Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (35 page)

“Brave little badger.”  He kissed
her softly and handed the box to her.  “Open.”

Alexandra tugged at the red velvet ribbon
atop the box and lifted the lid.

Sutton looked at her expectantly. 
Smug again. 

A beautiful gold locket sat on a bed of
red satin.  The locket was rectangular and formed so that it looked not so
much like a locket, but a tiny golden book.  Alexandra picked the locket
up by the fine, slim chain.

“It’s beautiful.  However did you
find such a thing?”   

“Look inside.” He pressed a kiss to her
ear.

Alexandra opened the tiny clasp and
gasped in delight.  The locket held two tiny miniatures.  The left
portrait was of a peacock painted in gorgeous blue.  The right portrait
was of a small, rodent like creature.  She had never seen one, but
Alexandra assumed this was a badger.  Happiness spurted through her as she
felt her eyes well with tears.  What an idiotic, romantic, ridiculous
thing for Sutton to do.  Love for him suffused her whole being as well as
the fear of losing him.

“Do you like it?”

“You are most creative.  However did
you manage to get a badger to sit for a portrait?”  She sniffed and tried
to sound tart through the emotion choking her throat.

Sutton pulled her around and kissed her
possessively and soundly.  He nibbled her ear before clasping the chain
around her neck.

The gold felt warm against her
skin.   Her heart sang.  She wondered how he found someone to
paint the tiny portraits, and what the artist thought of Sutton’s strange
request.

His fingers trailed along the chain, then
outlined the locket where it lay nestled between her breasts.

Maybe he did love her.  A
little. 

“Tell the Marchioness,” Sutton’s voice
thundered up the stairs, no doubt in some ridiculous attempt to hurry her
along, “that we are leaving.  With or without her.”

Alexandra gave her hair a final pat,
frowning as an unrepentant curl tried to sneak out of her careful
coiffure.  Sadie did wonders with her hair, controlling the tendrils in a
lovely, if somewhat severe style.  Alexandra gave her reflection a smile. 
Sutton would detest it.  

“You’d best hurry down, my lady.” 
Sadie deftly tucked another curl as Alexandra stood and smoothed her
gown.  The Marquess does not like you to keep him waiting.  You are
lucky that way.”  Sadie’s crush on Sutton had not abated.  She was in
good company.  Maids kept dropping things, spilling wine and tripping,
whenever Sutton even looked their way.  “Yes, I suppose the time has
come.  I rather feel like Daniel before the lion’s den.”

Sadie gave a ‘harumph’.  “You’ve
nothing to fear, my lady.  Not with Lord Reynolds and the Dowager beside
you.”

“I suppose,” Alexandra answered absently,
surveying Sadie’s handiwork in the mirror.  Her gown was the color of
sapphires, a deep blue which caught and held the light when she moved. 
Matching gloves, shoes and a small reticule studded with brilliants completed
her ensemble.  Sutton had paid the most sought after dressmaker on Bond
Street triple to finish the gown in time for tonight’s ball.  Even now, an
army of seamstresses worked around the clock on the rest of Alexandra’s
wardrobe.

“You look beautiful, my lady.”

Alexandra gave Sadie a small, shy
smile.  She
felt
beautiful.  The gown’s color deepened the
gray of her eyes and her dark hair contrasted dramatically against the sapphire
of the gown.  The bodice, cut fashionably low, skimmed the top of her
breasts.  A diamond necklace studded with sapphires hung around her
neck.  Diamonds and sapphires twinkled from her ears.  The gifts from
Sutton were lovely.  Reluctantly, Alexandra took off her birthday locket
for Sadie to clasp the heavier necklace about her throat.  The thought of
not wearing her locket made Alexandra uneasy.

She smoothed her skirts, giving herself
one more check in the large, oval mirror. 

Sadie opened the door with a flourish and
gave her mistress an audacious wink.  The Dowager had chosen Alexandra’s
maid wisely.  Once her initial shyness had dissipated, Sadie had proven to
be as forthright and opinionated as Alexandra herself.

Sutton waited impatiently at the bottom
of the stairs with the Dowager and Miranda.  Dressed in formal black, the
white of his shirt contrasted sharply with the tan of his skin.   The
dark hair fell loose, a bit defiantly, to his shoulders.  Earlier,
Alexandra had heard the Dowager extolling Sutton to tie back his hair with a
ribbon for the evening.  Sutton refused to do so. 

Alexandra’s breath caught as she looked
at him.  Sutton was simply the most handsome man she had ever seen. 
And he belonged to her. 

He turned as her heard her come down the
stairs, his eyes running over her form in appreciation.  “I thought to run
out to the garden to find you escaping your fate by climbing down the tree
outside our rooms, possibly to catch a passing hackney to take you back to Gray
Covington.”

Alexandra scrunched her nose,
appreciating Sutton’s attempt to get her to argue with him rather than worry
over the Rocheford ball. 

“That was my plan, but I could not get
the window open.  The latch is mounted too high.  Sadie refused to
bring me a stool.”

Miranda laughed.  The Dowager
snorted.

“Next time I will think to prop a ladder
against the house and loosen the latch for you.”  He took her hand.

She looked into his face, determined not
to show her anxiety.  It wasn’t the ball, exactly, that concerned
her.  Since their arrival in London, a feeling of doom hovered at the edges
of her mind.  The Dowager told Alexandra that Archie had not been seen in
well over a month.  He’d likely returned to the Continent with his tail
between his legs.  Jeanette was furious at her cousin’s desertion. 
Odious Oliver’s town home had been sold to pay his debts.  Her uncle, as
large as he was and hard to miss, disappeared from sight.  Miranda thought
him in debtor’s prison.  The only thing left for Alexandra to do was to
tell Sutton about Helmsby Abbey.  She planned to gently break the news to
him tomorrow over tea with the Dowager. 

“I’m sorry I kept you all waiting.” 
She held out her hand to Sutton.

“It was worth it.”  Sutton brought
her hand to his lips and brushed it lightly.  “You are beautiful,
Alex.  My beautiful Badger.”

The feeling of unease increased.
Alexandra put her hand on his arm and tried to tell herself she was being
silly.  All was well.

***

“Lord Reynolds, the Marquess of
Cambourne.   Lady Reynolds, the Marchioness of Cambourne.”  The
servant’s voice echoed in the ballroom.  The
ton
went silent. 
Dozens of eyes turned to the staircase as Alexandra and Sutton entered.

Alexandra clutched tightly to Sutton’s
arm.   She looked at the sea of faces.  Several women eyed her
with open hostility, others, jealousy.  Caroline Fellowes watched
Alexandra with particular menace.  The crowd for the most part regarded
her with curiosity, as if wondering why a man of Satan Reynolds’s ilk would
ruin
her
and create a scandal in doing so.  Several older matrons
huddled near the foot of the stairs opened their fans so they could whisper
behind them unobserved. 

Sutton moved forward.

Alexandra froze.  A light-headed
feeling came over her.     

“Buck up, Badger,” Sutton whispered out
of the side of his mouth. “Lift your chin.  Give them your most haughty
look.  You are a wealthy and powerful Marchioness, married to the infamous
Satan Reynolds.  You should enjoy your noriety.”

Alexandra considered this.  If
Sutton could withstand years of being gossiped about, she could tolerate this
evening.  She composed her face into a mask of utter boredom as the
Dowager taught her.  She barely glanced at Sutton.

“Well, my lord,” her tone curt and
perfect for the circumstances. “Shall we?”

Sutton chuckled under his breath, guiding
her down the stairs as the ballroom broke back into conversation.

                                                            ***

Donata reclined in a comfortable chair allowing
Lord Wasser to fetch her a glass of punch.  The man had to be at least
seventy, but he flirted shamelessly with her.  She appreciated his
efforts.  Her gaze ran across the ballroom to the dancing couples. 
Sutton swirled his tiny bride around the dance floor, practically lifting Alex
off of her feet as he turned her. 

Alexandra sparkled like a diamond. 
An errant curl flipped over her shoulder as she laughed up at Sutton.  The
sight made Donata unbearably happy.

They are right for each other.
  Her grandson’s gaze never left the
face of his wife, even though at least a dozen women swooned over him tonight,
especially that dreadful Caroline Fellowes.  He paid them all no
heed.   Sutton’s arms were tight around Alex, holding her to
him.  The
ton
considered it rude for a husband to dance so many
times with his wife, but Donata noted with satisfaction that Sutton seemed
loathe to let another man touch Alexandra.  When Alex did dance with
another man, Sutton stood grimly on the sidelines.
He is in love with her.
 
Donata felt a deep gratitude for whatever fates had led Alexandra to
Sutton. 

“Your punch, my lady.”  Lord Wasser
tried to make a polite bow, wincing in the process.  He put a hand to his
back, shooting Donata a look of apology.

Donata laughed.  “Come you old fool,
sit next to me.  We are far beyond all that polite nonsense.”

Lord Wasser sat and took a sip of his own
punch.  He touched her hand.

She pretended outrage, swatting him with
her fan.  Donata was vastly enjoying this evening.

White wheat hair, done up in a
complicated coiffure, bobbed through the crowd.  The hair, piled high atop
a swanlike neck, glittered with diamonds and rubies. 

Donata wondered where Jeanette had gotten
the jewels. The Cambourne diamonds now belonged to Alexandra. 

The regal profile turned and spotted
Donata.

A slow, malicious smile spread across
Jeanette’s perfect features as she made directly for the chairs where Donata
and Lord Wasser perched.

A short man, his formal attire ill
fitting and disheveled, followed in Jeanette’s wake.  He huffed and puffed
to keep up with her and not spill the two glasses of wine he carried. 
Cousin
Herbert Reynolds.
  Donata suddenly felt ill.  Her eyes searched
for Sutton.

“Lady Reynolds!”  Jeanette’s eyes, a
glacial blue, pinned Donata to her seat.  “What a delight to see
you.  Let’s catch up shall we?”

Donata tensed.  Jeanette seemed
happy. 
Much too happy.
 

Lord Wasser, sensing the coldness between
the two women, bade a hasty excuse to Donata and fled.

Now Donata realized why she’d told Lord
Wasser to stop calling on her fifty years ago.  He was a coward.

“The delight is all mine,” Donata said with
false politeness as she faced the evil that was her daughter-in-law.

*******

Jeanette made an effort to seem sincere
as she settled herself next to Donata.  Not for Donata, she could care
less what that old battle-axe thought of her, but for Herbert.  Herbert
wasn’t incredibly smart, but he was infused with the gift of perception that
some country folk seemed to possess.  It would not do for him to realize
Jeanette’s true intent. Dull, slow, and prodding, Herbert reminded Jeanette of
an ancient tortoise.  Herbert worshipped her and thrilled at the slightest
bit of attention.  He would make an excellent, manageable husband.  Jeanette
would be the Marchioness of Cambourne again.   Archie promised.

Donata spared a brief glance at Jeanette,
focusing her attention on Herbert. “How lovely to see you, Herbert.  You
so rarely come to London.  What brings you to town?”

Damn the old witch.  She would have
the women sent out to pasture just as soon as Jeanette attained her rightful
position. 

“I have been lured by a fair
flower.”  He stammered, looking with adoration at Jeanette.

Herbert’s voice irritated Jeanette. 
High and raspy, he always sounded like a whiney child.  Jeanette found it
annoying and resolved to tell him to limit his conversation once they were married. 
He could write her notes or something.

She smiled at Herbert, as if he said the
most brilliant witticism.  Her eyelashes fluttered, pretending to be taken
in by his flattery. “Oh Herbert, you shall spoil me with your sentiments.”

Donata coughed and sputtered.

“My lady, are you ill?”  Herbert
peered at Donata, his concern evident.

“I wonder that the punch hasn’t gone bad.
I shall be fine, I’m sure.”  Donata’s gaze flicked to Jeanette.

Jeanette gritted her teeth.  She
imagined the old lady screaming as she was forcibly removed from
Cambourne.  The thought gave Jeanette genuine happiness.