Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (36 page)

“Is Lord Reynolds here, my lady?” 
Herbert asked Donata.  “I have something I would like to discuss with
him.”

Good boy, Jeanette thought.  She’d
told Herbert earlier that Sutton would
adore
hearing about the new
threshing technique Herbert employed on his estate.  Jeanette didn’t have
a clue as to what threshing actually entailed, she’d overheard the term from
one of the grooms, but Herbert became very excited.  He couldn’t wait to
discuss the topic with Sutton.

She patted her hair and counted the
wrinkles on Donata’s face.  Jeanette had something to discuss with Sutton
as well.  Something that could give Donata a fit of apoplexy, and thus
save Jeanette the trouble of exiling the old woman.  She let her glacial
gaze roam,
stopping when it landed on her stepson.  Sutton made his
way towards them with the little field mouse clutching his arm.  He didn’t
look at all pleased to see her.  Well she wasn’t fond of him either. 
She pursed her lips and assumed an expectant pose.

Herbert’s watery eyes watched her,
mesmerized by her actions.  The man adored her!

Sutton greeted Herbert politely.  He
nodded stiffly to Jeanette.

Bastard!
  Jeanette wished she could strangle
him with the diamonds that hung about her neck.

“Herbert, it is wonderful to see
you.  What brings you to London?”  Sutton turned, skewering her with
those damned green eyes.

Herbert opened his mouth to reply, but
Jeanette stayed him from launching into a recitation of his thresher by
brushing her breast against his arm.

Herbert shut up immediately.  He
reddened. 

Jeanette supposed she would have to
consummate
their relationship once they married.  Yearly, she thought. 

“Sutton!  You look well. 
Marriage agrees with you.”  Jeanette shot her hated stepson a brilliant
smile.

The field mouse, the cause of so much
trouble and Archie’s humiliation, dipped her head.

The girl acted as if she were born to the
title.  How dare she act the Marchioness!  The twit should be
kneeling
in Jeanette’s presence!  Alexandra was nothing more than an overdressed
farm animal.

 “My lady, you look well.” 
Composed and polite, the field mouse spoke.  Donata likely trained the
girl day and night to assume Jeanette’s position.  Honestly, what had her
cousin seen in this girl?  Her hair alone was enough to give Jeanette
fits.  She was sure there was straw in it.  Probably a nest of birds,
as well.

“I am blissful!  Simply
blissful.  Herbert is keeping me company.” Jeanette twittered. “Now where
have you two lovebirds been? London has missed you.”  She hoped Sutton and
the little mouse enjoyed their sojourn.  It was likely the only happiness
either one was ever going to have.

“We stayed at Gray Covington.”  A
muscle in Sutton’s jaw twitched.  He wished to dismiss her and return to
the ball.  Well, not yet.

“Really?  That’s odd.” 
Jeanette widened her eyes, so that Sutton wouldn’t see the triumphant gleam in
them.  “I expected that you would have at least taken the time to travel
to your estate, Alexandra, Helmsby Abbey.  I understand Hampshire is
exceedingly lovely this time of year,” Jeanette said breathlessly. 

Donata gripped her cane.  Her hands
worried the top of it.

The field mouse stepped back.  
She paled and looked ready to flee.

“Oh, dear!  Have I spoken out of
turn?  I thought every one knew.”  She cocked her head at Sutton.
“Donata purchased the estate some time ago, and gifted it to Alexandra shortly
after, well you know, the
incident
.  I thought it a most generous
wedding present.  I mean it’s not as if Alexandra needed any added
inducement to marry.” Jeanette snickered.

Sutton’s face turned glacial. He spun on
his heel and stalked towards the doors.  The field mouse bolted after
him. 

Donata’s breathing was rapid. 
Jeanette rather hoped the surprise would kill her.  “I guess he wasn’t
aware.  I seem to have truly put my foot in it this time.”  She took
Herbert’s arm.  “Come, Herbert.   I need more wine.”

******

Alexandra fairly sprinted to keep up with
Sutton’s longer strides as he wound his way through the ballroom. 

“Sutton, wait!” she cried. 

He never looked back.  He jumped
into their carriage, leaving the door open.

Panting, Alexandra reached the
door.  Her husband grabbed her and pulled her into the carriage.

“Sutton!  Stop for a moment and
listen to me.”

He turned and glared at her. Hurt stamped
every feature of his angelic face.  “Were you
ever
going to tell
me?  Is this why you agreed to the marriage?  Even after ruination,
you would rather have been a pariah, so my grandmother bribed you?  I
wondered why you never mentioned the estate again, why your beloved retainers
never appeared at Gray Covington even though you told me you sent for them.”

 A million painful needles stabbed
her.   This was far worse than anything she had imagined.  How
did Jeanette know? 

“Tell me!  No more lies Alexandra. 
Would you have married me if grandmother hadn’t sweetened the deal for you?”

Alexandra reached out her hand.  “Yes!”
She sputtered. “My love, let me explain –“

“She planned this all along
. 
I
can see the two of you cooking up your little scheme.  She left us in the
salon together.  She wanted an heir for Cambourne; you wanted that stupid
piece of dirt in Hampshire.  And, your merry band of retainers. 
Hell, you were willing to marry Archie to get it.  I suppose in comparison
I’m not such a bad bargain.”

Tears ran down Alexandra’s face. 
“Sutton, do you hear yourself?  Please calm down and we can talk about
this.  I didn’t need Helmsby Abbey to marry you.  Your past with
Jeanette has poisoned you and - ”

“You know I tried to buy it for you,” he
continued without listening to her.  “Meechum told me it had already been
sold to a private buyer whose name he couldn’t disclose.  It was my own
grandmother.”  Sutton’s face looked as if it were carved from a block of
marble.  He looked down his nose at her.  “I felt I had failed you by
not buying the estate.  You let me live with that guilt when all along…”
He looked out the window.

“Please let me explain, Sutton.” 
She reached for him again.

He flinched from her touch.  He
turned back to her.  “Tell me this is a misunderstanding.  Was the
price for your ruination Helmsby Abbey?  Tell me I am wrong.” 
Sutton’s voice broke.  “Please tell me.”

“Sutton,” she sobbed brokenly.

“Damn you,” Sutton whispered as the
carriage halted to a stop. “Damn you, Alexandra Dunforth.  Why did you
have to be like all the rest?”

Alexandra spent a sleepless night,
alternately crying or fuming with anger.  How could Sutton believe she’d
married him for Helmsby Abbey?  Did their time at Gray Covington mean
nothing to him?  He thought her a mercenary.   How could he not
trust her?  His relationship with his stepmother blinded him to everything
else.

Upon their arrival at Cambourne House,
Sutton opened the carriage door and asked a footman to escort the Marchioness
inside.  He was going out.  When Alexandra tried in vain to question
him, he shut the carriage door in her face.

The Dowager and Miranda burst through the
front door of Cambourne House barely thirty minutes after Alexandra’s
arrival.  Donata was visibly distraught, her face pale and haggard as she
angrily railed against her grandson.  Miranda demanded to know where her
idiot brother was.  How could he allow himself to be manipulated by
Jeanette?  He would come around, Miranda told her.  He would be home
for breakfast. 

But he had not come home.  No note
had been sent. 

Alexandra walked into the empty breakfast
room this morning and noticed the empty space where her husband usually
sat.  A servant brought her tea.

“Should I pour for Lord Reynolds?” the
servant asked. It was not an odd question; the staff noticed that the master
and mistress always began their day together.

“No, Hobbs.  His lordship went for
an early ride in the park.”

Alexandra nibbled at a piece of toast and
tried to quell the rising tide of panic in her breast.

Miranda wandered in a few moments later,
looked at her brother’s empty chair, and took a seat next to Alexandra. 
Mutely, she sipped her tea.  Under the table, she took Alexandra’s hand. 
“I shan’t leave you, Alex.”

A quarter hour ticked by.  Alexandra
pushed away from the table, prepared to go find Sutton herself, when there was
a knock at the breakfast room door.

“My lady.”  A footman entered and
bowed low offering her an envelope on a silver tray.  Her named was
sprawled across the front in Sutton’s bold hand.

“Do you want me to open it?” 
Miranda asked. 

Alexandra shook her head.

“He’s a fool, Alexandra, if he can’t see
that you love him.”  Miranda’s emerald eyes welled with tears.

 “No.”  Alexandra sliced open
the envelope, pulling out the cream colored paper it contained.  She read
it through twice before the contents sank in.  Tears ran down her face as
she laid the letter down.  “Bloody idiot,” she whispered.

“Alexandra?”  Worry etched Miranda’s
face.

“He’s gone,” Alexandra replied calmly,
wiping the tears from her face.   
How could he?
 “He’s
gone to Macao.”

            Alexandra
put down the ledger and stretched to get the crick out of her neck.  Her
back popped as she stretched, the tiny vertebrae snapping into place.  She
rubbed her eyes. The numbers on the ledger were beginning to blur.  She
worked day and night, determined to oversee the vast Cambourne empire on her
own.  She barely succeeded.  In the three months since Sutton’s
departure, or as she called it in her darkest moments, his idiotic abandonment
of her, the work had been a balm to her soul.  Work kept her from dwelling
on Sutton.  As she put down her quill her stomach growled.

“Yes, yes.  Time for tea.” 
Muttering she reached for the bell-pull when she overheard voices in the hall.

“Her ladyship is not receiving
today!  Please leave your card, my lord and I’ll –“

A large, powerfully built man burst into
her study.  The door slammed against the wall knocking a watercolor of
lilies askew.  The man, tall and muscular, dominated the room at his
entrance.  Dark, shaggy brown hair hung over his ears and brushed the top
of the elegant coat stretched across the broad shoulders.  Some would have
called him handsome, except for the bend of his nose, a testament to having it
broken more than once.   The eyes, of course, were what made
Alexandra sit back in her chair and clutch the desk tightly.  One eye
brown the other a brilliant, azure blue.  She’d read about the condition
once, it was genetic and hereditary, sometimes carried in families for
centuries.   The effect was startling, and slightly demonic. 
She knew who this man was.  A trickle of fear ran down her back.

 “Lady Reynolds?”  Her name
rumbled out of the giant’s chest. 

Alexandra stood, walking around the desk
with slow deliberation.  “Yes.  I am Alexandra Reynolds.”

The odd eyes flicked over her, settled on
her waistline, than ran back to her face.  “Bloody idiot.”

Alexandra’s hands moved over her
abdomen.  She swallowed.  “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I don’t mean you,” he rumbled. 
“You’re not the idiot.  You’re the Badger.”

She swallowed, somewhat unsettled that he
knew Sutton’s name for her.

“He doesn’t know does he?”

Alexandra gripped the front of the
desk.  Her waist was still small.  Her breasts were a bit fuller but
not overly so.  How did he this man know –“

He waved away her look of shock.  “I
am Nicholas Tremaine, Viscount Lindley.”  His voice, deep and raspy,
sounded as if he’d been drinking whiskey all afternoon. “You know who I am?”

“Besides being the Devil of Dunbar, you
are my husband’s friend.”

“Oh yes, I’m damned and all that.” 
He waved the nickname away, chuckling as he did so.  “It’s the eyes.” He
watched her for any sign of discomfort.

Alexandra stood her ground.  Her
senses told her this man would immediately dismiss her, should she show the
slightest fear of him. “Did you come for tea or to frighten me? My husband is
also possessed of a ridiculous nickname, my lord.”  

A great, dark chuckle bubbled out of
Viscount Lindley’s mouth.  He smiled at her, a wry grin that glinted of
predatory male.  Viscount Lindley possessed a dangerous allure that many
women no doubt found appealing.  

He held up a leather packet tied tightly
with twine. 

Alexandra’s heart lurched.  The
packet bore the Cambourne coat of arms.

“Cam was right to choose you.” His eyes
ran over her hair. “He did say you had the most amazing hair. Pity it’s not
down. Would have liked to see it.”  He shrugged.  “Ah, well.”