Cheryl Holt (22 page)

“Explain yourselves.”

Lydia glared from Ellen to Alex, then back to Ellen again, but they stared at the rug, neither able to look at her.

They’d slinked in like a pair of whipped dogs and, with clothes scarcely on, lapels askew, buttons crooked, they resembled the malefactors they were. She rapped a paperweight on the desk.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

She was trying to appear livid, but in reality, she was delighted by her shocking discovery. Ever since Rebecca had moved up her wedding date, Lydia had been furious. Despite Rebecca’s protestations to the contrary, Lydia was positive that Rebecca’s scheme was a wicked ploy to ruin Lydia’s own wedding.

By demanding an immediate ceremony—one that would occur before Lydia’s—Rebecca was diverting attention to herself, rather than letting Lydia enjoy her own wedding preparations. It was typical of the snooty, cosseted girl to behave so selfishly, and Lydia was tickled to return the favor.

With her witnessing Alex’s heinous peccadillo, she had the perfect excuse to thwart the nuptials. After all, how could Lydia—in good conscience—let her baby sister marry such a villain? He was philandering with Rebecca’s friend and companion, while Rebecca slept just down the hall.

His gross misconduct gave Lydia the right to cancel the proceedings. Not only would they be terminated, but Lydia would guarantee that Rebecca was humiliated.

“It was all my doing,” Alex started.

Lydia scoffed. “A likely story.”

“It was!” he maintained.

“I’m sure Ellen was a saint through the entire affair.”

Ellen fidgeted, blushing with disgrace, as she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re
sorry
?” Lydia mocked. “You accept my money as wages, you reside under my roof and dine at my table, yet you have the gall to commit this . . . this treachery? Rebecca was kind to you, and you’ve repaid her with deceit!”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“You didn’t?” Lydia trembled with a convincing wrath. “I never liked you, Ellen. I never should have hired you, but Rebecca insisted. Do you know why I didn’t want to hire you? Have you any idea?”

“No.”

“Because you’re coarse and you’re common, and I anticipated that we’d have naught but trouble from you. You’ve exceeded even my low expectations.”

“Lydia, please,” Alex interjected, “there’s no call for insults.”

“Shut up, Alex.” She pretended to contemplate their fate when she already had it planned. If she’d scripted a
melodrama, she couldn’t have plotted a more satisfying revenge. “Your engagement to Rebecca is off.”

“What?” Surprisingly, Ellen was the one to complain. “Rebecca will be crushed. You can’t do such a terrible thing to her. I won’t let you.”

“It’s not up to you, Ellen, and you have an incredible amount of temerity to presume that your opinion holds any sway in this conversation. Be silent.”

Alex piped up. “Ellen’s correct, though, Lydia. Let’s not make hasty decisions that will hurt Rebecca.”

Lydia stifled a smile. The couple’s reluctance to harm Rebecca hardened her resolve. If they were so dead set against halting the betrothal, then Lydia was absolutely determined to press on.

“Alex, you were much too busy copulating to count heads,” Lydia chided, “but there were a half dozen of your employees watching you dishonor yourself.”

“Dammit!” he muttered.

“Do you think your liaison is still a secret? Are you supposing they haven’t told anyone? The sun is nearly risen. Even as we speak, the news is being disseminated from house to house, through the back doors. By noon, it will be all around the city. After this perfidy, can you furnish me with a single reason why I should let you have Rebecca?”

Alex yearned to throttle her, while Ellen looked ill, her hands shaking, her cheeks pale, and Lydia toyed with various scenarios of how Rebecca should be apprised.

How would her sister be most devastated? Should Lydia have a blunt chat with her? Should Ellen confess? Should Alex? Should they be forced to confront Rebecca together? Each prospect had its advantages.

“The engagement is off,” Lydia reiterated. “Alex will
obtain a Special License, and the two of you will marry later this morning.”

“Marry! You’re not serious.” The ultimatum jolted Ellen out of her stupor, and Lydia sneered at her naïveté.

“You can’t have assumed you could fornicate like a slattern, but there would be no price to pay.”

“But . . . but . . . marriage!”

“Have you some quarrel with the condition?”

Alex found the courage to butt in. “Lydia, you’re acting outrageously. Ellen is of age, and you are neither her mother nor her guardian. You haven’t the standing to order her to do anything.”

“Perhaps not,” Lydia concurred, “but if she doesn’t marry, and quickly, what will become of her?” She scrutinized Ellen, her loathing unveiled. “After this squalid tale slithers around, you won’t be able to acquire work as a ragpicker. Where will you go? What will you do? Will you live on the streets?”

The threat hit home. Ellen had no kin, no friends, no savings to tide her over, and she couldn’t conceal her fear over such a dreadful conclusion.

“Honestly, Lydia,” Alex scolded, “you’re scaring her, and you’re annoying me.”

“I don’t care if you’re
annoyed.”
She waved at him indicating his eminent self. “I would hear a marriage proposal from you. This very second!”

“Ellen doesn’t wish to marry me. I’m not even certain she
likes
me.”

“She relinquished her options when she spread her legs.”

“I won’t tolerate another crude word from you,” he warned. “If we can’t have a civil discussion, then this meeting is over.”

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, Alex Marshall,” she snapped. “You may be the patriarch of this family, and you may believe you can wallow in any gutter you choose, but I am part of this family, too, and I’m about to be your sister-in-law.”

“If you imagine your new status bestows the privilege of running my life for me, you’ve tipped off your rocker.”

“You despicable libertine!” she taunted. “Have you considered that you may have planted a babe? Are you content to have her trotting around town, shaming us with no ring on her finger and her belly swelled out to here?” She made a vulgar gesture over her stomach. “I will not have you besmirching our reputation with your foul deeds. You’ll do right by this woman, and you’ll do it now!”

Her mentioning of a babe riveted their attention. They glanced at each other; then Alex went to the window and gazed outside. Ellen observed him, then she turned to Lydia.

“I can’t marry him, Lydia,” she stated.

“Then you should have reflected on the ramifications before beginning.”

“Listen to me, would you?”

“About what?”

“There was an incident, years ago.”

“What sort of
incident
?”

“My brother, James, was convicted of stealing a valuable ring from Lord Barrington’s wife, and he was transported to the penal colonies.”

Lydia smirked. “Your brother is a felon?”

“Yes, so you see, I can’t join my name with the Marshall’. It wouldn’t be fitting.”

“His situation definitely explains your base bloodlines,
but it makes no difference whatsoever.” She glared at Alex. “What’s it to be, Cousin Alex?”

After a lengthy pause, he spun toward them. “I apologize, Ellen.”

“I’m an adult,” she asserted, “and I’m responsible for my actions. You did nothing to me.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, “and I have to agree with Lydia: I behaved contemptibly. Will you marry me?”

“You have no desire to marry me.”

“I’ll learn to like it.”

“It will kill Rebecca.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Ellen pondered, delaying; then she pleaded, “Don’t do this, Alex. We’ll both be miserable for the rest of our lives.”

“It won’t be as bad as all that,” he gently replied. “We’ll find common ground.”

Ellen stewed, but no answer was forthcoming, so Lydia stood and pronounced, “Ellen accepts your generous offer.”

“I do not!” Ellen insisted.

“It’s out of your hands,” Lydia said.

“No . . . no . . . someone is coming for me. I’m leaving.”

“Who? Who is coming?”

“Well . . .” On the spur of the moment, Ellen couldn’t invent anybody.

“When will this mysterious person arrive?”

“Ah . . . probably later today.”

“Probably?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “If you suppose that a white knight is about to ride up and rescue you, you’re mad. We’ll reconvene in a few hours, once Rebecca has risen, so that you can tell her what you’ve done.”

Ellen blanched. “You must spare me that humiliation.”

“Coward,” Lydia reproached. “You claim you’re a grown woman. At least have the decency to admit your sins.”

“I won’t do it,” she mutinously declared.

“Then I shall inform her myself, and I will be more than happy to give her my own version of events. Directly after, she and I will retire to the country. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to see either of you again for a very, very long time.”

Dawn was just breaking on the horizon, and she’d already accomplished so much. She grinned and strolled out.

Nicholas stumbled down the hall. He’d reveled all night, had drunk too much and gambled away a small fortune he didn’t have—yet!—and he was desperate to fall into bed.

The money . . . the money . . . the money . . .

The funds he deserved for sacrificing himself on Lydia’s altar were about to start flowing, and he couldn’t count how he would spend every pound. Life was so sweet!

He tiptoed by Lydia’s room. At all costs, he avoided her, so he didn’t want to risk waking her and having to chat. She kept imploring him to escort her to social functions, and there were only so many ways a fellow could politely decline.

He slipped through his door, stripped off his coat and cravat, and he was about to he down when a noise emanated from his dressing room. He whipped around and frowned. Someone was inside, and it seemed as if a hot
bath had been delivered. At such an ungodly hour, who the hell could it be?

He stomped over to peek in, and he gulped with dismay. Was he hallucinating?

“Lydia?”

“Hello, Nicky.”

He never permitted anyone to call him
Nicky
, but he was too disconcerted to chastise her. “What are you doing?”

“I thought you might like a bath.”

“A bath?”

“Yes. I’m going to wash your back for you.”

At the suggestion, he fought down a shudder. He could envision nothing more repugnant.

She wore a robe that was loosely cinched at the waist, no clothing on underneath, and she leaned down and swished the water. Sounding very sly, she asked, “Where’ve you been? Why were you out so late?”

She stared as if she was aware of his precise routine, which was impossible unless she was having him followed. He nearly guffawed at the prospect. She wouldn’t dare.

Yet suddenly he felt that he was tromping through a field filled with deep holes. One wrong remark and he’d topple in and never climb out.

His inebriation was waning, a hangover taking its place, and he wasn’t about to match wits with her. He wanted her gone.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he contended.

“Why not?”

“If someone saw you, there’d be a big ruckus.”

“Oh pish-posh. Who would complain about the two of us? We’ve known each other so long that we’re like
an old married couple. No one will mind if we have a little time to ourselves.”

She advanced toward him, and he wasn’t positive what she planned, but she appeared as if she meant to undress him.

“Lydia, what’s come over you?”

“That evening in the salon, you were so enamored of me, but since then, we’ve hardly spoken. I’m beginning to worry that your seduction was merely a sham so you could get your hands on my money.”

“No,” he scoffed. “I was swept away by passion. You heard me confessing to Alex.”

“Yes, I did, so I can’t figure out why you’ve been ignoring me.”

She was unbuttoning his shirt, and he could scarcely keep from flinching. Everything about her repulsed him, but he couldn’t let her suspect. There’d be plenty of opportunity after the wedding to notify her of his true opinions, but for the moment, with her riches just beyond his grasp, he had to play along.

“I decided,” she advised, “that we should spice up our relationship before the wedding.”

“I wouldn’t want to sully you,” he claimed.

“I’m having a conference with my solicitors,” she mentioned. “There’s a cash settlement due you—once I sign some papers.”

“Really?” He feigned great surprise. “I had no idea.”

“It’s a small amount—a paltry gift, if you will—but you should have it straightaway.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

His expression was guarded, but he had the eeriest feeling that she was threatening him, that if he didn’t
humor her, he wouldn’t receive the funds. Could she be that devious?

The notion was absurd, and he pushed it away. She was too stupid to be cunning.

She yanked at his shirt, baring his upper body. “Have you talked to Alex since you arrived home?”

“No, why?”

“We had a bit of excitement.”

“What?”

“You’ve met Rebecca’s companion, haven’t you?”

“Miss Drake?”

She was quiet and fetching in the unobtrusive manner he liked women to be, and if she’d had a penny to her name, he’d have ravaged her, instead of Lydia. He wished he’d chosen her anyway, despite her penury. Maybe he still would.

“Yes. I caught Alex in her bed.”

“You what?”

“They were very involved. It was extremely sordid.”

His brother? With Miss Drake? What was Alex thinking? Nicholas was eager to go to him, to ascertain the gory details for himself, but Lydia was fussing with his trousers.

“Lydia,” he scolded, “I’m not disrobing for you.”

“But the bath, Nicky. Remember?”

“You must stop.” His words had no effect, and she continued on.

“The wedding to Rebecca is off, of course.”

“Of course,” he murmured, but why would it be cancelled? Alex had fucked the hired help. So what? Who cared? What relevance had it to Rebecca?