Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (37 page)

Affronted by his casual assessment of
her, she replied crisply. “If you are quite finished with your…evaluation of
me, I would like to open the packet.  I assume it’s from Sutton.”

“Tart little thing, aren’t you?” 
The full lips gave her a slow smile. 

Alexandra stepped back from the look in
his eyes.  Viscount Lindley could be described as
bewitching
.

He laughed again under his breath as he
watched her move away from him.  “Oh, don’t fret.  You’re quite safe
from me.  I’m really quite harmless. I haven’t cast a spell in ages.”

Alexandra sucked in her breath.  How
did he know what she was thinking?

He nodded at the packet. “Open it. 
Don’t expect a personal letter, it’s simply full of legal documents. 
Things signed by solicitors.  Cam’s on one of my ships bound for
Macao.  He’s likely just now settling down around the tip of Africa.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow.  “You
opened my packet?”

Viscount Tremaine ignored her
outrage.  “If he wants to get a message to you he will.  My ships
stop all over the world, exchanging cargo and information.  I’m leaving on
one myself tonight.  Bermuda.”  His large hand scratched at the
whiskers covering his chin.

Viscount Lindley’s valet had been
remiss.  He needed a shave.  A silver signet ring glinted on his
hand, although the design did not look like any seal Alexandra had ever seen a
nobleman wear.  Scars covered his knuckles.

Alexandra cleared her throat.  Had
the circumstances been different, and Sutton at her side, she would ply this
man with questions. Miranda had given her the history of the Tremaine family
one night over dinner.    

He raised a brow. 

Perhaps it was true – the things
they said about his family, for the man seemed able to guess her secrets. 

“I must leave for Bermuda tonight, even
though it now appears that I should not.” He pointedly looked at her
stomach.  “The storm season is approaching. If I do not leave now, I may
not have another chance for at least half a year.  Things in Bermuda
require my immediate attention.”  Viscount Lindley looked torn.  “Cam
has taken measures for your protection, as have I.”

“If Lord Reynolds truly cared for the
safety of his family, he should not have gone off to Macao to converse with
monkeys and traipse all over the Asian peninsula.” 

“I have to agree with you.”  He
moved forward and took her hand, startling Alexandra.  His hand, large and
warm, dwarfed her smaller, chilled one. 

Biting her lip, she blinked back
tears.  How dire were her straits that the Devil of Dunbar showed her
pity?

“Alex, Cam will come back.  He
should just about now be realizing what an idiot he is.  Forgive me for
being…somewhat ill-mannered but,” Viscount Lindley sighed, “Cam loves
you.  Terribly.  It is not a state he has ever experienced before
which does not excuse his blatant stupidity at leaving.  I do not even
know what you argued over, but certainly it can be remedied.”

Alexandra pulled her hand away,
regretting the loss of warmth and the strange feeling of safety Viscount
Lindley gave her.  “We shall be fine, my lord.  I will be fine.”

“Stubborn.”  His tone showed
approval.  “As you wish, Lady Reynolds.  I’ve given instructions to
Hobson and Zander at Gray Covington.  You ladies should retire to
Blackburn Heath.  The family seat is three days journey from London and
damned impenetrable.  You will be safe there.  The country air would
do wonders for your…condition.”  The suggestion held more of a command
than a request.  “I have already recommended such to the Dowager.”

“I appreciate your concern, my
lord.  I will take your suggestion to heart.”

Viscount Lindley did not like having his
regard ignored, but he acquiesced.   “It’s been a pleasure, Lady
Reynolds.” He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door, thought better
of it and shut it.  His dark head swung back to her.  The odd eyes
stabbed her with intensity. “He will come back, Alex.   I
promise.”  As he walked out she heard him mutter, “If I have to shanghai
him myself this time.”

Viscount Lindley’s heavy tread echoed on
the parquet floors as he left her.  Her legs felt boneless, incapable of
holding her up.  Cautiously she untied the twine wrapped around the
leather packet.  Viscount Lindley did not lie.  No note addressed to
her personally was inside, only a sheaf of legal documents making Lady Reynolds
responsible for of Cambourne in the absence of Lord Sutton Reynolds.

Alexandra ran her fingers over her
stomach as tears trailed down her cheeks.  Her heart hurt, as if someone sliced
open her chest.  Heavy weights sagged her shoulders at the thought of the
responsibility thrust upon her.  Sadness and disbelief filled her. 
If he did come back, it would not be soon.

She put a hand to her mouth, crying
silently lest the servants hear her and intrude on her despair.  She must
be wise now.   She’d told no one about the child she carried, not
even the Dowager.  She could tell no one.  Announcing the impending
birth of the heir to Cambourne would put her and her child in grave
danger.  Jeanette, especially, must not find out.

Jeanette married Herbert Reynolds barely
two weeks after Sutton’s departure. Lady Reynolds
knew
Sutton would
leave.  The woman stalked Alexandra’s every move, visiting Cambourne House
often under the guise of seeing Miranda. Jeanette would perch, like a vulture,
on the edge of the settee and ask after Alexandra’s health, pointedly looking
at Alexandra’s stomach.  She would pretend concern and ask after Sutton.

Thoughts of Jeanette brought Alexandra
swiftly back to her conversation with Viscount Lindley.  She was not
brave, nor was she stupid.  A plan took shape. 

Alexandra walked over to the desk and
dropped the packet next to a lengthy letter with several invoices
attached.  The letter detailed various renovations Alexandra began last
month at Helmsby Abbey.  Renovations she would need to oversee
personally. 

The Cambourne coach would leave by the end
of the week for Blackburn Heath, but Alexandra would not be making the entire
trip. She was going home.

“Hit ‘im harder!  Bloody fucking
toff!”

The Marquess of Cambourne stood his
ground and swiped at the blood running from his lip.  The crowd, a motley
collection of sailors, thieves and other disreputable characters cheered on their
champion, a wharf rat who decided to pick a fight with Sutton.  His
opponent was much larger, bald and powerfully built.  He was also stupid
and slow, like an enraged bull.  Actually, Sutton thought that was the
man’s name.  Bull.

“Take his head off!” someone in the crowd
screamed.

“Yes,” Sutton mocked Bull, “take my head
off.” 

Bull swung at Sutton.

Sutton bent at the waist, leaning back
until he swore he felt his hair brush the cobbled stones of the alley.

The crowd roared in disapproval as Bull’s
fist hit nothing but air.

Sutton lurched back up.  His fist
connected solidly with Bull’s jaw.

The big man stumbled back, shaking his
head to clear it.

Sutton didn’t intend to fight for his
life in a filthy alley.  It was a hell of a way to spend an evening. When
the
Persephone
docked earlier today in Port Elizabeth, Sutton only meant
to find a dark tavern in which to nurse his guilt over leaving Alexandra. 
 He’d needed a distraction.

Well, I’ve certainly gotten it
.  Sutton watched as Bull cracked
his knuckles, readying himself to beat Sutton to a pulp.  Sweat poured
down Sutton’s face.  How had he gone from an evening of self-recrimination
and scotch to this? 
I just wanted a drink.

Sutton sat down at the seedy tavern just
as the sun set and ordered a bottle of the best scotch the establishment
provided.  He was no stranger to the world of pickpockets, thieves and
sailors that taverns such as the Mermaid’s Tail attracted.  There were
worse establishments in Macao with less friendly clientele.  Sutton sought
only the refuge of drink, a balm to make him forget his leaving Alexandra. He
blamed himself for being a world away when all he wanted was the Badger. 
Bull picked a fight, apparently not caring for the cut of Sutton’s coat. Or
perhaps the man simply nurtured a dislike of gentlemen.   Sutton
liked his coat.  He objected to Bull’s opinion.  Now the man
attempted to beat Sutton to death in an alley.

Sutton feinted to the left and
spun.  Not quickly enough.  His reactions were dulled by the
scotch.  Bull caught him on the side of his chin, knocking Sutton
sideways.  Bull grabbed at Sutton’s collar, meaning to pull Sutton up so
Bull could finish the beating.

Sutton shrugged off his
shirt.  

Bull roared angrily as he held up the
empty white shirt.

“By all that’s holy, look at the dragon!”
A filthy looking man with buckteeth and ginger hair pointed at Sutton’s back.
“He ain’t no toff.  Any man who can stand the sting of the needle is a
fighter.” 

Sutton saluted the small, ginger haired
man.  He had a supporter.

The ginger haired man began changing
bets. 

Sutton wondered how much his life was
worth in Port Elizabeth.  Several pounds, at least.

Bull ran, hitting Sutton square in the
stomach.

The stones of the alley lacerated
Sutton’s back as he slid across them.  His hands tried to grasp something,
anything he could use to defend himself, but found only garbage and something
squishy Sutton didn’t wish to contemplate.  Sutton’s hand closed over a
brick.  He closed his eyes into slits, pretending to be too stunned to
move.

Bull thundered towards Sutton. 

The crowd roared.  “Finish him off,
Bull!”

Bull grinned.  His upper teeth were
missing.  The big man loomed over Sutton.  Bull turned to the crowd.
“Always put yer bets on Bull!”  He reached towards Sutton’s head, meaning
to pull him up by his hair.

The brick hit Bull on the side of his
temple.  Bull looked shocked for an instant before his eyes rolled up into
his head and he went down, landing in a pile of refuse.

The crowd stood in silence, shocked at
the loss of their champion.  Then the yelling began.   A scuffle
broke out.  A man spit on the unconscious Bull.   The
ginger-haired man collected his winnings, winking at Sutton in the process.

Sutton backed away from the melee. 
He pushed aside an urchin who was making for Sutton’s discarded shirt, and took
the cloth from him.  The shirt was filthy and torn, but since he had lost
his jacket, the shirt was all he had left.  Blood trickled down his back,
stinging the wounds made by the sharp stones of the alley.  A good fight,
one with fists, cleared a man’s mind, he mused.  He needed someone to
punch him. 

Alex
.

He could imagine the Badger raining
punches and kicks upon him.  He deserved it.  He’d left her. 
Abandoned her.  All because of Jeanette.  His stepmother had a way of
twisting things around, of manipulating his emotions while poisoning those
around him.  His very existence was at odds with Jeanette.  She hated
him.  She’d tried to have him killed.    Once again, he’d
allowed her to drive him away from Cambourne and his family.  He was
ashamed at how easily she’d achieved it. 

“I’m a fool,” he said as he rounded the
corner towards the docks.  Ships lined up as far as the eye could
see.  Port Elizabeth was the last port of call for those rounding the tip
of Africa, headed to Asia. The
Persephone
would take on supplies and
additional crew before heading first to Madagascar, then on to
Macao.   The
Persephone
, however, was going to be leaving
without Sutton.  Lord Bishop would need to lead his own expedition.  The
idea of wandering through the jungle, cataloging exotic animals and fighting
off the natives didn’t hold the same appeal for Sutton as it once did.  
Nor did almost being beaten to death in an alley.  He wanted to go home.

Another of Nicholas’s ships docked just
this morning to take on supplies before heading to England.  Sutton
approached the captain, a man he’d met previously on the docks in London. 
A berth for Sutton was secured with little fanfare.

He planned to approach his prickly Badger
carefully.  First he would bribe her with trips to Thrumbadge’s. Make love
to her until she was so exhausted from pleasure she lacked the strength to deny
him forgiveness.  Lastly, he would hold her to his heart and tell her what
was in his soul.  That he loved her and prayed that she could love him in
return.  He would never leave England again unless she was at his side.
Sutton winced and touched his swollen lip.  He would tell the Badger he
loved her as he loved nothing else in his life.

As he approached the
Persephone,
a
stone rattled on the dock behind him.  The back of his neck tingled. 
Absorbed as he was on thoughts of Alex, he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings,
a mistake he hadn’t made in years.  Someone followed him. “Damn,” he said
softly.