His Wicked Lady (8 page)

“I prefer the mystery. Some things are better
when you don’t question them.”

He shrugged. He supposed for some people that
worked, but he still liked solving the mystery. They would have to
agree to disagree on this point, just as they did on so many other
points.

“I like orses,” Leonard spoke up, breaking
the silence that had fallen between them.

“Orses?” Malcolm asked.

“He means horses,” she said.

“Oh,” Malcolm replied. “Yes, I like them,
too, but aren’t you too young to be riding them?”

“Not if he’s with me,” she told Malcolm. “I
might let him sit by himself when he turns five.”

“I suppose that would do,” Malcolm said. “My
family couldn’t afford one until I was seven. By then, I was
responsible enough to ride it.” Noting the worried frown on the
boy’s face, he added, “However, you seem like the kind of lad who
can handle the responsibility of riding a horse.”

The boy beamed, and Malcolm felt better.
There was no need in dashing the poor boy’s dreams. Malcolm
remembered how excited he was to ride a horse when he was
young.

“I’ll be guiding the horse to start,” the
boy’s mother said. “But he’s a quick learner, and I expect it won’t
be long before he’ll be ready to ride without help.”

“I get Ruby,” Leonard told Malcolm.

“Ruby?” Malcolm asked.

“The mare at our stable,” she explained.
“She’s being trained so when he’s old enough to ride her, she’ll be
ready. That will be his horse.”

“Stable? You have your own stable?”

She looked amused. “I have an entire estate.
Well, Leonard does. He’s the heir of an earl. When he comes of age,
it’ll go to him.”

“Oh, right.” He briefly remembered her saying
something about being a widow.

“Do we dress like beggars?”

He caught the teasing tone in her voice, so
he didn’t take offense to the question. “No, you and your son are
well dressed. I assumed you rented the place you live at, that’s
all. Your dresses aren’t as…as…garish as what I expect of
nobility.”

“Why, Mr. Jasper, I do believe you just paid
me a compliment.”

“It’s just an observation.” After a moment,
he asked, “Why are you here?”

“I told you. I wanted you to meet my son.
He’s the most important person in my life.”

“I don’t understand. What does he have to do
with me?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” She winked at him
and patted her son on the shoulder. “We won’t keep you. I know what
an important gentleman you are.”

Malcolm frowned. What did she mean by
that?

Before he could ask, she said, “I don’t want
to linger too long in case people talk and you risk your reputation
talking to a lady as beautiful as myself.”

She gestured to her body, and he suspected
she was alluding more to her curves than her dress. It was a hint
the child wouldn’t pick up on, but being a grown adult, he caught
her meaning.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” she continued.
“May your pressing engagements prove ever fruitful.”

Was she alluding to something else this time?
The comment seemed to come right out of nowhere, and yet, it was
oddly familiar. But he couldn’t place its origin. He knew he’d
recently come across similar terminology, though. Maybe Warren or
one of his friends had said something about a fruitful endeavor the
other day.

He watched as she and her son left. That had
to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had with another human
being. Just why was it so important she introduce him to her son?
He had nothing to do with the boy, nor would he. He shook his head.
He could only hope when he got married, she’d leave him alone.
Risking all these scandals was making him more and more
nervous.

After she was gone, he found his butler.
“Next time that lady shows up at the door, I want you to tell her
I’m not here.”

“Understood, Mr. Jasper,” the butler
said.

Relieved, Malcolm returned to his investment
plan.

***

It wasn’t until his wedding day that Malcolm
saw just who Lady Cantrell was. They’d already exchanged vows
sealing their fates together, when he lifted her veil and
discovered the truth.

He gasped and lowered her veil. Believing
it’d been a trick of the eyes, he blinked a couple times, shook his
head, and lifted it again. But it was still the same face that
greeted him. And what’s more, the blonde had the nerve to wink at
him.

“I bet you wish you’d taken the time to meet
me now,” she said, a satisfied grin on her face.

He gasped again and put the veil back down.
It couldn’t really be her. The lady from Lord Roderick’s ball. The
one who’d brought her son over to his townhouse. It just couldn’t
be.

He spun on his heel, went straight for his
sister, took her by the arm, and practically hauled her out of the
Duchess of Ashbourne’s drawing room.

“Malcolm, what do you think you’re doing?”
his sister asked as he took her down the hall.

He saw an open door and led her into the den.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his annoying brother-in-law
coming after them and decided to lock the door. There. That ought
to keep Logan out while he talked to Melissa.

Malcolm turned to his sister. “What were you
thinking?”

A knock came at the door. “Malcolm, I don’t
mean to be insulting, but you are aware you ran off with my wife
instead of your own, don’t you?” Logan asked.

“Of course, I know, you simpleton,” Malcolm
snapped. “Go away.”

“Melissa, do you want me to intervene?” Logan
asked.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, and she called
out, “I’m fine. Tell everyone we’ll return soon.”

“All right, but if you need me, say the
secret word we use whenever you get tired of talking to your
brother.”

Malcolm frowned as Logan walked away. “You
have a secret word you use when you’re tired of talking to me?” he
asked her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

She chuckled, and he couldn’t be sure, but it
sounded forced. “No. That would be silly.”

He narrowed his eyes, not at all
convinced.

“Anyway, you wished to discuss this matter
about your bride, correct?” she asked.

As much as he wanted to find out why she
needed a secret word to get out of talking to him, he had much more
pressing matters at hand. With a nod, he headed over to her. “Yes.
You lied to me.”

“I did no such thing. I told you we picked
Lady Cantrell for you to marry.”

“I didn’t realize
she
,” he gestured in the
direction of the drawing room, “was Lady Cantrell!”

The knob turned and the Duchess of Ashbourne
came into the room.

His jaw dropped. “Can I get no privacy around
here?” he asked.

“This is my home,” the duchess said. “I’ll go
wherever I want.” She shut the door and slipped the key back into
her pocket. “Now, what’s troubling you?” she asked Malcolm.

“My bride,” Malcolm said. “I don’t want the
one you selected.”

The duchess clasped her hands and
straightened her back. “To be fair, you didn’t specify who you
wanted. You didn’t even answer the questions I gave you. You only
said to consult Melissa, and that’s exactly what I did.”

He turned to his sister whose eyebrows rose
innocently.

“Did you know she was the lady who almost
created the scandal with me at Lord Roderick’s ball?” he asked
Melissa.

“Yes,” Melissa replied.

“Then why did you pick her?” he demanded.

“I like her, that’s why.” She crossed her
arms. “If you can’t take a more active interest in your love life,
you deserve what you get. Besides, I stand by my decision. Regan is
exactly the kind of lady you need.”

“She isn’t a proper one,” he said, bewildered
Melissa, the one person who knew him better than anyone else, would
pick someone like her for him to marry.

“That’s my point,” Melissa replied. “She’s
nothing like you. You need someone who can bring some excitement
into your life.”

“I already have excitement in my life.”

“I mean, something other than money.” When he
stared at her in disbelief, she added, “I want you to be
happy.”

“I’m already happy.”

“There’s more to being happy than having
money.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“No, I don’t,” Melissa said. “You spend all
your time figuring out how to make more of it.”

“That’s not true. I see important
people.”

“To talk about money,” she pointed out. “You
need something more than money.”

Unwittingly, he recalled his father’s
admonition to him to remember he wouldn’t live forever, and when he
did die, he couldn’t take his money with him. He had to leave it to
someone, and he’d rather pull out his eyes than give it to his
brother-in-law. As loathe as he was to admit it, he needed a child,
someone he could mold into his image and instruct on the proper way
to handle the money he’d be getting one day.

Granted, Lady Cantrell—Regan—had a child
already, automatically making him a father. But no doubt since the
child wasn’t his, she wouldn’t allow him to influence the lad. No.
He needed his own child in order to pass on his wisdom, not to
mention idealistic moral behavior.

“I don’t suppose I can get an annulment?” he
asked the duchess. He had to make one more effort to get out of
this marriage, even if it was a feeble one.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” the duchess
replied. “You agreed to marry Regan. You signed the contract
specifically stating you would follow through with it. It’s your
own fault you refused to answer my questions or see her before
today. You’ll just have to be a gentleman and treat her like the
lady she is.”

He almost snorted at the comment. If Regan
was anything, it definitely was not a lady. Ladies didn’t drag
gentlemen to the dance floor, come up to them on the sidewalk, or
barge into their townhouse uninvited. But the duchess was right. He
had failed to make sure the match was a suitable one, and because
of that, he’d have to deal with the consequences. He’d do so if he
lost money in a business deal, and he’d do so now.

Finally, with more conviction than he felt,
he said, “Fine. I’ll follow through with my part of the
arrangement.” Then, feeling like a gentleman about to go out for a
duel, he left the room to confront the enemy.

Chapter Seven

“Y
ou needn’t worry,” Logan said as he handed Regan a glass of
sherry. “Malcolm has a hard time liking people. It’s in his
nature.”

Regan took it then sat on the settee, putting
the veil next to her. “I’m not worried. I wore the veil on purpose
because I knew he’d run off as soon as he saw it was me he was
marrying.”

Eyebrows raised, Logan sat in the chair
across from her. “You did?”

Sensing his amusement, she grinned. “I did.
He’s got an unnecessarily strong fear of tarnishing his reputation.
Anyone so much as sneezes in the wrong direction near him has him
in a panic.”

He laughed and slapped his thigh. “I like
you! I can already tell we are going to get along splendidly.
Welcome to the family, my lady.”

She nodded her thanks and sipped her sherry.
“I don’t mind a challenge when I see it. I just want to make sure
the challenge is worth taking.”

“And you believe Malcolm’s worth all this
trouble?”

“He’s good to my son. I’d like for my son to
have a gentleman in his life who can be a father to him.”

“I’ll grant you that one. He is good with
children. It might be his sole redeeming quality.”

“I’m sure he has others,” she said. “It’s
just a matter of finding them.”

“Well, I hope you have more luck than I did.
I couldn’t find a single one.”

“Why do I have the feeling you enjoy saying
and doing things in hopes of annoying him?”

He seemed to consider her question before his
smile widened. “All right, I admit it. I do. The more annoyed he
gets, the better. But,” he pointed to her, “when I was betrothed to
his sister, he tried to get rid of me.”

“Did he?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Better than you can imagine.”

He lowered his voice. “He kidnapped me and
took me out of London. Then he forced me into a duel.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “He
didn’t!” she whispered.

“He did. I grazed his wrist with a bullet. I
had no intention of killing him. I only wanted to get him to
stop.”

“It must have worked. Both of you are still
here.”

“Yes, it worked.” With a shrug, he leaned
back in his chair. “He was trying to save his sister from having to
marry me. I can’t completely fault him. I might have done the same
if I were him.” A twinkle sparked in his eye. “Of course, I would
have won.”

She chuckled. “You’re a mischievous one,
aren’t you?”