" Nick exploded. "Does he plan on making a collection of stick-thin, tight-arsed, sunken-cheeked, emotionless ex-wives?"

"Nicholas," said Elaine sternly; she only used his full name when she was really peeved. "Will you trust me when I say she is very, very good for him?"

"I won't," he said crossly, "because she's clearly got you all under her spell like the conniving witch she is."

Elaine sighed heavily. "Sometimes I think there is no hope for you," she said.

"And sometimes I think if it weren't for me you'd all be living in Cloud-Cuckoo-Land," he said in irritation.

Elaine made a dismissive sound. "At least offer your congratulations to him," said Elaine. "He's over-the-moon happy."

"I will do no such thing," said Nick.

"Give her a chance, Nick," said Elaine. "At least agree to meet her. You do realise it's been since last Christmas that they've been together." She was clearly referring to his prediction that she wouldn't be around for longer than a few weeks.

"Yes, with a big breakup in between. Hardly a ringing endorsement."

"He loves her, Nick," said Elaine plaintively. "He never even said that about his first wife, or the last woman he was with, that dreadful Natasha—an overly polished, tight-arsed (to borrow your phrase) ice-queen more interested in appearances and being part of our family than having any feelings at all for Mark." The irritation in her voice was rising, and she stopped, took in a breath, then spoke again, sounding more like herself. "Bridget is like a breath of fresh air through a musty room, and I'll eat my best hat, feathers and all, if you don't end up agreeing."

Nick knew there would be no getting through to them; eventually he would have to travel back to London and set them all straight. For now, though, he decided to concede nothing more than agreeing to meet her.

"I'll send my well-wishes to Mark for you, then."

"Elaine," he said in a dark tone.

"Fine, fine," said Elaine. "But you must promise me that you'll call him and not berate his bride-to-be." The giddiness in her voice was not to be believed.

"I'll call him," he grumbled. "For now, I'm going back to sleep."

………

Robert Abbott and Nick had managed to keep up doing weekly lunches together, to remain caught up and current in the legal world. In the middle of the next such luncheon, Robert's mobile phone began to ring. He silenced the ringer, looked at the incoming caller window, and his eyes shot up in surprise. Nick wondered who it could be.

"Let me take this," said Robert. "You'll be interested, too." He flipped open the phone and said his name in greeting. "Good to hear from you." Robert glanced to Nick as he listened to whatever it was his caller was telling him. "Well, I do appreciate your calling to let me know definitively. I'm surprised Nick didn't say something; we've been talking over lunch." He looked up and met Nick's eyes, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Congratulations." After a pause, during which Nick guessed who was on the phone, he said, "Yes, he's right here with me. Sure. One moment." He stretched out his arm, handing the phone to Nick. "It's your nephew."

Nick had not in fact called Mark as he had promised his sister, but really had intended to. "Mark."

"Nick," said Mark, a bare hint of amusement in his voice. "I have a distinct feeling you're avoiding me."

"Well, you're engaged to—" said Nick before stopping himself, remembering where he was and in whose company. "Well."

"Not wanting to unload on me in present company?" he said, evidently still in good spirits. "I know how you feel, and I'm not stupid enough to try to convince you over the phone… but you're wrong. I'll leave it to your actually meeting Bridget to realise it."

"Mark, you know I only have your best interests at heart—" Nick said quietly.

"I know you do," said Mark. "But there's nothing you can say to me that'll change how I feel. This is it, Nick; I really feel it. To think how I nearly ruined things…"

It was Robert ahemming under his breath that brought his attention back to the present, and to the fact that he was on the man's phone. "Mark," he said, "we'll talk again soon. I have to go."

"I know you'll be happy for me, when all is said and done," said Mark. "Take care."

Nick muttered a goodbye before hanging up and giving Robert his phone back.

"I take it you don't approve of his intended," said Robert.

"Not at all. She's a devious little trollop clearly after his money," said Nick, "with the advantage over his rather frosty first wife of being quite warm-blooded and not afraid to demonstrate it. Men will do anything for a girl willing to be at their beck and call."

"Nick," said Robert seriously. "You've never met her, have you?"

"I've never met the girl, no," confirmed Nick.

"So how can you disapprove of a woman you've never met?"

"Mark… hasn't shown the best judgment in the past when it comes to women. During his first marriage he broke the land-speed record for getting cheated on."

"Ohhh, ouch," said Robert in sympathy. "Perhaps he's learned his lesson."

Nick shook his head. "I would not count on it."

"What does your sister think about it?"

"She approves," said Nick, "but next to his first wife, she'd approve of anyone in a dress, I think. He's just not got his head on straight, and I'm rightfully worried."

The boy had gone mad, no two ways around it. Now was not the time nor the place. Once his workload lessened a bit—likely sometime into next spring, he thought wryly—he could pay a visit and bring down the hammer on this ill-fated match.

The end.