The Wicked One (14 page)

"All of us have been manipulated by Lucien into doing his will," Celsie continued.  "We have all been unwitting puppets in his diabolical plans to get each of his brothers — and now his sister — married off.  He truly is the Wicked One!  Look what he did to you, Gareth, and Juliet.  And Charles!  The way he schemed to get you and Amy together was totally inexcusable."

"But he wasn't as heavy-handed with us as he was the rest of you," Amy protested.  She was a gentle soul, and had taken a liking to Lucien when others had only barely forgiven him his transgressions into their lives.

"Regardless, he still schemed, and he still got what he wanted," Celsie continued.  "And he went completely over the top with how he manipulated Andrew and I into marriage with that aphrodisiac!  Well, it's time he got a taste of his own medicine."

Suddenly, every eye in the room was on Celsie.

She began to pace back and forth before the fire, her skirts whispering with her movements.  "I'm sure all of you have noticed that Eva is here to wreak some sort of revenge on Lucien.  Did any of you ever wonder just what he
really
did to ruin her life so?  Well, I have, and she is the other reason I've called you all together.  You see, the most opportune situation has, with Eva's arrival, fallen right into our laps. 
She
is how we're going to give Lucien his long-deserved comeuppance."

"I can't stand the woman," Charles said coldly.

Andrew tipped his chair back on its legs.  "Neither can I, but I want to hear this one out."

"Yes, do tell all, Celsie," urged Gareth, raising a brow.

Celsie looked at all of them in turn, and poor Nerissa, still sitting at the table and staring into space.

"He got her pregnant," she announced, folding her arms on a note of triumph.

"
What?
cried Gareth, Charles, and Andrew in unison.

"He got her pregnant," Celsie repeated.  "I have just spoken with her, and she confirmed it."

"Good God!"

"
Pregnant?
"

"Does he even know?"

"No, he does not.  Which is how
we're
going to turn the tables on him."  Celsie began to pace once more, her eyes gleaming.  "Eva came here looking for refuge.  She told me that he'd ruined her life, but I never did catch on to just what she
really
meant.  But think about it.  Andrew, you remember last night, when she ran out of the room feeling sick?  Well, why do you think she was feeling sick?  Why do you think she's so unnaturally pale?  At the ball this evening, I caught her holding on to the edge of the table and taking deep breaths.  She told me she felt a little faint from the heat and number of people in the room, but as Juliet and Amy will tell you, that, too, is a sign that she's in the family way."

"I can't believe this," Charles said, shaking his head.  "Lucien would never be so careless."

"Well, let me tell you something else," Celsie continued.  "When Eva came here, she told me she 'overpowered' Lucien and rendered him quite helpless.  I suppose that if she's capable of doing
that
, she's capable of having her way with him."

"Come now, Celsie," said Gareth, not unkindly.  "We know she's some sort of spy and a woman of extraordinary prowess, but I hardly think she's the sort to prey on men in
that
sort of way."

"Yes, especially as any fool could tell she was doing her best to get away from them all tonight," Juliet put in.

Amy was shaking her head.  "She may have been doing her best to get away from the men at the ball, but that doesn't mean she was doing her best to get away from
Lucien
."  She looked around the room at the others.  "No matter what you all think of Lucien, and of Eva, there's one thing that none of us here can deny:  They're a perfect match for each other."

"
Exactly!
" cried Celsie, clapping her hands once in triumph.

Charles was staring at them.  "You don't mean to try and force Lucien to marry the woman —"

"Oh, that's exactly what I'm planning," Celsie returned, eyes gleaming.  "Think about it.  For years, we've been wanting to give Lucien a taste of his own medicine.  Well, Eva herself is the absolute best comeuppance we can give him."

"I suppose he
did
ruin her life," Gareth said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

Andrew added, "He also got her thrown out of France, cost her the trust of her American compatriots, and robbed her of her dignity."

"Charles?"

"I'm listening."

"I think we're all in agreement about one thing," Celsie said.  "Lucien has it coming to him —"

"And Eva de la Mouriére will make a matchless duchess," finished Gareth.

Juliet was beaming.  "Oh, I
do
like this plan!  Go on, Celsie."

"Well, if we want to bring them together, we'll need to resort to a bit of scheming as diabolical as anything that Lucien has come up with regarding us.  Eva will never consent to marry Lucien on her own, of course.  And Lucien will not be so easily forced into matrimony.  This is what we must do."  She stopped before the fire, tapping her chin.  "Gareth, as a member of Parliament, you can convince your peers that Eva is dangerous and must be neutralized by the only person capable of controlling her:  Lucien."

Gareth inclined his head.  "My pleasure."

"Meanwhile, Nerissa and I will petition the king to the same effect, painting Eva as a misguided woman who deserves better than what she's received at Lucien's hands.  If we're successful, we'll be able to convince His Majesty to order Lucien to marry this poor woman he has ruined, not only so she can't make any further mischief with France — but to finally beget an heir for the dukedom of Blackheath."

She paused, looking at each face in turn.  "So, what do you all think?"

"I think it's a brilliant plan," said Andrew.

"Diabolically wonderful," added Juliet, nodding.

"Yes, it's about time Lucien gets a taste of his own medicine," said Gareth, warming to the idea.

"Charles?"

The major glanced at his sister.  "I detest the woman and am in no mood to forgive her, but if Lucien truly is responsible, even indirectly, for Perry's death, then the two damn well deserve each other."

Celsie smiled and waited for Andrew to pass around a bottle of port.  When everyone had filled their glass, she raised her own.  "A toast, then!" she said.  "To Lucien's comeuppance!"

"
To Lucien's comeuppance!
"

Chapter 12

Lucien returned from France after an unsuccessful quest to locate Perry, only to find that in his absence, his life had been totally taken over by others and was now fully out of his control.

He was livid.

"How
dare
anyone tell me what to do?" he seethed as Charles handed him the decree, signed by the king himself, insisting upon an immediate marriage between His Grace the Duke of Blackheath and Lady Eva de la Mouriére.

"Well, really, Luce, the king of England isn't just
anyone
," Andrew said cheerfully as Lucien, his face like a thundercloud, stared numbly down at the decree as though it were a warrant for his own execution.  "I do think you've got to listen to him."

"Yes, it would be very unwise to deny His Majesty's wishes," Gareth added, idly lounging on the library settee.

"Disastrous," Charles put in.

Getting up, Gareth splashed a generous shot of whiskey into a glass.  "It appears you don't have any choice but to marry the lady, especially since she's carrying the Blackheath heir."  He handed the glass to Andrew.

Andrew handed the glass to Charles.  "And we all know how seriously you take family responsibility.  Must carry on the line, you know."

"Absolutely," said Charles, carrying the glass of whiskey toward his stricken brother.  "And best of all, Luce, your bride-to-be is right here at Rosebriar."

"Which is most convenient," said Gareth.

"Yes, no chasing after her back in France," Andrew added.

"We even took the trouble of procuring you a special license so you can get married right away."

Lucien lowered the decree and stood staring into space.

Charles plucked it from his hands and replaced it with the glass of whiskey.  "She'll make a splendid duchess, Luce.  Absolutely magnificent."

Lucien managed to keep his face perfectly still, though inside, it was a different story indeed.  A towering rage such as he'd never known was rising like mercury on a thermometer suddenly plunged into boiling oil.  For a moment, his vision was obliterated by red haze.  For a moment, he feared his very head was going to explode.  His fists clenched at his sides — but no.  Breeding prevailed.  Tight-lipped, his eyes murderous and the untouched whiskey still in his hand, he turned his back on his brothers and walked a little distance away, unable to look at those three benignly innocent faces, all of which looked just a little too happy, a little too satisfied, a little too . . . triumphant.

Were they somehow behind this appalling mess?  Were they scheming to manipulate
his
life, as he had schemed to manipulate theirs?

They wouldn't.

They wouldn't dare.

But he knew that they had . . . and that he had it coming to him.

He heard Andrew say as much from somewhere behind him.  "Really, Luce, it's not so bad.  Just think of all the underhanded things you did to get us married, when that was the last thing any of
us
wanted.  But you knew best, didn't you?  Well, in this case
we
know best.  You need a duchess.  Blackheath needs an heir.  Hell, with Eva, you have both, all ready and waiting for you."

Lucien set the untouched glass down, keeping his back to his brothers as he used every ounce of control to hold his temper in check.   He would not let them know how very, very angry they had made him.  So angry, in fact, that he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.  So angry, that he dared not speak for fear of losing control of his words and the volume of his voice.  So angry that he was ready to do something totally crass and vulgar, such as pummel each of those smirking faces with his fist.

Better to leave before he could do just that.

Back stiffly erect, his face darker than an incoming storm, he left them without another word.

He walked blindly out of the house and outside, into the bracingly raw winter wind.  He welcomed the discomfort.  He needed to think.  To plan.  Revenge was the furthest thing from his mind; he wanted only a solution.  Alternatives.  Escape.  He strode to the stables and, summoning a groom, ordered Armageddon saddled.  The servant took one look at his thunderous face and paled, then hurried to do his bidding.

Lucien paced back and forth, his blood boiling as he waited for the stallion to be tacked up.  He heard the great beast's savage kicks ringing against its stall, and then the commotion as the jet-black Arabian, a gift from an Bedouin sheik during one of Lucien's many travels, was brought out of the stall, shaking his head, striking out with his lethal forelegs, and nearly yanking the two grooms who were trying to restrain him straight off their feet.

Moments later, Lucien was astride the foaming, fractious animal and cantering away from the manor.

Once out of sight of any watching eyes, he let the horse have his head.  Armageddon's body levelled out as he thundered across a pasture, his hooves cutting up the flinty turf, flushing a pheasant, and sending two rabbits diving for cover as he pounded past a thicket of brambles.  The damp winter wind was exhilarating, heavy with the scent of damp earth, but Lucien's fury was inescapable; even a headlong gallop across the cold winter heath could not dispel it.

Suddenly Armageddon's head went up, his ears flicked back, and Lucien knew he was no longer alone.

He glanced over his shoulder.  Another rider, mounted on a lathered chestnut, was coming up just behind him, approaching fast.

It was Eva.

For a moment, the sight of her — face flushed with wind, skirts flying, her slender, curvy form beautifully erect in the saddle — made desire swell his loins and the breath to catch in his lungs.  But only for a moment.  He was too angry with her to indulge himself by admiring her superior horsemanship, her flawless seat and balance, the picture she made — that glorious red hair swept up beneath a hat, eyes glowing with the exhilaration of the ride — atop her mount.  He shortened rein so she could catch up.

"You shouldn't be pounding across the heath in your condition," he said coldly as she drew up alongside him.

"You are aware of it, then."

"Of course I'm aware of it.  My gloating siblings couldn't wait to inform me."  He turned and fixed her with his blackest glare as Armageddon, furious at being held back, pranced forward.  "You'll be happy to know, madam, that for the sake of both our prides I neglected to tell them the real story."

"What, that I had my way with you?"

He directed his cold stare forward.  "Precisely."

"Well, Blackheath, be that as it may, if my memory serves me correctly you were as equally determined to have me as I was to have you.  You consented.  It was a game.  I thought you understood that, as did I.  Just because I initiated it on my terms is no reason to put all the blame for this unfortunate consequence on me."

"You were careless."

"
I
was careless?  May I remind you, Blackheath, it takes
two
to conceive a child."

"Do not condescend to lecture me, madam.  I am not in a fit temper at the moment."

"And don't
you
condescend to lecture me about fit tempers," she returned sourly.  "It's bad enough to find myself in the family way, but to know that you, of all people, are the father causes me no end of grief."

He turned and regarded her levelly for a moment, expertly controlling the prancing, blowing, stallion.  "And do we know, madam, that I am indeed the father?"

Her eyes narrowed beneath the brim of her plumed riding hat.  "I loathe men," she said frostily.  "You were the first since my wretched husband died and, I can assure you, will be the last."  She turned to face straight ahead, letting her horse keep pace with Lucien's.  "The only reason I allowed you into my bed at all was because I needed to ensure that I had the real aphrodisiac."