Wicked (13 page)

She shot a glare so virulent that he was taken aback. After hearing Miss Peabody’s description of her, he hadn’t presumed Miss Ralston to be strongwilled. The notion that she was tougher than he’d assumed made him more determined to have his way.

“I have to know something,” she said.

“What is it?”

“And tell me the truth.”

“As much of it as I’m able.”

“What is Mr. Talbot’s relationship to you?”

“There is no relationship,” he scoffed.

“So…you’ve resolved to have a son at all costs, to pass him off as your own, and you’ll have him sired by a virtual stranger. You expect me to believe that?”

“James is hardly a stranger at Summerfield, Miss Ralston. He grew up here, under my tutelage, and you have two eyes in your head, so you’ve seen the facts for yourself. There is no finer male specimen in the kingdom, and any child he fathered would be remarkable.” He nodded, considering the subject clarified and settled. “It’s what I want: a remarkable, extraordinary heir to be in charge after I’m dead.”

“With
me
as the mother,” she jeered.

“Yes. Should I apologize for thinking you’re remarkable too? Well, I won’t. I can’t have some trembling ninny for this role. I need a woman who can give me the son of whom I’ve always dreamed. Why are you so convinced that it can’t be you?”

“You’re mad,” she insisted.

“You’re not the first person who’s thought so.”

“Let me go away. Return my dowry and I’ll leave. I’ll take your secret to the grave. I promise. Just let me go.”

“No.”

“Please?”

He’d started the conversation with begging, and she’d ended it with begging.

He sighed with exasperation.

As far as he was concerned, her predicament was exactly the same except that she’d suffered a fit of pique over Stanley’s arrangement with James. She still had no money or kin, and—if her womb proved fertile—she could marry Stanley and be mistress of Summerfield. He merely had to persuade her that his plan was best.

“You’re distressed today,” he said.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“You shouldn’t make decisions when you’re angry.”

“I won’t feel any differently tomorrow.”

“Perhaps not. But how about in a week? You’d be surprised how the passage of time can alter one’s opinion.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“I want you to stay for a month. Meet more of the neighbors and become better acquainted with James. You should be absolutely certain you wish to leave.”

“I’m certain now.”

“A month, Miss Ralston,” he cajoled. “How can it hurt? It’s not as if you have an offer of shelter or employment. Remain here—as my honored guest. Grow comfortable. Learn to love my home as I have always loved it.”

“I repeat: You’re mad.”

“No, not mad. Not in this.” He softened his expression so he’d seem wise and kind—when he was neither. “I’m an old man, Miss Ralston. I’ve spent my entire life chasing this magnificent but elusive goal. I can’t give up without a fight. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me you’ll help an old man in his hour of need.”

For an eternity, she stared at him, then—when she broke away and peered down at her hands—he knew he’d won.

“Just one month,” she grumbled, “and when the thirty days are up and I ask to go, you won’t prevent me.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“No arguments. No wheedling discussions. No playing on my sympathies or trying to dissuade me. You’ll let me go.”

“Yes, I will,” he lied. “In the meantime, as an insurance policy for you, I’ll write to some of the schools where I am a patron. If you ultimately choose to depart, you’ll have a teaching position waiting for you.”

“Swear it,” she demanded.

“I swear,” he lied again.

“All right.” There was a lengthy, fraught silence, then she pushed herself to her feet. “May I be excused?”

“Yes, and I hope you’ll join me at supper.”

“I will.”

“In the morning, I have a seamstress coming to speak with you.”

“A seamstress? Why?”

“You’re very pretty, and you should have some pretty clothes.”

“You mustn’t trouble yourself on my behalf.”

He forced a smile. “If you’re to be my bride, Miss Ralston—and I’m an optimist who’s fully expecting it to happen—you must look the part.”

“If I’m leaving shortly, it will be a waste of money.”

“I don’t think so. I’m betting it will be the best investment I’ve ever made.”

“No, trust me. It will be a great waste.”

She spun and left.

The door shut behind her, and he smirked with satisfaction. She’d never escape him, and she was a fool to assume she could.

He rang for the butler to summon James. The boy had to get to work on wooing her. She hardly required new gowns to incite James’s attention, but they couldn’t hurt.

“Hello, Mr. Talbot.”

“Hello.”

It was very late, the whole house abed, and he was in her suite again, in the sitting room and seated in a chair by the fire. She’d just returned from a neighbor’s supper party. James could have gone, but hadn’t, and he’d found himself regretting the decision, because he’d missed the chance to socialize with her.

To his great relief, she hadn’t tried to sneak away again. Not that she could have. After James informed Stanley that he’d caught her out on the road and brought her back, Stanley had assigned footmen to furtively spy on her so she couldn’t make a second attempt.

He grinned. “Aren’t you surprised to see me?”

“No.”

“We’ve only been acquainted a few days. Have I become predictable already?”

“Very predictable.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you to leave.”

“A waste of breath.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She marched by him and proceeded through the bedchamber and into the dressing room. He followed, tagging after her as if he had every right.

Though he was pretending the previous evening hadn’t happened, he hadn’t succeeded in forgetting it. He kept thinking of how angry she’d been at Stanley, but mostly, he kept thinking about the quiet moment they’d shared on the dark road.

There was something so tenderly touching about how she’d snuggled herself to his chest and wept as if her heart was breaking. It had rattled him in ways he didn’t like and hadn’t intended. Apparently, he’d developed fond feelings for her, when he couldn’t have any feelings at all.

He had to get their relationship back on track, had to reestablish himself as the cad and libertine he’d always been. Yes, he’d spent some intriguing minutes comforting her, but he wasn’t a sympathetic person, and the encounter was over. He had to stop reflecting and move on.

She was standing at the mirror, taking down her hair and completely unconcerned that he was watching.

“I love your hair,” he told her. “It’s very beautiful.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Am I so miserly in my compliments that I’m repeating them?”

“Yes.”

He hated that she was ignoring him, and he was determined to get a rise out of her.

“Aren’t you incensed that I’m here? Aren’t you going to shoo me out?”

“As you mentioned, Mr. Talbot, it would be a waste of breath.”

“When we’re alone, you must call me James.”

“No.”

“Since I was bribed to bed you as quickly as I could manage it, it seems ridiculously pointless to be so formal.”

She whipped around, shooting him a glare so lethal that, if her eyes had been bullets, he’d have been dead on the floor.

“There won’t be any
bedding
or anything else between us, so if that’s why you’re lurking, you can leave.”

“Stanley tells me he’s convinced you to stay for a month—so I can charm you.”

“Mr. Oswald is an idiot.”

“Too true.” His grin widened. “I’m delighted to learn that you are such an excellent judge of character. It was years before I figured out his genuine nature. Of course, I was a boy when I arrived, so I can’t be castigated for failing to notice what he was like until much later on.”

She picked up her brush and started pulling it through her hair. She rubbed her temples, shifted her neck and shoulders.

“Do you have a headache?” he asked.

“Yes, my hair is very heavy. I always take it down the minute I can.”

“You can wear it down whenever you’re with me. I won’t be shocked. In fact, I prefer it down.”

“I’m sure you would. Isn’t it the accepted style for trollops? I’m guessing you’d be intimately familiar with such a thing.”

“Yes, my favorite doxies all wear it down.”

She snorted and muttered a remark he couldn’t hear, and he leaned against the doorframe, holding onto the wood to keep himself in place. He wanted to saunter over and brush her hair for her, but she was still furious. If he approached, she might whack him with the ivory handle.

“Your brush is very fine,” he pointed out.

“Too fine for a mere schoolteacher? Is that what you’re hinting?”

“No, just…commenting.”

“Lest you accuse me of theft, it was my mother’s. It’s one of the few items I have that belonged to her.”

“Who was your mother? Who was her family? Would I know them?”

She scowled over her shoulder. “No, you wouldn’t know them.”

“You’re an orphan, so I’m assuming she’s passed on.”

“You’re assuming correctly.”

“What happened to her?”

“She and my father perished from a plague in Egypt when I was four.”

“Really? You were living in Egypt? How very exotic.”

“Yes, I’m a veritable bubbling cauldron of unusual traits.”

“Why were they in Egypt?”

She sighed as if his questions were a burden, but he couldn’t stop asking them. He was much too fascinated by her, and despite what she believed, Stanley was insisting the seduction proceed.

James hadn’t decided how he felt about it. It was only proper to back out, yet she was still on the premises and would remain for thirty more days. James was aware of how Stanley could grind people down and coerce them into doing his bidding. Before it was finished, any ending might occur.

“My father was a missionary,” she said.

“Your mother too?”

“No. My mother married
down
and was disowned for it. She was trailing after my father because she loved him madly and foolishly. She perished for her folly.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It was a long time ago.”

She laid down the brush and came toward him. He was blocking the door, and at her sudden proximity, sparks ignited.

“I like it that you’re brazen enough to take your hair down in front of me.”

“Well, James, if I waited for you to depart so I could do it without you watching, I’d have a headache the rest of my life.”

“You called me James! We’re making progress.”

“You’re right for once. With how forward you’ve been, there’s no reason to pretend formality.”

She shoved him, and he obliged her, stepping back to let her by.

“I’d like to put on my nightgown and robe,” she said as she walked on, “but I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’d go away so I can get ready for bed.”

“You can change your clothes. Don’t mind me.”

“You are a rude, impertinent beast,” she growled.

“Yes. I was raised without parents. By the time I arrived at Summerfield, Edwina tried to temper my worst habits, but they were too ingrained.”

“Poor woman.”

“Yes, she was a very poor woman indeed.”

Rose continued on to the sitting room, and he followed. She was over by the table in the corner. The maids had delivered a tray with a decanter of wine and slices of bread and cheese. She poured herself a glass of wine and nibbled on the cheese.

“Drinking, Rose?”

“Yes, drinking, James.”

“I’m shocked.”

“I didn’t enjoy many pleasures at Miss Peabody’s school. She was a stickler for proprieties and her teachers had to set an example.”

“So no alcohol?”

“Actually, I think she was just miserly and didn’t wish to buy any for us. She kept wine in her room, but she never shared.” She gulped down the contents of her glass, then poured herself another. “I’ve agreed to tarry for a month, and I’ve decided to view my sojourn as an overdue holiday. I plan to indulge myself.”

“Good for you.”

“Mr. Oswald told you I’m staying.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything you two don’t discuss?”

“There’s plenty, but where you’re concerned, it appears I’m his only confidante.”

“Wonderful. When you’re gossiping about me, you may inform him that—while I’m in residence—I intend to pamper myself. I never had a chance to imbibe at Miss Peabody’s, so now, I shall. The situation seems to call for it.”

“Aren’t you worried you’ll become a lush?”

“Who cares? Not me, I assure you.”

The maids hadn’t realized she’d have a guest, so there was just the one glass. He took it from her, expecting to relish his own long swallow, but she let him have only a taste, then yanked it away.

“In many respects, I’m very much like Miss Peabody,” she said. “I hate to share. Next time, bring your own glass.”

“I’m delighted to hear there will be a
next
time.”

“You’re like a bad rash, James. I haven’t a clue how to be rid of you.”

“Why would you want to be rid of me? The more frequently we socialize, the more I promise you’ll grow to like me.”

“Yes, I’m certain I will,” she facetiously chided.

She poured more wine, then went to the window and stared out across the park. He came up behind her and stepped close, the front of his body touching hers all the way down. She could have moved away, could have jabbed him with her elbow and forced him back, but she didn’t.

They stood quietly, and he was curious as to what she was thinking. As for himself, he was overwhelmed by her smell. It was a fresh, flowery scent that rattled his masculine sensibilities.

Unable to resist, he reached out and stroked his hand down her hair, riffling his fingers through the soft strands. Again, she didn’t protest or push him away. She seemed to have lost the energy to fight. Or maybe he was so insignificant to her that she simply didn’t notice.