Wickedly Yours (The Wickeds Book 4)

by Kathleen Ayers

  Arabella shoved him back. “I’ve also been commanded to appear.”

  Her brother raised a brow. “Commanded? You? How interesting. I’ve never known anyone to order you about; not even Grandfather dared. Is that why your cheeks are flushed? From being ordered about?”

  “I’m overwarm.” Nick was far too perceptive by half.

  “It’s quite chilly out here despite the sun shining.” The big body quivered as if he were freezing. “Not a trace of warmth. Perhaps you’re coming down with something. Are you trying to get out of attending the opera? Don’t you dare. If I must suffer, so must you.”

  “Send me to the Continent, I beg you, Nick. I’ll study the ancient buildings of Rome and learn to paint.”

  “You detest painting. Your poor teacher… what was his name?”

  “Mr. Sebastiani.”

  “Didn’t you dump your oils over his head in protest to drawing a bowl of fruit? Your lack of artistic talent is only trumped by the absence of any musical ability.”

  “The piano was never properly tuned. It wasn’t my fault.”

  Laughter boomed out of her brother, his large form shaking with merriment. “Oh yes, I remember well. My poor piano. It never recovered from your ill treatment and stayed out of tune for years.”

  Arabella sighed and grasped her brother’s hand. “Malden owes me nothing, especially not marriage. No one dishonored me. I can refuse.”

  Nick squeezed her fingers. “The world is not kind to a woman who is perceived to be ruined. I am grateful it is only your association with Malden that has come to light. Any mention of Corbett and his death and you would be banished to the Continent, mayhap for the rest of your life. Left to an apartment in some obscure Italian city until you grow old and fat. You don’t even like the Italians. And I won’t be able to visit.”

  Arabella looked at him in question. “You won’t?”

  “You know how I feel about warm sunshine and pleasant people.” A sigh escaped him as his gaze held hers. “Society is unforgiving to any woman in this predicament. Doubly so for you. How ecstatic the ton will be to devour another scandal from our family.”

  “You fear for Jem.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from her tone.

  “And you.” He looked away from her for a moment. “I’ve never told you that Jem’s reputation was ruined in Bermuda. Completely destroyed. Because of me. We were seen together,” he cocked his head, “although in my case, I did thoroughly ruin her.” He shoved against her shoulder again. “Don’t be shocked.”

  “Good Lord, that I could be shocked. Do you not remember who our parents were?”

  “Point taken, Bella.” A sorrowful look crossed his strong features and Arabella could hear the pain in his voice when he continued. “When I left Bermuda, Jem was shunned. Cast out. Treated no better than a whore by people who’d known her all her life. People who claimed to love her.” He looked Arabella in the eye. “And Jem was the richest heiress Bermuda had ever seen. The cream of island society. I would not have that for you, Bella.”

  “You never told me.” She couldn’t miss the regret in her brother’s eyes. And Nick was right. The ton would fall on her like a pack of wolves and enjoy tearing her to bits. She’d lately been reminded of how few friends she truly had. “Nick, I am deeply and truly sorry for what I did. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for I behaved quite terribly.”

  “I do forgive you, Bella. It’s the forgetting that is difficult.”

  They sat in silence for the longest time with nothing but the sound of the birds chirping in the trees. Finally, Nick said, “Malden is a very interesting man, wouldn’t you agree? The longer I know him the more intrigued I become.”

  “Indeed?” Arabella was becoming more intrigued as well.

  “I sense a mercenary beneath his polished and charming exterior. One would never guess given the cheerful rake he pretends to be. He is skilled at cards but allows himself to be fleeced. Until he doesn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t know for I’ve never played cards with Malden. I will let you know if I ever do.” She pushed a rock around with her toe. “I’m sure he only wished the use of your fleet, though why I’m not sure.” Arabella gave Nick a curious look. “You know why though, don’t you?”

  “I suspect there are several reasons. But you may perish the thought he only wishes an alliance. I’ve told him he will have the use of the ships and does not need to marry you to do so. Rest assured I did not coerce Malden. He wishes to do the right thing and his reasons are his own.”

  He threw an arm around her and pulled her close in a hug before standing. “I am a great believer in fate. I also believe there is something between you and Malden. Do not be so anxious to discard it.” Nick pulled her from the bench. “Come. I asked Cook to make you cherry tarts. Your favorite.”

  23

  A circus freak would receive less attention.

  Arabella lifted her chin in defiance, determined to ignore the dozens of eyes watching as she made her way to the box of the Earl of Marsh. Whispers and the snapping of fans followed her every move, though in all fairness she supposed some of the gossip was directed at her brother and sister-in-law.

  As she followed demurely behind her brother, she reminded herself that no one attending tonight knew anything about her association with Corbett. Not a soul knew she’d agreed to being abducted. A carefully placed word here and there assured all of London she and Rowan were merely overzealous lovers who’d wished the Duke of Dunbar’s approval. Let them murmur in confusion that no one had ever seen them together or knew of their mutual affection. Many doubted such a thing, preferring to think Rowan was forced to marry her. Or perhaps she’d tricked him into ruining her. No one thought Rowan could actually want to marry her. Especially Lord White, who by all accounts was quite angry Rowan would not be wedding his daughter.

  It had all the makings of a Greek tragedy.

  The Duke of Dunbar, resplendent in black, hovered protectively over his still slender duchess while Arabella followed a step behind. The crowd parted around them, keeping back a respectful distance, the ladies nearly toppling over in an effort to give a proper curtsey. The gentlemen bowed politely, some even greeted the duke in a friendly manner, but not many. Arabella felt a surge of pity for Nick, though after so many years he was probably used to such treatment.

  The Duke of Dunbar wore a tiny smile on his lips as if amused by the blatant show of fear and respect showered upon him. Jemma was not nearly so entertained. For every remotely insulting look the duke received was returned tenfold by his duchess. Jemma tilted her head arrogantly, allowing herself to dangle in a reckless manner from her husband’s arm, a chilling look of warning given to anyone who thought to disparage Nick.

  Arabella watched her sister-in-law with renewed respect. She had spent so much time convinced Jemma was merely a fortune hunter who wished to use Nick for her own ends, she’d never truly considered the depth of her sister-in-law’s feelings. Those feelings were on display this evening. Jemma loved Nick.

  I very nearly took her from him. Regret and relief mingled inside her that she had not succeeded. Because of Malden.

  She smoothed down the rustling silk of her skirts hoping Malden would understand the dress was a peace offering of sorts. Created of deep indigo, the gown’s color was so dark it appeared black. Tiny bits of brilliants had been sewn into the skirt, sparkling beneath the lamps until Arabella appeared to be lit by blue fire. The heart-shaped bodice clung to her curves, pushing up the swell of her breasts. Honestly, she felt a bit naked with so much of her skin exposed but in comparison to many of the gowns worn by the other ladies in attendance, hers would still be considered prim rather than daring. The thick strands of her hair had been piled atop her head in a series of luxurious waves, with several curls left to dangle down her back. A pair of sapphires hung from her ears, a Christmas gift from Grandfather. She’d never actually worn the earrings before tonight as her usual wardrobe didn’t require jewels. The ear
rings went perfectly with the gown, she thought, and had nothing whatsoever to do with pleasing Malden.

  Liar.

  Entering the box, her eyes searched the small area, but his tall form was nowhere to be seen, only Lord and Lady Marsh, along with Lady Petra, Malden’s sister seemed to be in attendance. Arabella’s stomach dropped.

  Malden was not here.

  Perhaps he’d finally come to his senses and decided to end their association. That would be rich. Her first instinct tonight had been to plead a headache and stay home safe in bed. Or wear a gown of pewter satin.

  Nick and Jemma greeted Lord and Lady Marsh with smiles and warm hugs. Petra even giggled at something Nick said. When the trio turned to Arabella they looked askance as if she might suddenly attack them.

  “Lady Arabella.” The Earl of Marsh took her hand politely, his eyes flat and suspicious upon her.

  “Lord Marsh. Lady Marsh.” Arabella tried to keep her features serene and pleasant. “Thank you for the invitation this evening.” Her manners were flawless. She could feel her brother’s approval.

  “Goodness, what a lovely gown, Lady Arabella. The color is magnificent.” Lady Marsh was equally polite although her dislike of Arabella bled into her voice. “We are so pleased you could join us.”

  Arabella nodded, lowering her eyes. She’d no wish for Lady Marsh to notice the twitching of her lips. The woman’s abhorrence for Arabella was blatantly obvious. Apparently, the affection Lord and Lady Marsh felt for Nick was not to be extended to his sister.

  A small frown crossed her brother’s lips. He too noticed Lady Marsh’s attitude.

  Jemma gave his arm a tight squeeze and a look passed between them.

  “Lady Arabella.” Petra, Malden’s sister, dipped into a perfect curtsey, her dark blonde hair glowing in the lamp light. Petra was heartbreakingly beautiful, with her lovely oval face and rosebud of a mouth. Her words were polite but her gaze no less hostile than her mother’s.

  “Lady Petra.” Arabella wished to ask after Malden, but fear kept her from doing so. What if he had begged off? The thought was not appealing. His family detested her, that much was clear and her typical method of dealing with such…censure, would be a well-placed scathing remark.

  I promised Nick I’d behave.

  Lady Petra was clearly appalled at the thought of Arabella sharing the Marsh box and unable to maintain her polite demeanor, took Jemma’s arm and moved away. The Marsh box was situated to the left of the stage on one of the balconies with a spectacular view of the stage. If Arabella had cared about the opera in the least, she would have been thrilled at the view.

  Petra led Jemma to the first row of seats closest to the railing. She giggled and clasped Jemma’s hands, obviously happy to see her cousin. Lady Marsh barely gave Arabella another glance before joining Jemma and Petra. Lord Marsh asked Nick something in a low tone and they moved to the far corner of the box.

  Lord Marsh was probably trying to convince Nick to send her back to Wales.

  Arabella clasped her hands behind her back and wandered over to the railing, as far away from the giggling Petra and her mother as she could get. She pretended great interest in the swirling mass of society that filled the theater below, only pushing back when she noticed several women openly watching her.

  I wish this bloody evening was over.

  “You look beautiful.” The curl dangling just beneath her ear batted against her neck as if teased by a gentle breeze. The briefest brush of fingertips moved against the small of her back.

  She arched automatically, her body softening as it sought to be caressed. A delicious tremor followed in the wake of his touch, lighting her skin with awareness of Malden’s presence.

  “You are late, my lord.” She announced waspishly.

  “Were you worried, Bella?” He moved to stand beside her, his eyes glinting with green and gold lights as they roamed in appreciation over her bodice.

  The temperature in the room increased as heat washed up her chest.

  “Of course not.” How did he become more attractive each time she saw him? Malden was breathtaking in his dark formal clothes. The sharp lines of his face were clean shaven above the snowy white of his cravat. He smelled of shaving soap with just a hint of tobacco. It was a thoroughly masculine scent, one Arabella found she liked even more than the aroma of cherry tarts baking.

  No wonder few women in the ton could resist him. Though based on rumors she’d heard, few women actually did resist. The thought was rather disheartening.

  “Bella, you’re clenching your teeth. You must be distraught I’m late.” He was smiling at her, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling in amusement.

  “Perish the thought.” She shivered as his hand fluttered against her waist, wishing her heart would stop racing. For God’s sake, he’d barely touched her.

  “I am sorry I’m late. There was some business I needed to take care of personally and it was unable to wait.” He brought her hand to his mouth, turning her wrist and kissing the spot where her pulse beat madly. “I’m sorry I worried you, Bella.”

  “I wasn’t worried in the least. But it was rude to keep me waiting and I—”

  “I will not change my mind.” His voice lowered to a murmur only she could hear. He was still holding her hand, far longer than polite. Even for a betrothed couple.

  Arabella looked down at her gloved hand clutched in his, then back to his face. “Release me.”

  “Never.” His thumb massaged the base of her palm. But he winked at her and let her hand go, only to take hold of her arm and lead her to the row of seats behind Lady Marsh.

  The small, polite touch of his hand on her elbow created a low throb across Arabella’s mid-section and seeped down her limbs. It annoyed her, the way her body reacted to the mere appearance of Malden, for she had no control over the delicious sensations.

  After seating her, he exchanged greetings with his mother, sister and Jemma. The women laughed at something he said, and his mother took his arm.

  Arabella sat quietly, not attempting to join the conversation. What could she say at any rate? Both women delighted in Malden’s presence. He tensed at his mother’s fawning, the tightening of his shoulders evidence of his discomfort especially since his mother seemed reluctant to relinquish her hold. He joked easily with Petra, teasing her about her newest beau. The two were obviously close.

  Arabella wondered if Petra thought about making her disappear as she had once done with Jemma.

  Probably.

  Nick passed her on his way to sit next to his wife and paused, leaning down with a smirk. “The wailing of cats awaits us. Pray do not run from the box when the soprano starts.”

  Arabella allowed a small smile to cross her face. “I shall wait until the tenor begins, Your Grace.” That small gesture by her brother meant the world to her and strengthened her resolve to get through the evening intact. Straightening her spine, she composed her face into polite snobbery, as she had done many times in her life. One did not sit through tedious luncheons for a multitude of charities without knowing how to reflect bored reserve.

  Lord Marsh stopped to greet his son, barely sparing Arabella a glance before moving to sit next to his countess.

  Malden settled into the chair next to her, the muscular length of his thigh mere inches from her skirts. It was difficult to maintain her stoic manner when he sat so close. Heat flowed from him to curl around her ankles and slide up her skirts. The feeling he produced both calmed and aroused her.

  A satisfied smile played upon his lips, but he did not turn to face her, though he leaned closer.

  Arabella nearly swatted him with her fan. He clearly suspected the effect he had on her.

  As the lights dimmed and the music began, her skirts rustled. A leg moved discreetly into the folds of her gown before stopping. A foot nestled securely next to hers.

  She didn’t move. Her heart beat madly in her chest telling herself if she did move, she might well risk tearing her gown. She regard
ed Malden discreetly from beneath her lashes. He appeared oblivious to the location of his foot against her slipper.

  He seemed transfixed on the soprano warbling onstage.

  Deliciously tortured by Malden’s presence, Arabella remained still, not willing to have the warmth disappear. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d been before Malden, possibly she’d been freezing for years. Sometimes she thought of herself as a small, starving plant finally receiving the sunlight needed to thrive. That she had become so dependent on him in so short a time alarmed her.

  Since his appearance in the garden yesterday, Arabella became determined to summon up some semblance of her former anger and bitterness, seeking the emotions as protection against her growing feelings for Malden. Her outrage remained absent. Instead she felt an unraveling panic over the lie about Corbett and the fear Malden would find out. She could opt out of this betrothal very quickly by confessing everything to her brother.

  But I would lose them both.

  “You’re frowning again. I’ll admit that Balderez is not the best tenor.” He nodded to the stout man tottering around the stage. “I fear he will do nothing but enhance your distaste for opera.” Fingers stroked slowly across the top of her hand, tracing the hollow between her thumb and forefinger.

  A delicious melting sensation slid down to pool low in her belly at his touch and it took Arabella a moment to respond. “My brother likens the opera to the wailing of cats. I’ve only ever attended before because Aunt Maisy declared that I must. I suppose opera is an acquired taste.”

  “I don’t particularly care for opera either, but I thought it best we make a public appearance together.” Malden nodded towards his mother. “Has Lady Marsh behaved herself thus far?”

  “Yes, my lord. Lord and Lady Marsh have been most welcoming.” It was only a small fib. Malden knew his family would be less than enthusiastic about their union and Arabella didn’t find it necessary to admit to his mother’s obvious dislike. Besides, with Malden beside her, she found the opinion of the Marsh family, at least this evening, irrelevant.