Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (30 page)

Alexandra tried to pull away, but the
Dowager’s grip was surprisingly strong. “Sutton, why don’t you and Miranda
begin the arduous process of dismissing our guests?  Ensure the viper is
gone from our nest.  Miss Dunforth and I have things we need to discuss.”

Sutton’s gaze slid over Alexandra, his
eyes dark and unfathomable.  What was he thinking? 

He nodded to his grandmother.  “As
you wish,
Rainha
.”

“Alexandra,” Miranda gave her an
apologetic look, “I am sorry for the circumstances but not the outcome.” 
Miranda and Sutton walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind
them.

“My lady…”  Alexandra
stammered.  “The preceding events have left me much distressed.  If I
could just lie down for a moment, catch my breath.  Surely this
conversation can wait until later.  After I’ve had some tea.”

“And allow you time to flee the premises
with some ridiculous notion that you can find employment?”

Alexandra felt the guilty flush in her
cheeks.   

“I think not.  Besides, you have a
laudanum addiction, in case you have not noticed.  You will need to be
weaned.”  At Alexandra’s look of surprised indignation she said, “The tea,
Alexandra.  Have you not noticed the way it makes you feel?”

The Dowager hobbled over to the couch,
frowning as she saw the tiny blood splatters left by Odious Oliver. “I shall
have to have this couch recovered.  I doubt I can replace the
pattern.”  She swung her cane, pointing at Alexandra.  “Sit.  I
promise you will not be forced to marry, if that is what you truly wish. 
I feel it my duty, however, to apprise you of your current situation.”

Alexandra looked into the calculating
green eyes of the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne and sat.

Stubborn!  Alexandra’s penchant to
be mulish rivaled Donata’s own tendencies.  An admirable trait, except
when directed at Donata.  In addition, Alexandra possessed a formidable
backbone.  The girl did not cry or sob, as most women would, after finding
out they had been drugged with laudanum, sold to a depraved man for a gambling
debt and ruined publically by a notorious rake. 
Most
women would
collapse into a fit of hysterics.  Alexandra did not. 

“So you don’t wish to marry? 
Interesting.  I assume you realize that you have not only been ruined, but
publically
ruined.  Even now your name and tonight’s events are
rapidly becoming
the
scandal of the Season.  Everyone in London
will know what occurred at Gray Covington by tomorrow morning.  Not a door
will be open to you.  Women will cross the street to avoid making contact
with you.  Unless you marry Sutton you will be a pariah.  The only
employment you will find will be on your back.”

Alexandra sat back as if she’d been
slapped.

“Oh, my dear, I do apologize for my
candor.  My age and position give me license to speak my mind.  You
are not an unintelligent girl.  I refuse to treat you as such.”

“I will…return to Hampshire and possibly
–“

Donata gave a sharp laugh. 
Stubborn!  So very stubborn! 

“You accepted your fate in marrying
Archie willingly enough, but yet marriage to Sutton does not appeal to you? My
grandson is wealthy and titled.  I can name a handful of women who would
cheerfully trade places with you in an instant.”

“Then perhaps we should find one of
those,” Alexandra replied with a bit of her former spirit.  “I have other
concerns.  Pressing concerns.  Besides, Lord Reynolds did no more
than kiss me.”

Donata gave a wry smile.  “Oh, my
girl.  No one cares.  A kiss is akin to ruination, especially when it
is given by a man whose reputation with women is somewhat infamous.”

Alexandra looked away.  “He does not
wish to marry me.  I would not have him marry me out of duty or
honor.  I am not a noble cause he must champion. He wished to rescue me
from Mr. Runyon, and I am grateful, but he does not have to shackle himself to
me.”

Ah!  So, that was Alexandra’s
concern.  She stupidly believed Sutton didn’t want her.  She had no
idea Sutton had willingly participated in her ruination.  Just so. 
Donata would not tell her. 

Tears formed in Alexandra’s eyes, and
Donata’s heart went out to her.  But this was not the time to coddle the
girl.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  He is not
marrying you out of duty.  Even I, Donata Reynolds, Dowager Marchioness of
Cambourne, cannot make that scamp do anything he does not truly wish.  He
wants you.” 

 “I do not think he can forgive my
association and stupidity where Mr. Runyon is concerned.  I cannot even
forgive myself.”  Alexandra bit her lip and looked directly at the
Dowager. 

“He wants you. You want him.  I am
only surprised he didn’t finish the job before we entered the salon.” 

Alexandra turned a delightful shade of
pink. “My lady, I do not think this conversation is appropriate.  I am
distinctly uncomfortable and my head aches.  I would like to return to my
–“

“Oh bother Alexandra!  Do not
disappoint me and act like a dimwit!  I despise martyrdom.  Would you
rather be marrying Archie Runyon?”

 Alexandra shook her head. 
“No, my lady.”  She shivered. “No.”

Donata did not press the point.  She
knew now how Lord Burke and Archie had manipulated Alexandra.  If
Alexandra would not admit to wanting Sutton, Donata must tip the scales. 
She cared deeply for the girl.

“I see you will continue to deny the
obvious.  You are in love with my grandson.”

Alexandra looked away.  Her hands
twisted in her lap, bunching the fine lace of her overskirt.

“A moment, Alexandra.”  Donata stood
carefully, listening to the faint creak her bones made as she stood.  Old
age was a detestable circumstance.  She made her way to the door and
whispered to the footman who stood outside to bring Harry to her.  Donata
slowly made her way back to the sofa. 

The girl continued to focus on her
lap.  She said nothing but her breathing was shaky and uneven.

Harry arrived, bowing low to
Donata.  He handed her a folded document from his coat pocket.

He was such a dear boy!  “Thank you,
Harry.  I will have need of you early tomorrow.  Best you get some
rest.” 

Harry bowed low.  “Yes, my
lady.”  He quietly trod out of the room and shut the door.

Donata turned to Alexandra who still
refused to look directly at her.  “If your reputation or the state of your
heart is not enough inducement to marry Sutton, I shall have to play all my
cards.” Donata gave a deep sigh.  “Archie toyed with you. Had I
known…well, that doesn’t matter now.”

Alexandra looked up, a confused look on
her face. 

Donata held up the document. “Call it my
wedding gift, if you wish.  The papers are in your name only.  
I will have your promise to marry Sutton within the month.”  Donata handed
the document to Alexandra.

Tears ran down Alexandra’s face as she
agreed with a nod to Donata’s terms.  Her hands quivered as her fingertips
took hold of the deed to Helmsby Abbey.

“May I come in?”

Sutton glanced up, surprised to see
Alexandra and not the maid Zander assigned to clean the study.  For the
last week, Sutton had shushed the maid and her assortment of bees’ wax, dust
rags and other cleaning implements, out of his domain.  He wanted to be
alone.  Alexandra was the last person he expected to see.  He refused
to marry her without her consent, no matter the scandal. 

The Badger hid well within the walls of
Gray Covington.  Since the disastrous night of his stepmother’s birthday
ball, he’d seen little of her.  The Dowager, taking charge as few generals
could, oversaw Alexandra’s weaning from laudanum assisted by her handpicked
physician, whose discretion was assured by the power and wealth of the Reynolds
family. 

His stepmother’s return to London had
been achieved with little fanfare.  Jeanette said nothing as she left Gray
Covington, but her icy glance spoke volumes.  Her resistance to his
marriage to Alexandra was evident in the toss of her head as she climbed into
the Cambourne carriage.  Correspondence from London assured Sutton that
the scandal of Alexandra’s ruination had not died down.  The gossips
wondered why no marriage had taken place and why Alexandra continued to reside
at Gray Covington.

“Hello, Badger.”  He pushed back
from the stack of papers that littered the gnarled walnut desk, laying down the
letter he had been reading.  The letter, from Lord Bishop, relayed the
details of an expedition being mounted to explore a region of the Asian
peninsula near Macao.  Lord Bishop wished Sutton to lead the
expedition. 

“You cannot think of another way to
address me?  Must I always be a small and smelly creature?”

Sutton’s mouth quirked, wanting to smile
at the tart tone. 

“We must talk.”  She marched to the
desk, demanding his attention in her prickly way.

He forced his features into a polite mask
of curiosity, not willing to let her see how pleased he was to see
her.   He
was not
pleased to see that she continued to twist
her gorgeous mass of hair into a hideous bun that would make an elderly matron
jealous.  Not a curl so much as ventured from the tightly wound ball at
her neck.  Her gown, plain blue and bereft of adornment, would be much
more fitting for a governess, not a future Marchioness.  He preferred her
in dark, vibrant colors and made a mental note to order her a new
wardrobe.  A gray shawl hung about her shoulders, shielding the Badger’s
overabundance of bosom from his eager gaze.  He wondered if Alexandra
deliberately tried to make herself appear unattractive as a means to antagonize
him.  Perhaps he should tell her that the prim, dull appearance she adored
cultivating did not deter him, and in fact, made him want her more. 
Sutton grinned.

The Badger backed up, not caring for his
grin.  She cleared her throat and placed her hands on her stomach, as if
he irritated her so much she may become ill. 

He quirked a brow and waited for her to
speak. Had she come to tell him she would not marry him?  That she would
rather be a pariah?  Sutton should take her on the desk right now, several
times, until she became big with child.  Badgers cannot flee when they are
large and pregnant.  The idea appealed to him.

Alexandra backed up again and gave him an
uncertain look.  Then she lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his. 

 “Please sit, Miss Dunforth. 
You seem…
unsettled
.”

She glared at him.  Annoyance
flashed in her eyes.  “No, thank you.”

Good.  He much preferred her annoyed
than the awful wraith she had been the night of the ball. 

“I need to know. Why?”

“Why what?”  He knew what she
asked. 

She turned her head away. “Did you do it
only to save me from Runyon?  If so, then I refuse to hold you to this
absurd assumption that we must marry.” 

“Already your ruination at my hands is
the talk of London.” 

“I will not return to London.  I
hate London.”

“You cannot return to Helmsby
Abbey.  It’s been sold.”

Alexandra gave him an awkward look, but
said nothing.  Her hands nested together. She took a shaky breath and
looked directly at him. “I don’t wish to be married out of duty.”

“Then what
do
you wish to be
married for?” he asked softly.

The Badger bit her bottom lip.  Her
delicious plump bottom lip. 

He walked towards her. 

The Badger looked down at the floor, as
if suddenly enthralled by the swirling pattern of thistles that edged the rug.

His fingertips grazed her chin, forcing
it up.   Her skin felt like silk.  A tremor ran through her body
as he touched her.

“Oh,” she whispered.  “For
myself.”  She tried to back away.

“Then we have that in common.”  He
brushed his lips against hers. 

Her gray eyes, flickering like opals,
gave him a guarded look. “Tell me you did not do it just to save me.”

“I am not that honorable.  I would
not marry a woman I didn’t want,
especially
if I haven’t had the
pleasure of ruining her.”

Alexandra sucked in her breath.  Her
hands moved nervously at her sides.

“Put your arms around my waist,” he
commanded her.

“You do not need to be so…..so…”

“Domineering?  Arrogant? Full of
myself?”

She struggled not to smile.  “I was
going to say overbearing.”

Gently, he took her hands and placed them
on his waist.  His whole being radiated with some emotion he wasn’t
prepared to name at her touch.  He pulled her against his chest.

“I want you.”  He enunciated each
word into her hair.

Alexandra swayed against him.  Her
hands ran over his back.  She snuggled against him before pulling
away.  An odd look came over her face.