Tall Dark and Wicked: The Wickeds Book 5

by Ayers, Kathleen

  Lady Pendleton shook her daughter off and with a huff, strode in the direction of the breakfast room.

  Petra took a deep breath and started up the stairs. If Katherine meant to spar with her as well, she’d not give her the chance.

  “I was wrong.”

  The words stopped Petra but she didn’t turn.

  “You will appreciate fossils much more than I, I’m certain of it.”

  Petra gripped the bannister, the Blue John ice cold beneath her fingertips. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lady Whitfield,” she replied, but only silence met her. When she looked down, she saw Katherine was gone.

  Petra approached her room, considering Katherine’s odd comment. The door was ajar and the sound of Mother arguing with someone filtered into the hallway.

  “I insist you give that to me or I will have you dismissed.”

  Petra entered her rooms and shut the door, relived to see Tessie had her trunks packed. She was not relieved to see Mother charging at the poor maid, arm outstretched toward Tessie who was stubbornly shaking her head.

  “No, my lady. I’m so sorry, but I cannot.” Tessie lifted her chin, lower lip quivering in fear. “Whether you sack me or not, I gave my word. I am to hand this over to Lady Petra and only Lady Petra.” Tessie turned in her direction, nearly weeping with relief at Petra’s appearance. The maid had a small square of paper clutched in her hand.

  “I have every right to review my daughter’s correspondence. I am her mother.” A scowl hovered on Mother’s lips. “Your maid is disobedient.”

  “As is your daughter,” Petra returned. “I won’t have you bullying Tessie.”

  Mother’s chin wobbled and her eyes held the sheen of tears. “I shall never live this down. We will be shunned by everyone in society for your reckless behavior. I’m sure even begging Simon for forgiveness did you no good. Lady Pendleton will write to every acquaintance she has in London. You will never be received again. First your brother, and now you.” Mother flounced down on the bed dramatically.

  “I didn’t beg Simon for anything, Mother. I asked to be released from the betrothal contract he’s signed with Father, and for my dowry to be returned. Simon has agreed.”

  Her mother’s face blanched. “What else was he to do? Marry a strumpet?” She placed a hand to her head as if preparing to faint. “I had hopes he would be willing to overlook your transgression, but I suppose that was foolish on my part.”

  Petra winced. “I’m not a strumpet, Mother.”

  “Lady Pendleton has cut me to the quick. She sent a note to my room informing me we must leave immediately, without saying goodbye. As if we haven’t been her guests.” Mother’s voice raised an octave. “And Lady Cupps-Foster has already left in utter shame over the dishonor of her son and your loose morals. He even had his horrid valet try to convince me I was imagining your presence in his room. Morwick has ruined you beyond repair and left you to face the wolves alone.”

  Petra had been considering the exact same thing, how Brendan could abandon her to such a mess. But, she’d known the risks. “Simon has assured me that not a bit of my transgression,” she looked her mother in the eye, “will reach London. Not from his mother or Lady Whitfield.” While Simon had promised not a hint of scandal, Petra wasn’t sure about her own mother.

  “I would demand Lord Morwick do the honorable thing except I will not have another Dunbar relation in my family. Thank goodness Lord Dunning is still available. I’m certain he’ll be willing to overlook this incident. I’ll write to him the moment we arrive home. He’s not Simon, but he’ll make you an adequate husband.”

  Petra wanted to scream. “I’m not going to marry Dunning, Mother. Or anyone, unless I wish to.”

  Mother’s face puffed up like an overstuffed squirrel. “Your father and I will cut you off. I won’t receive you.”

  A bitter laugh came from her. “I thought you wished to punish me? I’ll live with Rowan and Arabella. Or perhaps Jemma.”

  “My lady,” Tessie said in a quiet voice.

  Petra had almost forgotten the maid was in the room. Mother and her anguish took all of Petra’s attention.

  “I beg your pardon.” Tessie dipped into a curtsy as she nimbly side-stepped Mother to make her way to Petra. “I don’t wish to interrupt your discussion with Lady Marsh.” She held up the square of paper.

  “Tessie!” Mother popped off the bed with a squeak. “I insist you give that to me immediately.” Her hand shot out in a futile grab for the note Tessie held.

  Petra blinked back the wetness gathering behind her eyes, trying to keep from collapsing into a fit of tears. The last twenty-four hours had seen her ravished and abandoned by the man she loved. She’d been called a harlot and a strumpet more than once. Threatened with a blackening of her reputation and now treated to a display of dramatics by her manipulative Mother. Petra wanted nothing more than to once more be beneath the oak tree within the circle of Brendan’s arms.

  ‘You will appreciate fossils much more than I’

  Petra took the note from Tessie’s hand, struggling to keep her hand from shaking. Hope bloomed inside her heart.

  “Lord Morwick said I was to hand this to you and only you, my lady.” She shot Lady Marsh a look of remorse. “I’m sorry, my lady. But he made me give my word.”

  Mother tried once again to snatch the note away.

  “Thank you, Tessie,” she said, taking the note. Perhaps it was only an apology. A goodbye note. How would she endure the journey back to London with Mother? “Tessie, will you finish the packing and find a footman to have my trunks taken down?”

  The maid bobbed and left.

  Petra’s name was scrawled across the top in a bold, masculine hand. Unfolding the paper, she read the words, then read them again, before refolding the note and putting it in the pocket of her dress.

  “Well,” Mother looked satisfied. Smug, even. “Let us get on the way to London. We can discuss Dunning on the way home.”

  Petra bit her lip to keep from shouting with joy. “We aren’t going to London, Mother,” she explained with great satisfaction. “At least, not immediately. We have a stop to make.”

  A tic appeared in Mother’s cheek. She must have understood Petra’s meaning. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

  “Mother, I don’t wish you to have a fit of apoplexy. I would be most distressed.” Petra’s fingers ran over the note in her pocket as happiness made her lightheaded.

  ‘Your choices are your own, Petra. I would have you decide your life, not I or Simon and especially not Lady Marsh. Should you choose not to return to London, I will wait for you. I won’t let go. Ever.’

  31

  Petra tapped her foot with impatience.

  “Mother, do hurry along.”

  The footmen had already loaded her trunks on the smaller of the two coaches, the one Agnes and Tessie had traveled to Brushbriar in. Mother would return to London in Father’s more comfortable coach. She’d opted not to stop at Somerton with her daughter.

  “Jenkins,” Mother commanded, shooting Petra a self-assured smile. “Please place my daughter in the Marsh coach.” Mother tugged at her gloves not looking at Petra. “Restrain her if necessary.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.” Was there no end to her mother’s need to control her life? “Jenkins, don’t you dare.”

  Jenkins, bless him, bowed deeply to Mother. “I beg your pardon, Lady Marsh, but I will not put my hands on the daughter of an earl. Lord Marsh would have my head.”

  “Jenkins. I insist.” Her mother stamped her foot, becoming agitated. “You must do it. You must.”

  Petra stepped forward. “Mother, stop. I’m not going back to London with you.” She hugged her mother’s plump form. “I love you, Mother. I do. But you will not dictate my life any longer.”

  “Petra.” Mother tried to take her hand. “My baby,” she sobbed, “please don’t do this. You must come back to London with me. Don’t go to him.” Her head shook. “He’s wrong for you.�
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  Petra gently pushed her mother into the Marsh coach. “I love him, Mother.”

  “How can you after what he did?” Her mother wept, refusing to shut the coach door.

  How could she not, after what she suspected Brendan had done for her? And she knew now the depth of his feeling for her.

  “Goodbye, Mother.” Petra pushed the coach door closed.

  Mother’s tear-stained face watched Petra from the window of the coach as Jenkins drove the Marsh coach away, back toward London where Petra’s father would have to endure Mother’s anguish and disappointment over their daughter.

  As the groom assisted her into the smaller coach with Tessie, who’d opted to stay with her, Petra felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. Freedom was a heady feeling.

  The light was fading as they drew closer to Somerton, and Petra found herself tapping a foot impatiently. Finally, the coach pulled up the long drive. She looked out at the pile of stone covered with unruly vines and knew she was where she belonged. Home.

  The coach had barely slowed before Petra jumped out. “Tessie,” she instructed her maid, “inform Lady Cupps-Foster we’ve arrived. I feel certain she has been expecting us.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Tessie reached out and took Petra’s hand. “Good luck, my lady.”

  Petra smiled, hitched up her skirts and began to run, stretching her legs as she followed the path leading through the Somerton gardens up into the tree line. There was really only one place he would be waiting for her.

  A hitch started in her side just as she approached the large oak dominating the small clearing. Mam Tor loomed in the distance. The pins holding her hair had loosened, and the honey-colored mass now hung down her back. As she approached the tree she saw a shadow moving up in the canopy above.

  Petra put her hands on her hips and leaned back to look upward. “Are you coming down?”

  “Where have you been?” He sounded annoyed and was probably frowning at her. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

  “My goodness. I’ve run all the way from Somerton. I’m out of breath and it took some time to pack and evade my mother.”

  “Good God, Lady Marsh isn’t here, is she?” A rustle of branches sounded and a shadow moved across the limbs. “I may change my mind about coming down if that’s the case.”

  “No. I’ve sent her on to London, where she belongs. You’re quite safe.” She hesitated a moment. “Brendan, were you afraid I wouldn’t come?”

  Dead silence, then he came into view, scuttling down the tree, his large form sure-footed and agile. He dropped to his feet in front of her, large and magnificent, the sapphire of his eyes shining in the rapidly dimming light.

  “Yes.” His voice was raspy and broken. “Terrified, actually. If you hadn’t come, I would have had to go to London to retrieve you. I would have resorted to kidnapping, probably. I’m not certain. I suppose I could have courted you properly and begged your father for your hand.” He laced his fingers with hers.

  “You would have retrieved me? You detest London.” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  “It’s true. But I would have gone to that horrible city and found you.”

  “Even after you went to such great lengths to ensure I would have a choice?” She took his hand, pressing a kiss to the middle of his palm. “Oh, Brendan.”

  Brendan refused to meet her eyes. “I would not have you hurt, nor made a pariah for loving me,” he said in a low raspy tone.

  Petra’s entire chest expanded with the most exquisite happiness. “You threatened Simon.”

  The broad shoulders shrugged as he turned to look down at her. “Threatened is a strong word. Let us say I came to an understanding with Lord Pendleton and his mother that you be released from your betrothal immediately. And in addition to his continued discretion, he will have to lease the mine from me. Lady Pendleton was a bit put out, and she hates you by the way, but I reminded Lydia I was asking for very little in comparison to what the rumors of murder would do to her and her darling son. I’m afraid she had me escorted out of Brushbriar by pistol. I only had time to leave you a note.” He looked contrite. “Simon is very lucky he possessed something I wanted. Something more precious to me than Blue John or revenge.”

  A tear ran down Petra’s cheek. “Me.”

  “Yes, you. I hope to make a decent climber of you and teach you to organize my samples properly. Things a wife should know how to do.”

  “Is that all?” God, she loved him. Every complicated, frustrating bit. “Are you sure, Brendan?” She knew how difficult this was for him.

  “I’m in love with you, in case you haven’t noticed. Of course I’m sure,” he said, frowning down at her.

  “I noticed. I love you too.”

  The sapphire eyes flashed indigo. “It’s bloody frightening.”

  “I’ll help you through it.” She squeezed his fingers.

  He brushed his lips against hers. “But I promised I would never let you go. And I meant it.”

  “I won’t let you go either.” Petra wrapped her arms around him. “Ever.”

  Epilogue

  The breeches he’d had made for Petra were his best idea in years, but incredibly distracting. She looked absolutely smashing in them. He could see the outline of her gorgeous legs as well as her other attributes. Brendan found it difficult to take his eyes from her backside.

  “How about this?” She held up a small white stone. “Anything?”

  She sounded so hopeful he decided to humor her. Petra rarely picked up anything of value. Her job as geologist’s assistant was more to keep her close to him than anything. “Maybe.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.” She tossed the rock to the side. “I’m not very good at this.”

  “You’re bloody terrible,” Brendan agreed. “Your talents lie in another direction.”

  His wife bent over to pick up a different stone, giving Brendan yet another delicious view of her backside. He took off his hat and fanned himself. The day was unseasonably warm with just a hint of the impending autumn. Soon, he and Petra would have to leave the relative safety of Somerton and venture to London for the upcoming holidays.

  “This must be something.” Petra held up another rock, smooth and brown with a thin line of green.

  “It is something,” Brendan assured her, remembering the pebble he’d found so long ago that reminded him of her eyes.

  She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, leaving a streak of dirt across her cheek in the process before she smiled back at him. “Finally.”

  Brendan’s fears had quieted in the last month, though the terror was still there, buried away. His love for Petra had only deepened since they had wed in the village church in Castleton. He’d offered to be married in London, but Petra had refused. He had sensed she wasn’t ready to see her parents. But if they were in London for the holidays, Petra would have to confront Lord and Lady Marsh then. He did not want to be the cause of her estrangement from her parents.

  “Brendan. You’re not even looking at it.” She held up the rock again, wiggling it before his eyes. “What if it’s something precious?”

  With one step he reached his beloved wife, wondering how he’d survived so long without her. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly to his heart.

  “Very precious indeed.”

  If you enjoyed Tall Dark and Wicked, I would greatly appreciate you leaving a review.

  Reviews keep me writing!

  And if you just started getting Wicked…begin with Alex and Sutton’s story in Wicked’s Scandal.

  Author’s Notes

  I’ve taken some liberties with the Peak District (as my readers in the U.K. will probably notice). Blue John, the source of the Pendleton wealth, is a semi-precious mineral and a form of fluorite discovered by the Romans. In Britain, it can be found in one of only two places; Blue John Cavern and Treak Cliff Cavern, both outside of Castleton in Derbyshire. Pendleton’s Blue John is purely fictional.

 
Blue John was in high demand during the 19th century. It was used for everything from vases to windows and can be found in some of the finest homes in Britain, including Buckingham Palace.

  About the Author

  Kathleen Ayers has been a hopeful romantic since the tender age of fourteen when she first purchased a copy of Sweet Savage Love at a garage sale while her mother was looking at antique animal planters. Since then she’s read hundreds of historical romances and fallen in love dozens of times. Kathleen lives in Houston with her husband, a college-aged son who pops in to have his laundry done and two very spoiled dogs.

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  Also by Kathleen Ayers

  Wicked’s Scandal

  Devil of a Duke

  My Wicked Earl

  Wickedly Yours