Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (20 page)

Miranda drew her into the lecture hall,
pointing out a podium situated atop a large wooden stage. 

“That is where Lord Bishop will speak,
Alexandra.”  The lecture hall was of medium size.  Rows of chairs
lined the interior of the room.  Watercolor paintings of exotic birds,
some so realistic they seemed to leap off the canvas, sat on easels against the
walls. Alexandra looked at the paintings in wonder.  She could not wait to
examine each one in detail.

“Aren’t they beautiful?”  Miranda
looked at the paintings, mesmerized by the colors and depictions of birds as
well.  “Lord Bishop is having engravings made for a book.  I’ve
already ordered a copy from Thrumbadge’s.” 

 Alexandra nodded in agreement and
pointed to a sign, which read, ‘Zoological Exhibition of Lord Bishop’. “Is that
where the animals are?” 

“Yes, although I’m not sure what is
contained within.  Cam said there were monkeys.”

Alexandra consulted the small pamphlet
purchased outside.  Lord Bishop’s collection was extensive, according to
the pamphlet, and contained not only monkeys but also birds and tropical
plants.  She rubbed her temple.  Her headache throbbed dully and the
closeness of the crowd made her a trifle dizzy.   She shook her head
to clear it. 

Miranda lifted an eyebrow in question,
then took her arm again, making an effort to match her longer strides to
Alexandra’s shorter ones.

 “There are my friends, Lady Atkins
and her brother, Lord Atkins.”  Miranda waved in the direction of an
attractive young girl with glasses and a man about Alexandra’s age.  “Oh
my,
and
Lord Tasterly.”  Miranda blushed furiously, which only
served to make her more attractive. 

Alexandra watched in amazement as Miranda
transformed under Lord Tasterly’s regard.  Miranda’s dark lashes slid over
her green eyes in a coy manner.  She gave the young man a shy smile, so
unlike her usual confident, grin. Alexandra found her unrecognizable as the
chattering bluestocking she adored.  Clearly, Lord Tasterly piqued Miranda’s
interest.

“Lord Tasterly,” the name escaped
Miranda’s lips in a whisper, “is quite handsome, don’t’ you think Alexandra?”

Alexandra did indeed find Lord Tasterly
attractive.  His hair, a dark brown, curled pleasingly around his
ears.  His gaze, rife with adoration for Miranda, worshipped her from
where he stood.  He plucked at his neatly trimmed mustache and smiled
broadly at Miranda’s approach.

Lady Atkins, dressed in pale yellow and
resembling a studious canary, waved furiously to Miranda, motioning her to come
forward.   “Lady Reynolds!  I wondered when you would get
here.  Lady Atkin’s brown eyes shone behind her glasses. “I hoped I would
see you before the lecture started.  We can all sit together.” Her eyes
widened as if in secret code to Miranda.  No doubt it had to do with Lord
Tasterly.

“Lady Atkins, Lord Atkins, Lord
Tasterly.”  Miranda greeted the three with a slight nod of her head. 
Both men bowed to Miranda and Lady Atkins dipped in a small curtsy. 
Miranda, as the sister of a Marquess, outranked them all. 

Lord Tasterly grasped Miranda’s gloved
hand and brushed it with his lips.  He was clearly delighted to see
Miranda.  “Lady Reynolds!  I hoped we would run into each other
here.  How many times have you told me the story of your brother’s monkey?” 
His hazel gaze ran down her form in appreciation.  “You are as pretty as a
rose.”

Miranda blushed again and gave him a coy
look.  “A rose?  Such a common flower.  As an amateur botanist,
I hoped for a more creative comparison from you.”

Lord Tasterly’s eyes lit up at Miranda’s
flirtatious reply.  Lord Reynolds liked to flirt. The image of his tall
form leaning against the wall in the atrium flashed through her mind. 
Stubbornly she pushed him away.  She must not think of him.  She was
to be married to a lovely man.  Her gut clenched painfully.  A simply
lovely man.

“May I present my friend, Miss Dunforth.”
Miranda introduced her.

Lady Atkins and Lord Tasterly greeted her
politely.  Lord Atkins held her hand a moment longer than necessary. 
He winked at her, squeezing her fingers tight. 

Shocked at his forward behavior, she
looked to see if Miranda or Lady Atkins noticed.  No one was
watching.  The two ladies listened to Lord Tasterly with rapt attention as
he led them to a row of chairs.

“May I, Miss Dunforth?”  Lord Atkins
made a sweeping gesture, allowing her to follow the trio ahead of him. 

Alexandra walked carefully up the
aisle.  Lord Atkins’s stare bored into her back.  What a rude
man!  His actions towards her were much too familiar.

“Ladies,” Lord Tasterly said from up
ahead, “let us sit.”  He directed Miranda and Lady Atkins into a row of
seats. 

Lord Atkins moved swiftly from behind
Alexandra and put himself next to Lord Tasterly, seating Alexandra next to the
aisle and furthest away from the other two women.   He waited until
she was seated and said, “Dunforth, I’m certain I’ve heard the name bandied
about.”

Alexandra gave Lord Atkins a confused
look.  She was certain they had never met.   He didn’t look the
least familiar.   If his sister was a friend of Miranda’s, possibly
Alexandra had been introduced to him.

“Lord Atkins, I am at a disadvantage.
Have we met?”  Alexandra’s mouth was dry as cotton and it gave her voice a
raspy quality. She was terribly thirsty.  She could do with a cup of
tea.  Lord Atkins made her very uncomfortable.

Lord Atkins leered at her.  He
assessed her bodice with shocking frankness.   “Oh!  But I know
you.” He whispered into her ear.  “I’ve met your uncle at the gaming
tables.  What a terrible faro player he is, but you likely knew that. 
I’m a business associate of Mr. Runyon.  His eyes roved over her body,
resettling on her bosom.  “You don’t look the type, truth be told.” 
He smacked his lips.

Alexandra pursed her lips. “And what type
is that Lord Atkins?”  Her temples throbbed.  She waited for his
answer even though she wanted to sprint as fast as she could from this
disturbing conversation.

“The type that Mr. Runyon likes.” He
winked again.  “You’ve the look of an innocent about you.  I must
say, I find it quite desirable as well.  That bodes well for any future
acquaintance, don’t you think?

Alexandra sat, stunned into
silence.  What did he refer to?  The words and tone spoke of
depravity, as did the way he continued to look at the tops of her breasts. The
urge to flee became stronger.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lord
Atkins. I find your tone overfamiliar.”

“No need to be distressed, Miss
Dunforth.”  His fingertips grazed her knee.

Alexandra jumped.  She shrank back
from Lord Atkins.

 “I meant no offense.” His voice was
smooth and reassuring.  “Mr. Runyon and I have similar tastes. 
There’s no need to pretend shyness around me.  You should look on me as a
friend. I would certainly never betray Mr. Runyon’s confidence.”  Lord
Atkins’s stare, his eyes like black pebbles, hardened on her.

  What did he insinuate?  
Her hands trembled. “If you don’t mind, Lord Bishop is walking towards the
podium and I would like to listen to his lecture.” 

Lord Atkins chuckled softly.  “As
you will, Miss Dunforth.  It wouldn’t do for the others to get wind of
anything would it?”  He threw a look at Miranda. “Especially Lady
Reynolds, the daughter of Mr. Runyon’s
dear
cousin.” He turned and faced
the podium.

The dread Alexandra felt, the smothering
feeling of despair, reared up again inside her.   Her hand twitched
in her lap.    Anxiously, she stood, her knees nearly buckling
underneath her.

Lord Atkins didn’t spare her a
glance.   She saw the hint of a smile on his lips. Her distress
amused him.

Miranda’s head peeked around Lord
Tasterly. “Miss Dunforth?  Are you going somewhere?  Lord Bishop is
about to begin.”

“I simply need refreshment.  My
throat is quite dry.  I believe I saw a lemon ice vendor in the atrium. I
shall return promptly.”  Her voice stammered out of her, sounding guttural
as she choked on her words.  Dread and despair mixed until it formed a
large stone sitting in her chest.  If she stayed, she would not be able to
breathe.  Lord Atkins’s comments made her ill.  Doomed. Trapped like
some wild animal.  Perhaps she could catch a hackney outside. 
Home.  Tea.  She wanted nothing more.

  Miranda rose to accompany her.

Alexandra put up a hand to stay
her.  “I’ll just be a moment, Lady Reynolds.  Please don’t fret.”
Alexandra flicked a glance at Lord Tasterly who was watching Lord Bishop mount
the podium. “Besides, you’ll miss the lecture.”

Miranda sat back down.  “I don’t
know where Cam is.  If you see him, tell my brother I’ve saved him a
seat.  She patted a chair to her left.

Lord Tasterly turned his attention from
Lord Bishop.  His pleasant expression disappeared and his face
paled.  “Lord Reynolds is joining us?” 

 “Yes of course.  You didn’t
expect us to be without escort did you?” Miranda gave a shy chuckle turning
from Alexandra.

It was all the distraction Alexandra
needed.  She stood and fled down the aisle.  Sliding through the
walnut doors at the end of the room, she found herself back in the
foyer.   Sun shone through the skylight above her.  Devoid of
the crowd, the foyer was quiet, even peaceful.   Now, she need only avoid
Lord Reynolds.

Alexandra turned towards the main
entrance.  Lord Reynolds may be lurking just outside.  Her gaze
flicked to the right.  A sign for the Ladies Necessary Room sat
prominently displayed, so she turned.  Miranda would search for her there
if Alexandra did not return to the lecture hall. The corridor to the left had a
sign posted before it.  ‘Exhibition of the Flora and Fauna Discovered by
Lord Bishop.’  She spun on her heel and made for the exhibition.  A
back entrance could be found there.  She would make her escape and hail a
hackney. 

Her temples ached. She needed her
tea.  Lord Atkins’s words rang in her head.  Miranda’s pained
expression in the carriage flashed before her eyes.  Her thoughts jumbled.
She could not make a connection between the two incidences. 

Turning the corner, the familiar musky
smell of animals and hay assailed her nostrils.    The aroma
comforted her.  Calmed her.  If she closed her eyes, she could
imagine herself in the barn at Helmsby Abbey.  Tears welled in her
eyes.  She wanted to go home.  After her marriage, Alexandra intended
to take the first coach to Hampshire.  Mr. Runyon promised.  

Alexandra marveled at the transformation
of this section of the Exhibition Hall.  Plants abounded from various
corners, their pots cleverly hidden to give the appearance of walking into a
jungle.  Rich, earthly aromas filled the air. The hall was deserted. According
to the pamphlet, Lord Bishop would lead a guided tour into this part of the
exhibition after his lecture.  Alexandra moved forward, taking a deep
breath.   The urge to flee lessened.

A loud screech made her jump. 
Clasping hands to her heart, she laughed at her own foolishness.  The
screech came from the cage before her.  Cautiously, so as not to startle
the inhabitant of the cage, she tiptoed closer.   

A mass of palm fronds wiggled back and
forth, quivering as if someone or something hid behind them.  The fronds
jiggled wildly, batted by an unseen hand.

Entranced, Alexandra moved until her nose
nearly touched the cage bars.   She didn’t move.

Curious black button eyes peered at her
from behind a frond. 

Alexandra smiled.

The eyes disappeared. Two tiny brown
hands clutched the frond.  The frond shook. 

“Hello, little man.” Alexandra
whispered. 

A small face emerged.  Covered with
dark fur, the eyes outlined in black, the expression on the face was one of
interest.

Alexandra forgot about leaving in her
desire to examine the monkey.  She unrolled the pamphlet she still
clutched in her hand slowly, not wanting to frighten the animal.  
The pamphlet contained illustrations of various animals Lord Bishop had
collected for the exhibition. She flipped several pages until she found the
engraving she sought.

“There you are.”  Alexandra gave her
friend a tiny triumphant smile.  “You are a capuchin monkey.” 

One small hand, the fingers tiny and
black, rose up and reached towards Alexandra.

Alexandra held her breath. 

The animal chattered.  The hand
retreated. 

She thought back to the story of Jonas,
Lord Reynolds monkey that smoked opium and wore a hat.  That seemed a
lifetime ago.  Pain lanced through her breast.  The panic returned,
along with fear and loneliness.  She sucked in a breath.  Alexandra
rarely cried, but in the last few weeks the urge to do so was with her
daily.  If she burst into tears, only her new friend, the monkey would
witness her lack of composure.

“I am so sorry you are in a cage.” 

The monkey’s head bobbed in
agreement. 

“If I could, I would set you free. 
But then, you would be alone in London, with no one to help you.”  She
wiggled a gloved finger at the animal.  “I know what that feels like. I
would not wish that for you, my friend.”  She put a hand to her mouth,
trying to stem the despair erupting from her lips “I miss my home as well.” Her
voice broke.