Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (8 page)

An awkward
silence engulfed the room.  Alexandra clasped and unclasped her
hands.  Lord Reynolds presence caused her no end of nervousness.  Did
he think she hear to denounce his behavior at Lady Dobson’s?   She
certainly wasn’t here to curry favor with his family or force him into
marriage. Marriage was the farthest thing from Alexandra’s mind, and in fact,
she was actively avoiding it.  

The dark
head nodded curtly, “A pleasure, Miss Dunforth.”

His long
legs, encased in leather riding breeches stretched out in front of him as he
leaned against the window.  The leather outlined his muscular thighs,
clung to them in fact, a bit indecently.   A blush stole up her
cheeks again.  She realized she was admiring him as one does a prize
stallion.  He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow.  Alexandra
lowered her eyes.  The man really
was
a conceited ass.

“Miss
Dunforth was just telling us about her estate in Hampshire, Helmsby
Abbey.  She’s quite the gentleman farmer, Sutton.  You might learn a
thing or two from Miss Dunforth”, the Dowager boasted.

Alexandra
sincerely doubted that Lord Reynolds gave a fig for managing an estate and
nearly said so to the room.  He likely had dozens of minions to do that
for him.  She wished she could march right over to him and tell him to
stop looking at her with his beautiful accusatory eyes.  Thankfully, at
least, he did not seem inclined to acknowledge their earlier meeting.

“Indeed? 
Are you familiar with animal husbandry as well, Miss Dunforth?” Lord Reynolds
drawled the words.  His gaze slid over her breasts, as if he were
contemplating a delicious roast at a banquet, and deciding which prime cut to
slice off.

He is a
horrid, arrogant man.
A
spurt of heat ran through her.  Alexandra did not miss the innuendo,
although thankfully it looked like Miranda had.  She wasn’t sure about the
Dowager. 

“I am, my
lord.”

“I thought
as much.” Lord Reynolds smirked.  “You have that look about you – as
a
gentleman
farmer does.”

Rude
insulting peacock.
  
She knew she was plain, but she certainly didn’t look like a
man
! 
His glance at her breasts should be enough to disprove that!  She wished
to leave before she marched over to him and gave him another set-down, though
he certainly deserved it.   The parlor grew warmer.

“What else
have you ladies been discussing today?  Gowns I suspect and other
fripperies?”

“Cam, don’t
goad me.”  Miranda looked as if she would throw a piece of the raisin cake
at him.  “We are not like your Lady Fellowes.  There’s a woman with
nothing but vacant space between her ears.  Her personality is that of a
potted plant.  A fern or some other dull shrub.”

“Miranda!” 
The Dowager flinched and sounded stern, but her eyes laughed.

Lord
Reynolds shook his finger at his sister.  “She is most
definitely
not
my
Lady Fellowes.” He didn’t appear chagrined with his sister in the
least.  Clearly, he and Miranda were very close.

The Dowager
put one wrinkled hand to her forehead as if in pain. “I am thankful she is
not.  There are enough plants in this house.”

****

Sutton shot
his grandmother an amused glance.  He knew of her dislike for Lady
Fellowes.  The Dowager made no secret of it.  He narrowed his eyes
and flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve as he surveyed the
sumptuous Miss Dunforth.  What in the world was she doing here?  The
lovely ivory skin of her face and neck flushed a delightful shade of red. 
The opal eyes flashed at him in disapproval along with an odd
vulnerability.  If his grandmother and sister hadn’t been present, he
would ravish Miss Dunforth on the settee. 

Miss
Dunforth popped up in the most unlikely places.  Hiding behind curtains in
libraries.  His grandmother’s parlor.  Oddly enough, he’d visited his
grandmother today to ask if she knew Miss Dunforth.  And low and behold
here was the Badger. He told himself again that he was merely bored and that
Miss Dunforth
intrigued him.    Perhaps that was it, he
thought with disdain as he looked at her severe coiffure. The chestnut curls
were sedately and unfortunately restrained.  Not even a tendril was
attempting to escape.  Pity.  The gown she wore was of good quality
but the colors muted and dull, almost as if she wished to fade into the shadows
of his grandmother’s parlor.  Her back rigid, as if a fireplace poker,
held her in place.   How incredibly ladylike and prim was Miss
Dunforth. He wanted to throw her skirts over her head and make her beg him to
take her.

She looked
away, unconsciously biting her luscious lower lip.  A rebellious, tiny
curl, almost as if it had heard his earlier thoughts, sprung from her coiffure.

Sutton shifted
slightly.  His cock stood at full attention.  The Badger’s appearance
today reminded him that leather breeches were unforgiving.  He treated
Miss Dunforth to a polite, interested smile.

“How long
have you been in London, Miss Dunforth?”

The Badger choked
as he addressed her directly.  The opal eyes flashed at him in
annoyance.  He had the odd sensation she wished he would ignore her
completely.  Impossible.

 “A
fortnight only, my lord.”

“Lady
Dobson’s was the first social event Miss Dunforth has attended.  Her uncle
engaged Lady Dobson as Miss Dunforth’s sponsor,” Miranda piped in helpfully,
plopping another piece of raisin cake into her mouth.

Sutton
watched Miss Dunforth’s reaction to his sister’s recitation.  Her hands
twisted in her lap and she studiously avoided his gaze.

So that was
her cause of distress in Lord Dobson’s library.  Her uncle launched her
into society and expected to find her a suitor.  The look on her lovely
face told Sutton she was none too happy about it.  A smart girl, one with
ambition would be screaming that the Marquess of Cambourne compromised her
honor at Lady Dobson’s. Her uncle should be here demanding marriage. 
Curious.

“Sutton?” 
His grandmother banged her cane on the floor in a demand for his attention

“Sorry,
woolgathering.  I was just wondering if Miss Dunforth’s uncle had the
opportunity to introduce her to anyone that suited her.”  An unwelcome
spurt of jealousy welled in him as he waited for her answer.

Miranda
regarded him with astonishment.  The question was much too personal for a
first meeting.  His grandmother gave a calculated look of surprise that he
would show such interest in their little guest.  The question bordered on
rudeness.  Sutton didn’t care. It was suddenly very important to him.

The Badger raised
her chin defiantly.  Annoyed. He could tell by the set of her jaw. Brave
little Badger.  She wanted to throw something at him.  He could
tell.  Then she winced painfully and dramatically.

“Forgive me,
my lady,” Miss Dunforth moaned in false pain to the Dowager. “I suddenly feel
quite unwell. My heads feels as if it is splitting. I beg your forgiveness but
I must take my leave.”  

“Indeed?” 
His grandmother tried to sound shocked.  Grandmother was not a stupid
woman.  She noted Sutton’s interest in Miss Dunforth.  ”Your headache
came on so suddenly.” 

He nearly
laughed out loud. Badgers tended to be crafty little creatures.

Miss
Dunforth tried to look ill.  A hand fluttered to her temple.  She
grimaced again as if in terrible pain.  She was a terrible liar and a
worse actress.

“Miss
Dunforth?  Alexandra?  Are you sure you must leave?”  Miranda
pouted. “I wanted to show you the library. We haven’t even talked about the
latest Lord Thurston novel.”

“I am so
very sorry, but I find that my head aches terribly.  My constitution is
delicate at times, or so I’m told.”

“Indeed.”
The Dowager gave a small snort of disbelief.  “And you a sturdy lass from
Hampshire. Who ran a farm.  Alone.”  His grandmother’s knowing gaze
flicked to him, then to Miss Dunforth.

“Miss
Dunforth, I do hope it’s not that sudden illness I’ve heard is making the
rounds of the
ton
.  Young ladies suddenly struck down as they drink
their tea.   You must get home immediately before you find yourself
unable to do so.”  Sutton composed his face into one of bland concern knowing
it would irritate the little Badger.  He was not disappointed.

Miss
Dunforth,
Alex,
looked as if she would argue with him, saw his
grandmother watching her, and changed her expression to one of illness. 
“Possibly, my lord.  There are all kinds of
ill humors
and
vile
things
to be found in London that I, growing up in Hampshire, am not
accustomed to.  I was likely
exposed
to something at Lady Dobson’s,
which didn’t agree with me.”

Most women
did not compare Sutton to an
ill humor
or
vile thing
. Her subtle
insult made him want to laugh out loud.  Or kiss her senseless.  He
strode over to the settee. “Please allow me to escort you out, Miss
Dunforth.” 

“That’s not
necessary, Lord Reynolds.” The Badger stood.  “I am quite capable of
finding the front door myself.”  She gave a false wobble, and pretended as
if she would faint at any moment.  “Lady Reynolds, Miranda, I bid you good
day.  My apologies again.” 

Sutton leaned
over Miss Dunforth,
Alex
.  “I insist.”  The look of horror on
her face was so comical he bit his lip to stifle the laughter bubbling up
inside of him.

She ignored
his arm, prickly thing that she was, and proceeded to the door determined to
see herself out.  She stopped only when his grandmother spoke.

“I would
take it much amiss, Miss Dunforth, if Sutton didn’t see you out.”

Alex’s
shoulders slumped as she paused for effect and whispered.  “I don’t wish
to trouble Lord Reynolds, my lady.”  The pathetic tone in her voice had an
edge to it. “Your footman is right down the hall.”

“It’s no
trouble at all.”  Little coward. He held his arm out again, daring her to
take it.

Alex’s
fingertips brushed the top of his arm lightly, as if he was a leper she didn’t
wish to touch but was forced to.  

“You cannot
be too careful, my dear Miss Dunforth.  A headache can make one so weak
and dizzy.  I would not have you fainting in the hallway.  Sutton
will put you in my carriage, least you collapse on the steps.”  The
Dowager commanded in a severe tone, but her eyes twinkled in delight.  “It
has been a
most
illuminating afternoon, Miss Dunforth.  I cannot
wait to further our acquaintance.  We shall call on you soon, won’t we
Miranda?”

Miranda
nodded and took another bite of the raisin cake.

Sutton led
the subdued Miss Dunforth out of his grandmother’s parlor.  She looked
like she was being escorted to the gallows instead of being seen to the waiting
carriage of a Marchioness.  He heard the laughter of the Dowager behind
him.  No doubt his grandmother would be full of questions. 

***

Alexandra
felt the heat of Lord Reynolds through her fingertips.  The sensations
seeped down her arm, through her chest and lodged between her legs.  Her
emotions vacillated between anger at his high-handed behavior, embarrassment at
his acknowledgement, and a nervous, filmy excitement that rushed through her in
waves. 

As always,
Alexandra tried to think logically.   She decided that his goading of
her was nothing more than dismay in finding her taking tea with his
grandmother.  Fine.  She could understand his confusion.  She
would explain the situation to him. She would likely run into him again, if she
were to further her acquaintance with the Dowager and Miranda so she would like
to smooth over any misconceptions he may be under.  She couldn’t fault him
in thinking that most women would try to use their previous meeting as
leverage.  Her irritation abated, though she still thought him a conceited
ass. She snuck a look at his beautiful profile. 

“My Lord,”
Alexandra turned, taking a deep breath.  His eyes were so green and
mesmerizing that it took her a moment to continue. “Please let me
explain.  I met your grandmother purely by chance at Lady Dobson’s, and
she invited me to tea.  My appearance is in no way related to our unfortunate
meeting last night.  My discretion is assured.”  Surely he didn’t
wish for anyone to know that she’d witnessed his assignation with Lady
Fellowes.  Or, their previous meeting. She certainly did not.

His eyes
widened a bit.  The gold flecks set in among the emerald glinted in the
light.  

“Let us
begin again,” Alexandra said proudly, impressed she could even think with the
exotic allure of Lord Reynolds’s surrounding her.  She managed to sound as
if his company caused her little distress.  A feat of incredible magnitude,
for the smell of him, like a warm cinnamon bun, played havoc with her
senses. 

The green
gaze settled on her bosom then wandered down between the valleys of her
breasts.

Why was he
being so….so….improper with her?  It was unwarranted.   He had
intimated that she was plain and mannish in front of his grandmother.  He
could not possibly be attracted to her.  Maybe he was trying to get her to
apologize for losing her temper.  She was beneath him socially and she
supposed it was incredibly incorrect.  He didn’t strike her as a stickler
for those types of things, but maybe he was.