Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (25 page)

Sutton’s body tensed. 

Jeanette smoothed her gown and pretended
innocence. The nickname started as a tool to humiliate Sutton.  Archie thought
that cultivating a distasteful reputation for Sutton could prove wise.  It
was a dreadful miscalculation.  The nickname gave Sutton’s persona a dark
patina but did not destroy him.

Sutton lifted one black brow, the green
eyes, so like Robert’s, filled with dislike. “How you love calling me that,
Jeanette.  One would think you coined the nickname yourself.”

Jeanette smoothed her hair.  Her
beloved Archie spewed out a continuous stream of venom against Sutton while her
stepson had resided at Eton. Jeanette whispered about Sutton’s scandalous birth
in London.  Her plan, naïve in retrospect, was to use the scandal
surrounding Sutton’s birth as a means to threaten Robert when Jeanette bore a
son.   The entire plan worked to perfection, especially after Sutton
seduced the wife of the headmaster at Eton.  Sutton returned to London,
tail between his legs. It had been pure coincidence that Sutton witnessed her
and Archie ‘playing’.  Easy enough to convince her stepson that she was
pregnant at the time with Robert’s heir.  If Sutton told Robert what he’d
seen, the entire Reynolds family, including Miranda and the darling infant
Elizabeth, would suffer.  Robert would blame Sutton.

“Ah, what a delight to see the mind of
the black widow working through her next scheme.  And on her
birthday!  Well, it goes to show,” Sutton whispered low, “that wickedness
does not take a holiday.”

Jeanette grimaced.  Her plan worked
– for a time.  Sutton disappeared into the jungles of Macao. 
Unfortunately, he carved out an even more infamous and alluring reputation with
that nickname. It became her stepson’s calling card.  Now men feared and
respected Satan Reynolds.  Women threw themselves at him in a more
appalling manner than before.  The whole of it sometimes made her weep in
frustration.  “You are the authority on wickedness.  I’m afraid I
don’t have time for your silly accusations.  Guests are arriving, and I am
the belle of the ball.”

“So the bills I continue to receive from
your modiste, the florist, and a variety of tradesmen I can’t even name, tell
me.  I wonder how you shall afford such extravagance in the future.”

Jeanette ignored his blatant
threat.  Eventually, she would hire an assassin that could actually kill
her troublesome stepson.  Sutton’s survival skills, honed in his time away
from London, were greater than she’d originally suspected.  Thank goodness
Archie was back to assist her.  “Where is that half-wit sister of
yours?  I finally resorted to having her maid take her books from her so
she would get ready for this evening.  It’s bad enough Elizabeth is missing
my birthday celebration.”

“If I have my way, you will never see
Elizabeth again.”  Sutton smiled, conscious that the room filled with
guests watched their conversation.  His eyes, like green shards of glass,
sliced into her.

Jeanette’s face froze.  Her mind
whispered that the man before her was no longer the motherless child she had
once abused. Ignoring the trickle of alarm that ran down her spine, she lifted
her chin.

“It will be no great disservice to me if
I don’t see the little twit again, you can be sure.  Elizabeth is even
duller than Miranda – if that is to be believed.  Your father made
such a fuss over what was only a misunderstanding.” 

Sutton sucked in his breath. 

Her stepson could be
so
predictable.  He wished to strangle her.  She simply adored ripping
out his emotions and waving them in front of his face like a matador’s cape
with an angry bull. If Sutton had proof of Archie’s abuse of Elizabeth, her
cousin would be dead.  Nor could he possibly suspect she was behind the
attempts to have him killed. Besides, Sutton likely still worshipped her, as he
had when he was a small boy.  How could he not?

She pretended to smooth down his cravat.
“And I don’t think I shall ever forgive you for refusing Percy Dobson’s suit
for Miranda.  Your sister is a bluestocking and only passably
attractive.  She chatters incessantly.  What other man will offer for
her?”

Sutton relaxed.  He didn’t pull away
from her touch.  Instead, his mouth curved into a smile that did not reach
the green glass of his eyes.

Jeanette much preferred his anger. 
This simply would not do.  “She is a –“

“Shut up.” He said it quietly.  His
face shone with manufactured affection.

Jeanette frowned before she could stop
herself.  The guests would remark on how
loving
Sutton was. 
Intolerable!

“Mother, dear!  Frowning will give
you wrinkles.  And at your age you can ill afford them.”  His lips
still held an affectionate bent, but his words bit through her.  “You
ceded
all
responsibility for your daughters.  All.  You are
dependent on my charity.  You will learn to behave,
Mother
, or I
will have you banished to the Continent.  Never to return.”

Sutton lied.  The boy who longed for
her love was still in the man before her.  She knew it. She could still
manipulate him.  She smiled warmly. “Tsk, Sutton, you would never send me
away.  I am your mother, the only mother you have ever known.”  She
placed her hand on his sleeve.

“Then you had better find a more skilled
assassin.”

Jeanette blinked.  So he knew. 
Bastard
.  She changed tactics to something more proven. “Did I ever
tell you that I knew your mother?  The exalted Madeline?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched.  His
mouth became a grim line.

“Sweet, sweet Madeline.  We all know
how…
pious
she was.  Not her fault she became a rich man’s mistress. 
A vicar’s daughter spends all her time on her knees…praying. 
Right?”  She leaned into Sutton’s tall form, smelling the musky exotic
cinnamon scent that clung to him, wishing for a knife to plunge into his
chest. 

A guest behind her remarked on how loving
a mother and son they were.

His nostrils flared, but he said
nothing.  He merely raised a brow and walked away into the crowd. 

Jeanette turned, her lips twisted into a
half-smile, to greet Lady Worth.  Sutton wouldn’t be able to keep his
temper in check for long.  Archie had imparted the most
delicious
secret to Jeanette.

There she was!  His little pigeon!

Archie Runyon stood just inside the
entryway, watching in anticipation as   Alexandra and her uncle
entered his beloved Jeanette’s ballroom.  Lord Burke he dismissed with
distaste.  But Alexandra! Pale and fragile, as one of his cousin’s beloved
Moon Roses, she glided towards him.  Her dark curls gleamed like a bolt of
sable silk in the candlelight.  Her manner demure and unassuming. 
The dark gray silk of her gown clung tightly to her generous breasts while the
overskirt of silver floated around her hips.  The effect was of Alexandra
gliding through a cloud of mysterious mist.  Lovely.  His gaze ran to
the press of her breasts against the bodice of the gown.  Soon.

“Miss Dunforth, my dove, at last you have
arrived.”  He walked forward, clasping her hands in his own. 

He noted with distaste that her hands
were icy. Even through the beautiful handmade gloves he'd ordered for
her. 

Alexandra watched him with detachment.
The pupils of her gray eyes enlarged.  This would
never
do. 
How much laudanum had she been fed? He glared at Burke.

“Lord Burke.  It is only two hours
ride from London to Gray Covington.  I have been awaiting my fiancée.
Impatiently.”

Burke flushed at the censorious tone.
“Business, Runyon.  My apologies.”

Archie turned back to Alexandra. 
“My dove, do you approve of your room?  I requested that particular room
as it is down the hall from my own.  I hoped you would enjoy the view of
the gardens.  And it is in the family wing.  After all, tonight you
become my family!” 

Alexandra murmured a polite reply. 
Her hands slid from his and hung limply at her side.  Good Lord!  She
looked about to slump to the floor in a stupor.  Damn Burke!

“Come.” He tucked took her hand again,
tucking it into the crook of his arm.  Archie made a determined effort to
control his anger.  He had warned Burke about giving Alexandra too much
laudanum.  Apparently Burke had ignored Archie’s instructions.  He
would make sure the fat man paid later for his blatant disregard. “I must
introduce you and your uncle to my beloved cousin.”  He cast a look at
Burke.  “I’m sure she’ll be
delighted
to meet you.  Delighted”

Burke tried to hide his fear and
failed. 

Archie was sure that Burke would much
rather run all the way back to London than face Jeanette Reynolds.  The
man looked like a fattened pig, about to meet its fate with the butcher.

Lord Burke’s steps faltered.  He
nodded grimly to Archie. “Yes.  Of course.”

Archie gave Burke a satisfied smile and
turned towards his cousin, not waiting to see if Burke would follow. 
Burke would.  Archie dangled Burke’s chits above the man’s head until
Alexandra became Mrs. Runyon. 

Archie led Alexandra through the gathered
crowd, ignoring the stares of the curious, and the rudely raised eyebrows as
they passed. 
Cretins!
  Once his estrangement from his father
was ended, he and Jeanette would make every gossiping twit in this ballroom pay
for the manner in which he was regarded. He made mental notes of who pointed at
him from behind fans and whispered behind gloved hands. Once his father
welcomed Archie back, and the old codger would, once he saw Alexandra, Archie’s
social standing would be reinstated.  Archie beamed in appreciation as he
spied his cousin.

Jeanette’s glorious wheat-colored hair
sparkled in the candles.  Brilliants twinkled at her temples.  The
tiny crystals were also sewn into her midnight blue gown, the color of which
matched the hangings in the room to perfection.  A fairy princess, come to
life and walking among the lesser folk.  No, Archie thought, a human star,
a goddess sparkling amongst the dull women of the
ton
.  His heart
lurched.  He and Jeanette would have done well as man and wife.  But
Jeanette deserved far better than to be the wife of a third son.  He only
wished she had found a duke to marry.  Or a prince. Not Robert the Rotten.

“My dear, Marchioness.”  Heads
turned to watch him and Jeanette.

“Dearest?”  Jeanette swung around at
the sound of his voice, completely dismissing Countess Rutherford.  The
glacial gaze fixated on Alexandra for a brief moment, then a stunning smile
crossed her face, making her shine as if she were the sun.  Her light
floral scent floated to his nostrils as she moved to take his hands.

Archie disengaged Alexandra’s hand from
his arm to press a kiss against his cousin’s cheek.  He bowed and made a
sweeping gesture towards Alexandra.

“Lady Reynolds, may I present Miss
Alexandra Dunforth.”

Alexandra lowered her eyes. She dipped
into a perfect curtsy.

Archie was beside himself.
Perfect!   He so looked forward to breaking down each barrier
Alexandra possessed. 

“Greetings, Miss Dunforth.  It is so
lovely to see you again.”

Alexandra paled, the first sign of
emotion since she walked through the entry of Gray Covington.  Archie
smoothed down the ends of his mustache, enjoying her obvious discomfort. 
Silly pigeon.  He knew everything she said or did.  He knew she went
to tea with the Dowager and to the Royal Exhibition with Miranda.  He
cataloged her every move.

“Felicitations on your birthday, my
lady.” Alexandra’s voice was low and polite.  Respectful.  “It is a
great honor to attend this occasion.”

Jeanette raised an eyebrow while her gaze
ran over Alexandra in an attempt to find some insolence or incorrectness in
Alexandra’s tone.

Archie’s chest burst with pride. 
His dove was perfect! 

“A pretty speech, Miss Dunforth.” 
Jeanette turned to Archie, her face relaxing into affection.  "How
are you this evening, my beloved cousin?  I am so thrilled that you are
here with me on this important occasion.  I could not imagine celebrating
without you.”   She kissed him on both cheeks, making sure everyone
saw.  Everyone.

****

Sutton watched the scene before
him.  Archie and Jeanette fawning over each other made him slightly
ill.  The memory of that long ago day, of what he’d witnessed, had dimmed
with time, but it was clear enough.  His gaze ran to Alexandra.  She
looked pale and delicate in a diaphanous gray gown.  Demure. 
Quiet.  Sutton frowned.  Quite unlike his Badger.  Though she
wasn’t his at all, it seemed.  Sutton considered killing Archie
immediately. The man certainly deserved it.  Sutton clutched the stem of
his wineglass so tightly he thought it would break.  He could use the broken
stem to stab Archie.  His murderous daydreams were interrupted by a
scolding voice.

“Your gaze will drill holes through
her.”  The Dowager stomped her cane, as she leaned in next to him. 

“Jeanette?  I wouldn’t do that to
her guests.  Evil would spill out of her as if she were a sieve, crashing
down in a flood infecting her guests.”