A Wicked Reputation (Once Wicked)

by Liana Lefey

  Once she was seated and the doors closed, he came and stood before her, drawing the letter out of his pocket. The horror that filled her face on seeing it told him she knew exactly what it was.

  “Who wrote this?”

  She remained mute, her gaze sliding toward the closed door.

  He put himself between it and her. “You will tell me what I want to know, or I’ll report you for theft and have you transported to a penal colony.” He let that sink in for a moment. “Now, who wrote this? Who paid you to spy on me?”

  “Lord Grenville,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  Shock coursed through him and made the hair on his neck rise all at once. “You will tell me everything you know. If you do so, I may find it within my heart to not have your entire family sent to separate corners of the globe. If you don’t…”

  Words began to flow from her lips in a steady gabble, mixed with a lot of begging and pleas for mercy. In this manner, he learned Grenville had stationed men to watch his house just days after he’d had his little chat with Lady Grenville. When Anne had been hired, he’d seen an opportunity and had one of these men bring her to meet with him. She’d been paid handsomely to report back concerning his activities—especially those involving Diana.

  It’s all my fault. He’d dug into Diana’s past, and now Grenville was evidently afraid he’d be exposed. Lucas kicked himself mentally for not having the forethought to ask Lady Grenville to keep silent about his visit and what they’d discussed. He’d likely never know what had prompted her to confess to her husband, but in truth the motivation for her betrayal didn’t matter.

  All that mattered now was ending this. He wasn’t going to let the same man ruin Diana’s life twice.

  “You have a choice before you,” he told Anne. “I advise you to think this through very carefully. You can be reported for theft and transported to Australia on a prison ship…or you can tell me everything you’ve told Grenville about me and Lady Diana and take the next boat to the colonies freely with enough coin in hand to make a comfortable life there.”

  Two days later, Lucas stood on the docks at Liverpool as the packet ship Albion sailed away on the tide for Boston, with Anne safely ensconced in steerage with full amenities and a hundred pounds gold for her cooperation. He hadn’t trusted her to keep her word, and for peace of mind had insisted on escorting her himself rather than simply putting her on a coach with a couple of footmen. It had been a nerve-wracking, sleepless journey made in great haste, keeping the girl under guard until he could see her safely off.

  Now he must get back to London with all speed. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking a room and traveling tomorrow morning, but a sense of urgency overrode his desire for a night passed in comfort. He’d sleep as best he could in the coach.

  As he sat swaying in his seat and watching the hills and fields slide by, Lucas thought about what he must do. Everything would depend on Harrow’s cooperation. The letter he’d sent explaining Grenville’s part in Diana’s ruin and his current interference in their lives had been written with no way of knowing how far their plans had progressed. He only hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

  On arriving in London, Lucas didn’t bother stopping at his house to bathe and change in case Grenville was still having it watched. Instead, he went directly to Harrow.

  “I wondered when you would show up,” the other man said, greeting him warmly. “Your letter, while it brought me no joy, gave me hope.”

  “I think we may be able to turn this around, if you’re willing,” Lucas replied. “I believe Grenville knows nothing of you and Laurent. In fact, I’m certain of it. Nothing the girl said indicated she possessed any knowledge of the goings-on in Diana’s household. She only witnessed me sneaking across the gardens to see her in the night. Which means there is a chance, albeit slim, that we can make this work.”

  “Make what work, exactly?”

  He’d arrived at his decision almost the moment he’d put Anne on that ship. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing Diana, but he knew she wouldn’t settle for anything less than a wedding ring. “I’m going to ask Diana to marry me.”

  The shock on his friend’s face likely mirrored that which could be expected of all of Society. “You wish to marry her knowing everyone thinks—”

  “I don’t give a damn what everyone thinks,” Lucas said with vehemence. “Not of her or of me. Other men have made wives of courtesans. Most of the people we know expect you to marry her when your wife dies. Why you and not me?”

  “To begin, I’m in no danger of being left penniless,” answered Harrow. “Your father may not be able to disinherit you, but he can cut off all support while he lives.”

  “I don’t accept my father’s support now, and I’m far from penniless.” Lucas then shared information concerning his financial ventures and current means. “As for my family’s approval, I’ve lived without it for a long time. And who knows? In a few years, after things settle a bit, we might reconcile.”

  Harrow peered at him with an inscrutable gaze. “You’ll be ostracized. Those in your old circle who have yet to abandon you will turn their faces from you. Those in mine currently believe you a poacher and besmirch your name at every turn. You’ll have no social standing.”

  “I can live without social standing. I cannot live without her.”

  Their eyes met and held.

  “You love her,” murmured Harrow.

  “I do,” he replied with conviction. “And I need your help to win her back.” Lucas had never really been one for praying, but he sent one winging to heaven now. Please…

  “Indeed, I think it could work,” said Harrow with a dark chuckle. “But I have a few changes to make to this plan of yours.”

  “Go on,” Lucas prompted, wondering what he had in mind.

  “I think it might be time for me to make a strategic retreat from Society—with René, of course. I’ve been thinking of taking an extended trip abroad. Minerva—my wife—has expressed a desire to leave London altogether and remove our son from its toxic environs. I agree. She’s always been happier out in the country, and since the recent scandal broke, her pleasure in Town has been greatly diminished.”

  Hope flared in Lucas’s heart.

  “The public dispute we’d planned for tomorrow’s ball will take place,” continued Harrow, pulling at his chin with a pensive look. “But instead of casting her out in anger, I’ll play it differently. Instead, I’ll act as if her betrayal has broken me, which will justify my leaving England for a while. René and I will disappear for a few years. When we return, he will have a new name, and my lingering ‘heartbreak’ over Diana will provide cover enough to keep us safe.”

  “You would leave England for our sake?”

  “For her sake,” the other man clarified, shooting a hard glare at him. “Diana was—is—willing to give up everything for me. How can I not reciprocate in kind? She’s part of my heart, my family. If you can make her happy, then I shall consider you truly my friend—indeed, if you can give her the life she deserves, I’ll consider you as dear as any brother.”

  Lucas met his steady gaze and nodded solemnly. “Upon my honor, I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen.”

  “One more thing,” said his host. “I want her married before my ship leaves port. I won’t sail until I know she’s safe.”

  “Agreed.” They talked a few minutes more, and then Lucas was on his way to obtain a special license before returning home to make the necessary preparations.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Everyone was in attendance at the Season’s largest ball, which made Diana even more nervous about what she and Harrow were planning to do. She’d already spotted Grenville, as well as her treacherous uncle. When all was said and done, her humiliation would be complete in their eyes. She would endure it, knowing she’d have the last laugh as a free woman of independent means.

  Unfortunately, the price of attaining that long-desired goal was too high to allow
her to take true joy in it anymore.

  The papers had been diligent in reporting her quarrels with Harrow, and their entrance at the ball had drawn much attention. They’d parted, agreeing to meet again for the first dance, and since that moment, she’d drifted through a crowd seemingly determined to pretend she didn’t exist—at least until they thought her out of earshot.

  She’d anticipated as much.

  An announcement was made calling everyone for the first dance. She cast about, looking for Harrow.

  To her shock, however, it was Lucas who came to claim her. She balked as he reached for her hand, but he was too quick and drew her close before she could escape.

  His whisper at her ear was urgent. “I’ve spoken with Harrow. He’s agreed, but you must come with me now.”

  “Agreed to what?”

  He didn’t answer but instead pulled her out onto the ballroom floor and into position for the waltz.

  Though she knew nothing of any agreement between him and Harrow, something in his eyes drew her and wouldn’t allow her to refuse. If this was a torment she must withstand to lend fuel to the fire when Harrow cast her out, then so be it.

  At least I’ll have one last dance with the man I love…

  The orchestra struck up the tune, and they swung into motion. She could only look into Lucas’s eyes and hope he saw her love for him in hers. Learning that he’d stayed with her after her fall, hearing Harrow describe how he’d worried over her and refused to leave until he was certain of her safety, had told her all she needed to know.

  He loved her, but she’d had no choice other than breaking his heart as well as her own. Fate was capricious and cruel to give her such love only to tear it away. She must savor these last moments and commit them to memory.

  Halfway through the dance, the hammer fell as Harrow appeared and tore her from Lucas’s arms, eliciting from her a very genuine squeak of alarm. “I took you in and gave you everything, including my heart!” he yelled down at her. “I thought I had yours in return. You swore to me you had no love for him, but I see you lied about that, too!”

  Her flinch was involuntary. In all the time she’d known Harrow, she’d never seen him look so enraged. He’d always been so cool and reserved, even when facing down men who’d threatened to kill him in a duel. But this red-faced, trembling man before her was entirely believable, enough so that she felt the blood leave her head.

  He shook her by the shoulders. “What other lies have you told me?”

  That’s my cue. Her voice, for all its inadvertent unsteadiness, dripped with scorn. “You talk of love after you’ve willingly shared me with other men?” It was so strange, acting this out. It was as if Diana was no more, as if someone else stood in her place, occupying her skin.

  Now it was Harrow’s turn to flinch back as though she’d struck him. “I assumed you’d have told me had you not been amenable to—”

  A gasp erupted from her throat, cutting him off. “How was I to object to anything you suggested when my very survival depended upon satisfying your every whim?” She raised her voice a bit more. “Your desires dictated my actions!”

  “My desires? And what of yours? You wanted Blackthorn—a blind fool could see that much!”

  Real heat flooded her face, for this was truth, not pantomime. She shook off his arm and spoke through clenched teeth, pouring all her bitterness at how she’d been repeatedly robbed of happiness into her words. “I might not have done, had you not invited your friends into our bed!”

  His lips tightened into a grim line for a moment before he answered. “Don’t act as though you took no pleasure in it. I may have shared your favors, but until Blackthorn, it was always something we did together. I admit I made mistakes, but I’ve never once strayed from you on my own since the night I took your maidenhead, not even with my own wife. Does that not at least deserve your loyalty, if not your love?”

  A great swell of affection tightened her chest, and she had to fight to prevent it showing on her face. In front of countless witnesses of import, he’d just refuted the claims that had brought about her initial downfall in such a way as to forever call into question the integrity of the man who’d made them. She spied Grenville, who’d come to the fore to gloat over her humiliation, as he blanched and tried to press backward into the crowd. But the fox had already run among the chickens, and people nearby were already whispering and glancing at him in evident speculation.

  Gathering her courage, Diana pushed on. “I loved you well enough until you made me into what everyone else already thought I was,” she flung at him. Despite knowing this was all a sham, she couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes at this statement, which was so close to the truth. “You are to blame for this rift between us, not I. Had you allowed it, I would have remained faithful.”

  Harrow’s face took on the familiar cool indifference she’d seen him adopt so many times. “I very much doubt it,” he said dully. His gaze flicked to her left, and his eyes narrowed. “Ah, Blackthorn,” he said smoothly. “Come to claim your prize? You need not concern yourself that I’ll make any objection if you want to use her. She’s all yours, if indeed you still want the little jade.” Not waiting for a reply, he again directed his speech at her. “I want you gone from my house by this time tomorrow, and I wish never to see you again.”

  Lucas moved in between her and Harrow, his expression hard and defiant. “Then I fear you’ll need to remove yourself from London,” he growled. “Because I intend to make her my wife.”

  Gasps—including her own—erupted all around, rippling outward in a great susurration to the far corners of the room. The floor seemed to drop from beneath Diana’s feet, a faint buzzing began in her ears, and a queer sort of numbness spread from her midsection to her extremities.

  What is he doing?

  Turning his back on Harrow, Lucas took up her frozen hands between his own, his touch acting as an anchor, drawing her back into the sharpness of now. “I’ve thought about this for quite some time, and I know it’s what I want.” He dropped to his knees before her, eliciting another mass exhalation from those watching. “Marry me, Lady Diana Haversham, and make me the happiest of men.”

  Astonishment robbed her of both breath and speech for several long heartbeats. “You cannot marry me,” she blurted. “I’m—I’m—”

  “The only woman under heaven with whom I’m willing to spend the rest of my life,” he cut in. Reaching into his jacket pocket with his free hand, he pulled out a piece of parchment and held it out so she could see what was written on it. It was a special license. “We can be married tonight.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, shaking so hard she was surprised her bones weren’t rattling against one another loud enough for the entire assembly to hear them.

  “Because I love you,” he said loudly enough that all those around them heard it. “More than life itself.” The smile he gave her then nearly smote her to the ground with its sweetness. “I…adore you, Diana. Say you will become my wife?”

  She looked into his shining, rain-gray eyes and knew beyond any doubt that he meant it. This was no pantomime, no charade. It was real. His love was real.

  Joy born from the very deepest part of her heart filled her to bursting. She’d thought love unreliable, that people would always fail her and break her heart. I was wrong. I was wrong! Never had she been so happy to be wrong in her life! “Yes,” she answered, tears streaming down her cheeks even as she laughed. “I accept. I will marry you.”

  Rising, Lucas pulled her into his embrace and in front of God and what was likely the whole of the Ton, including Prinny himself, kissed her.

  With all the love in her overflowing heart, she answered him back in kind.

  When they broke at last, Lucas again faced Harrow. All around them, wide eyes looked between the two men. “If you’re going to call me out, I’ll request at least one night with my wife before facing you on the field.”

  Harrow’s face was like a ston
e. “Why bother risking my life over something of no worth? She’s your concern now. I wish you all the luck with your fickle-hearted bride.” Turning on his heel, he strode away, the flabbergasted crowd hastily parting before him.

  Diana watched him go with deepest gratitude, knowing Lucas would tell her of his plans later in privacy. Her husband-to-be offered his arm. Taking it, she ran the gauntlet past their boggle-eyed audience with a smile—a smile that, almost impossibly, stretched just a little wider as they passed her aunt and uncle, who were, like everyone else, too stunned to do anything but stare.

  Epilogue

  Surrey, 1816

  Diana strolled beside her husband, enjoying their afternoon constitutional. It was beautiful here. The sun was warm on her back, the breeze cool on her cheeks, carrying with it a hint of the flowers blooming in the hedgerow.

  Lucas laughed at the spectacle ahead of them as their almost four-year-old son, Jason, chased after his new puppy, which gamboled to and fro across the path. When the rambunctious duo trundled off to have a look at the pond and see if there were any frogs to catch, Lucas put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I meant to tell you, Westing and Charlotte will be visiting us next week.”

  She grinned in delight. “I can hardly wait to see them again!” The pair had brushed off Society’s disapproval to become their closest friends. “I also have news. I received a letter today from Mr. Lambert.”

  “So that’s why you wanted me to come along on your little jaunt,” he teased, shooting her an amused sidelong glance. “And how is your dear cousin?”

  Her “dear cousin” was actually Harrow, who’d written them faithfully over the years under an assumed name to share happy news of his travels with René.

  “He’s purchased a villa in Naples, and we’ve been invited to holiday with them this winter.”