Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (28 page)

Sutton regarded him with an unwavering
stare.  “Your betrothed is of no import to me, other than that she is a
woman, perhaps in need of assistance.  A woman under my roof is in my
care.  Do I make myself clear?”

Alexandra swallowed.  It was true
then.  Sutton had no affection for her.  He would leave her to her
fate.

Mr. Runyon’s nostrils flared in
irritation.  He pulled at Alexandra.

“Don’t.”  Sutton stepped
forward.  “If you persist, you will force me to explain your demise at my
hands to the crowd assembled in the ballroom.  And the reasons for it.”

The hall became deathly quiet. 

Mr. Runyon’s voice was soft.  “You
wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Archie flung Alexandra away from him, his
face full of loathing, his breathing choppy from fear.

She fell to her knees and leaned against
the paneled wall. 

“You have no proof, Cam. 
None.  The ravings of a dead man.”  Archie lifted his chin. “The
scandal would destroy any hope either of your sisters has for a decent
marriage.  Think of the shame the Dowager would endure.”

“Do you think I care a fig for
scandal?  I’d much rather you were dead,” Sutton drawled.

Mr. Runyon backed away from Sutton, his
hands clenched into fists.  The comparison between the two men was
laughable, a pampered housecat attempting to challenge a panther.

Alexandra pushed her head against the
wall.  Nausea rolled through her.

“Miss Dunforth?”  Sutton said
softly.  “Please get up and go down the hall.   The door is
closed, but Harry stands outside.   Will you recognize Harry?”

Alexandra slid herself farther down the
wall, not daring to look at Mr. Runyon. She nodded yes to Sutton.

Sutton’s hand rested gently on her arm as
he helped her up.  “Allow me.”

Alexandra could hear Mr. Runyon panting in
frustration. “Don’t you dare, Alexandra!  I shall throw them all
out.  Mrs. Cowries.”

Alexandra gasped.  He knew her
housekeeper’s name!

“Oh yes.” He’d noted her distress. “I’ve
seen them all.  I will throw them out.  Make them beggars.  Your
slow witted groom, Michael?  Who will employ him and see that his ill
mother is fed?  And Mrs Cowries?  I suppose begging in the streets
will suit her.”  Mr. Runyon snarled. “I shall destroy Helmsby Abbey brick
by brick.”

“No!”  Alexandra sobbed.  She
shook off Sutton’s hand.  “I have to –“

Sutton stared down at her. 
“Badger?  Is this what you want?”

“Of course it’s what she wants!  The
contracts are signed, Cam.  Not even you, the great Marquess of Cambourne
can undo that legal document.”  Spittle formed at the corner of Mr.
Runyon’s mouth.  

Sutton inhaled deeply.  “Alex?”

Alexandra looked at the two men. 
Terrified and in a panic, she simply could not think.  Her head
ached. 

“Mr. Runyon, my head aches.  I wish
a small respite to-“

“Fine.  You had better appear in a
quarter of an hour or I shall come looking for you, Alexandra.  And I will
not be pleased.   Your defiance tonight has cost you one
retainer.  I shall tell you later which one it is to be.”

Alexandra put a hand to her mouth and
gasped in physical pain.

“Archie, if you do not walk away now, I
will kill you where you stand.”

“Please, Mr. Runyon –“

“Remember, Alexandra.  I hold
Helmsby Abbey. ” Mr. Runyon jerked a thumb at Sutton. “He cannot help
you.  Only I can.  Fifteen minutes.”  Mr. Runyon strode down the
hall to the ballroom.

“Badger?”

“Please, Sutton.”  She clutched at
his arm. “I cannot speak about this now.  I need to sit.  My
head.  I need my tea.”

Sutton shot her a curious look, but said
nothing. 

Alexandra inhaled deeply of the cinnamon
scent that swirled around him.  She felt some of the tension ease from her
body at his closeness.  How she wished to wrap her arms around his body,
to bury herself and her misery within him.  Did he feel anything for her
except a sense of duty?

Not daring to break the spell his
presence wove around her, she desperately tried to ignore the rising panic
within her breast.  Fifteen minutes with Sutton was all she would ever
have.

A quarter of an hour.  That was all
the time given Alexandra before she must put herself back in that monster’s
hands.  She looked down at the floor, contemplating her fate, wishing the
ache in her head did not match the one in her heart.  The gray silk of her
skirts brushed against Sutton’s long legs as he walked her down the
hall.   Warmth from the large body next to her seemed to waft
underneath the gown, comforting her. Calming her.  She was safe, for the
moment.  Mr. Runyon’s words shouted inside her head.  The vile words,
threatening all she held dear if she did not return to him.  The thought
of that man touching her, caused her to stumble.

Sutton caught her arm in a firm
grip.  Still, he said nothing.

A lump caught in her throat.  Sutton
rescued her, but not out of affection.  He saw her as a responsibility,
where once he desired her.  Alexandra glanced from underneath her lashes
to look at his dark profile. The dark locks of his hair fell forward across his
cheekbones, the ends curling around the edges of his collar.  The smell of
cinnamon, exotic and sensual, buffeted around her.  The need Alexandra
felt for this man, this intense yearning, was beyond her comprehension. 

She looked back down at the floor,
desolate.  Sutton was lost to her.  Her association with Mr. Runyon sufficiently
snuffed out any emotion Sutton may have once felt for her.  Mr.
Runyon.  Her betrothed.  The hand clutching Sutton’s sleeve shook
with emotion. 

Harry stood guard outside a paneled
door.  The young footman greeted Sutton before glancing curiously at
Alexandra.  He discreetly turned his eyes from her disheveled state and
tapped at the door with his knuckles before giving Sutton entry.

Sutton pushed her forward with a gentle
hand.

Had Alexandra been in a different frame
of mind she would have marveled over the lovely little parlor.  The walls,
painted a light cream, were stenciled with flowers, bees, dragonflies, and
other woodland creatures.  Soothing and tranquil, the parlor’s atmosphere
was a balm to her jarred nerves.  She desperately wished for a pot of her
special tea.

 Miranda and the Dowager sat on a
green velvet couch embroidered with butterflies.  Their heads were bent
together.  Surprised by her appearance in the parlor, and on Sutton’s arm,
they looked first at Sutton, then at Alexandra.    Miranda
appeared more than surprised.  A guilty look crossed her lovely features
for a split second.  Alexandra’s mind played tricks on her, for what did
Miranda have to feel guilty about?

“Alexandra?  Whatever are you doing
here?” Miranda’s eyes widened as she took in Alexandra’s agitated state.

The Dowager, her surprise now under
control, merely lifted a brow.

“I tore my gown.” Alexandra muttered
stupidly.  “I tripped.  Lord Reynolds happened upon me and offered to
escort me here, Lady Reynolds, in the hopes a maid could be found to repair the
damage.”  The words came out in a rush.   Alexandra felt her
cheeks flame as the lie rolled off her tongue. 

The Dowager turned her gaze on Sutton.

“Yes, my grandson seems to ever be
happening
upon you, Miss Dunforth.” Her tone was crisp.  “I find it
fascinating.”  She cleared her throat.  “Why has your betrothed
allowed you to roam without escort? Perhaps Miss Dunforth, you have had a
change of heart?”

The Dowager stared her down until
Alexandra wisely looked away. 

“I…I could not remember where the room
set aside for the female guests was located so -“

The Dowager lifted a gloved hand,
effectively halting Alexandra’s pathetic explanation and gave a small
snort.  Her emerald green gaze pierced Alexandra.

“I can see you need a refreshment. 
Tearing one’s gown, accidently, can be very traumatic, especially since your
betrothal shall be announced shortly. I see the thought of becoming betrothed,
in a torn gown, has caused you to weep.” The Dowager gestured to Alexandra’s
tear-stained cheeks.  She patted a spot on the couch next to her. 
“The Madeira is excellent.”

Trembling and trying to maintain what
composure she had left, Alexandra gingerly perched on the edge of the sofa.

The Dowager handed Alexandra a glass filled
with a dark, ruby-colored liquid.  “Drink up.  It shall restore
you.”  The elderly woman watched as Alexandra took several sips of the
wine.   

Alexandra closed her eyes in pleasure,
reveling in the warmth the wine spilled through her veins.  She did not
wish to imagine what awaited her after she left the safety of the Dowager’s
parlor.  Responsibility warred with self-preservation.  Her mind
reeled in panic.  Her hand shook as she pressed the wine to her lips
again.

“Sutton, have you congratulated Miss
Dunforth on her impending nuptials?”

Alexandra choked.  The wine sloshed
in her glass.  The Dowager seemed determined to work Alexandra’s fate into
every sentence. 

Sutton gave his grandmother an appraising
look and spoke quietly.  “What are you about,
Rainha
?”

“I’ll not tolerate such tone from you,
Sutton!”  The Dowager pursed her lips in disapproval.  “I am still
your elder and deserving of your respect.  Miranda!”

Miranda, her eyes wide and unsure,
watched the exchange between her brother and her grandmother in growing
alarm.  “Yes, Grandmother?” 

“Please escort me to my room.  I
fear I am near collapse from exhaustion.  You will send a maid to Miss
Dunforth immediately, then return to escort her to the ballroom once repair is
made to her gown. Understood?”  She turned to Sutton.  “Act the
gentleman for once. I insist you stay with Miss Dunforth until the maid
arrives, and Miranda returns.  Miss Dunforth’s safety is
your
responsibility.”

Sutton opened his mouth to interrupt.

“Silence!  I will not argue with you
this evening. Disrespectful scamp.”  The Dowager stomped her cane at
Miranda.  “Come take my arm.”  Miranda, still wearing a look of
confusion at her grandmother’s antics, steered the elderly woman to the door.

“Harry!”

“Yes, my Lady.” The young footman’s head
popped from around the door.

“Lord Reynolds will await the arrival of
a maid to repair Miss Dunforth’s gown.  The door should stay open, with
you just outside, to ensure no impropriety occurs.”

Alexandra drained her glass of
Madeira.  A feeling of euphoria washed over her.  She would be with
Sutton until the maid arrived!  The wine gave her a light, fluffy
feeling. 

“Grandmother, I really think –“
Miranda tried to interject.

“Be quiet, Miranda.  After you send
the maid, be a dear and let Archie know where he can find his
betrothed.”

Alexandra thought she still had at least
ten more minutes before she had to face the nightmare of her impending
marriage.  She poured herself more Madeira.

***

Sutton stood in stunned silence as his
grandmother made a most dramatic exit. She left him alone with Alexandra. 
The Dowager was no fool.  She’d plied Alexandra with wine, calming the
Badger until the anxious look her features bore had disappeared.  Then,
pretending to be affronted and outraged by Sutton’s actions, she’d stormed out
like an offended queen and instructed a footman to guard Miss Dunforth’s
virtue.  Ridiculous. The centerpiece, of course, was the Dowager’s
instruction to make sure Archie knew where to find his betrothed.  His
grandmother had ensured Alexandra’s ruination at the hands of Satan
Reynolds.  The scandal would be enormous.  However, Alexandra’s
betrothal would be broken.  The Badger would belong to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  Sutton
advanced on the Badger who steadfastly ignored him. He settled himself next to
her small form on the sofa.

Her gaze remained fixed on the wine
swirling in her glass. 

“Badger.”  He took her chin in his
hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. She exhaled at his touch and a light,
sweet smell filtered to him.  The scent, familiar, but out of place. Not
the aroma of the Madeira.  The smell reminded Sutton of his time in
Macao. 

Sutton peered into her eyes. 
Alexandra’s pupils, large and unfocused, gave her the appearance of a curious
owl.  Two glasses of wine had not caused such an effect.  Sutton’s
pulse quickened.  Opium wasn’t readily available in London, but laudanum
was prescribed for every woman with a mild complaint.  The
headaches.  She mentioned headaches.  He grimaced.  That bastard
not only threatened the Badger, but drugged her as well.  Sutton added
this to the ever-increasing list of reasons to kill Archie Runyon.

Alexandra bit her lip and a small sob
escaped her.  “I thank you for your assistance tonight, Lord Reynolds, but
I can see that I disgust you –“