The Wicked Cousin

by Stella Riley

  ‘Thought they might like it,’ mumbled his lordship. ‘I did tell Sebastian he didn’t have to use it.’

  ‘And I hadn’t intended to,’ said Sebastian. ‘But I couldn’t not tell Cassandra about it.’

  ‘A convenient scruple,’ remarked Charles sardonically.

  ‘No – it’s true,’ said Cassie. ‘Holding our wedding on the day of the ball was my idea, not Sebastian’s. He’s spent the last half-hour trying to talk me out of it because he thinks I’ll regret not having a fashionable wedding.’

  ‘And won’t you?’ asked her mother.

  ‘No. Everyone gets married at St George’s in Hanover Square. But a private ceremony here with our family and closest friends … and then an announcement at the ball? I think it would be romantic.’

  ‘Romantic,’ muttered her mother. ‘That’s all we need.’

  ‘Is this what you want, Cassie?’ asked her father. ‘Not just what Sebastian wants?’

  ‘Yes. I’m absolutely certain. So may we?’

  ‘Do not say a word, Charles,’ snapped Serena.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, my love.’

  ‘Yes, you would. She’ll twist you around her little finger. She’s been doing it since she was two. And now it appears she’s having the same effect on Sebastian.’ She swung round to Cassie. ‘Tell me. Have you given any consideration at all to what people will think?’

  ‘Yes. Sebastian insisted on it. In fact, he became positively boring.’

  ‘Just like Great-Aunt Maude,’ murmured Sebastian. And reproachfully when Olivia giggled, ‘It isn’t funny. I was mortally wounded.’

  ‘May we please stick to the point?’ demanded Serena. ‘The notice of your betrothal was in the newspaper yesterday and roughly a hundred people have received invitations to a celebration of it. Nobody gets married inside a week, Cassie – not unless there’s some strong and usually unfortunate reason for it. And we don’t have any excuse at all.’

  Feeling that he had given the Delahayes sufficient time to have their say, Lord Wingham decided to play his ace. He said, ‘Yes, we do. It’s an Audley tradition.’

  There was another stunned silence. Finally Sebastian said, ‘A tradition? Really?’

  ‘Yes. I married your mother by special licence ten days after we met and your grandparents ran off and got married over the anvil,’ said the viscount calmly. ‘I can’t speak for earlier generations. But those I’ve mentioned both had exceptionally happy marriages … so I got the licence in case you and Cassandra wanted to carry on the custom. However, it’s not my decision to make. It’s yours.’

  * * *

  The following days passed in a blur during which Sebastian and Cassandra scarcely saw one another. She was caught up in fittings for a new gown, yet more lists for necessary re-arrangements and a host of other details; he had taken on the responsibility of making at least part of the house in Bruton Place habitable – a task which lack of time was turning into a nightmare. Fortunately, before he reached the point of tearing his hair out, Lady Sarre arrived and took control.

  Smiling serenely at Sebastian, Caroline told her husband to take him away.

  ‘Take him where?’ asked Adrian.

  ‘Anywhere. You’ll be standing up for him at his wedding, so I’m sure you’ll think of something. And I need to make the best use of the time we have left. I’ll visit Bruton Place with Cassie to learn her preferences, see what needs to be done and then take care of it – making the bedchambers, dressing-rooms and sitting-room a priority. As for the furniture you were told couldn’t be delivered until next week, Sebastian … the shop will not say that to me.’

  ‘They won’t?’ he asked, baffled but hopeful.

  ‘No.’ Adrian grinned. ‘Five minutes and they’ll either be grovelling at her feet or eating out of her hand. Now … Sinclairs or White’s?’

  ‘Angelo’s,’ said Sebastian. ‘And send a note asking Rockliffe to join us. Tell him that if he can disarm me in less than twelve minutes, I’ll tell him who owned the Casparov before me. That ought to get his attention.’

  * * *

  Sebastian kept hold of his foil for a record thirteen minutes, for which he earned a round of applause and the right to leave his Grace in suspense. Cassie, meanwhile, spent two hours in Bruton Place with Caroline discussing everything from candlesticks to chamber pots and then left her ladyship with a list several pages long and three days in which to accomplish it.

  On the following morning, Cassandra had a final fitting for the gown of pearl-coloured silk, exquisitely embroidered with delphinium thread that had unexpectedly become her wedding dress. So far, despite a clutch of new invitations summoning a select group to Conduit Street an hour before the start of the ball, no one seemed to suspect that plans had changed. With the exception of Lord and Lady Sarre who, of necessity, had been let in on the secret, everyone else continued to believe in the betrothal. Cassie wondered if that would last as long as was necessary.

  Two evenings before the ball while the gentlemen gathered at Sinclairs, Caroline dined with the Delahaye ladies and reported that good progress was being made in Bruton Place.

  ‘Everything should be ready in time,’ she said. ‘Sebastian’s things have been transferred from Cork Street and your maid can bring yours tomorrow – though you won’t need everything since you’re unlikely to be receiving visitors or attending parties for a few days.’

  This hadn’t previously occurred to Cassie and she said, ‘We won’t?’

  ‘No.’ Caroline laughed a little. ‘Sebastian will want you to himself for a time. And unless I completely mistake the matter, you’ll want the same.’

  Later that night after Caroline had gone home, Cassie considered what had been said and realised that the whirlwind of wedding preparations had temporarily caused her to lose sight of what they were all for. Now, curled upon the window-seat after her maid had prepared her for bed, she found herself contemplating the longed-for moment when she and Sebastian would be married; the moment when he would kiss her and touch her … and she might perhaps fall asleep in his arms and awake the same way; of not just hours but days alone with him. It was a possibility that made her body sizzle with an anticipation that, as yet, was beyond her comprehension.

  Mama hadn’t told her very much. She’d merely said that describing the marital act didn’t do it any favours; that the first time – and only the first time – might hurt a little; and that she was fairly sure Sebastian could be trusted to make the experience pleasurable. Cassie had no trouble believing the last bit. Putting Sebastian’s name and the word ‘pleasure’ into the same sentence made bits of her melt.

  * * *

  At Sinclairs, the exclusively male pre-celebration of Mr Audley’s betrothal had grown increasingly convivial. Sebastian was surprised to find that, with the exception of Philip Vernon, everyone was there – even his father. Having wined and dined, nine gentlemen settled down to a little gaming. Lord Nicholas, as the only other unmarried man present, twitted Sebastian cheerfully on falling so rapidly into the parson’s mouse-trap before eventually admitting that if a fellow had to dive into matrimony he could do a lot worse than Cassie.

  ‘You had your chance,’ replied Sebastian easily.

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t take me seriously. Girls rarely do.’

  Not for the first time in the last twenty minutes, his glance strayed to the door. It was a warm night and the room had become stuffy; windows had been opened and then, in the hope of catching a draught, the door to the corridor; and through it, Nicholas had gradually become aware of something unusual.

  Madeleine, who normally remained largely invisible on evenings like this, had glided across his field of vision at least four times in the last hour. Admittedly, there was another, smaller party in the room next to their own … but even so, it didn’t account for Madeleine tripping back and forth or, more interestingly, letting him see her do it. It was tempting to wonder if she was hoping to lure him out in order to
speak with him; but Nicholas was reluctant to make himself the butt of another round of teasing by obliging her – not to mention the fact that his brother was sitting on the far side of the table.

  He might have remained firmly in his seat had he not seen her make another pass – this time with some fellow he didn’t know lurching in her wake. Nicholas tensed, listening. He heard a slurred voice mumble something, immediately followed by what sounded like a slap.

  Damn, he thought. And quitting his chair, strolled with apparent laziness into the hall.

  A few feet away, the extremely inebriated gentleman had almost succeeded in pinning Madeleine to the wall and was trying to kiss her. Ramming both hands into his chest and simultaneously stamping on his foot, she said furiously, ‘Get off me, you oaf!’

  The man huffed a breath but was either too stupid or too drunk to relinquish his hold. Madeleine slapped him again and tried to twist herself free. He giggled.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake,’ she muttered. And catching sight of Nicholas watching from just a few feet away, ‘Are you just going to stand there?’

  Grinning, he wandered over and hooked his fingers into the fellow’s collar.

  ‘He’s on the point of passing out and you seemed to be doing well enough on your own. Also,’ he said, ‘I didn’t want to get my head bitten off for interfering. But since you ask …’ And pulling the man away from her, Nicholas slammed him with moderate force into the wall and let him slide to the floor, unconscious. Then, dusting off his hands, he said, ‘There’s no need to thank me – which is just as well since I doubt you were going to. And here come your guard dogs.’

  ‘About time.’ Madeleine tried to straighten her hair whilst scowling at the pair of oversize footmen whose primary job was to protect her from annoyance. ‘Dick; take that downstairs and tell Mr Jenkins to put him on the Black List. John; go to the blue salon and tell Lord Ansford that he and his party are to leave immediately or forfeit their membership.’ She waited while the orders slowly sank in. ‘Do it now.’

  ‘Yes, Mamzelle,’ they mumbled. ‘Right away, Mamzelle. Sorry.’

  Nicholas watched them depart in opposite directions, the unfortunate drunk slung over Dick’s brawny shoulder. Then, folding his arms, he said, ‘All right. You have my attention. What did you want?’

  Madeleine lifted her chin and stared back defiantly.

  ‘Why should you suppose I want anything?’ And when he merely raised one brow and said nothing, ‘Oh – very well. Your sister is taking tea with me tomorrow. I thought – it occurred to me that you – that you might care to accompany her.’

  ‘To sit drinking tea with you and Nell?’ He gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Hardly! Or not without some damned good incentive.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘Such as being allowed to take you driving.’

  ‘You know my answer to that.’

  ‘Yes. Here are two reasons to change it.’ Nicholas’s voice became unusually crisp. ‘Firstly, I’ve just stopped that drunken sot mauling you. And secondly, this is the last time I’ll ask. I’ve made a cake of myself over you for long enough. If you don’t want to know me, say so and I’ll walk away.’

  Colour bloomed along her cheekbones. ‘That sounds like an ultimatum.’

  ‘It is an ultimatum. Choose.’

  * * *

  When the footman arrived with the note, Lord Sarre was watching the game of basset over Rockliffe’s shoulder and Mr Audley had also quit the table on the grounds that he’d lost quite enough money for one night. This, as it turned out, was fortunate.

  Come home, Caroline had written. Sebastian has an uninvited guest. You may guess who it is. I’ll keep her here – but hurry.

  Wasting no time, Adrian caught Sebastian’s eye and summoned him with a slight jerk of his head. Then, handing him Caroline’s note, he said tersely, ‘Leave the excuses to me – and let’s go.’

  Five minutes later they were outside and pelting along St James Street in the direction of Piccadilly.

  ‘How the hell did she get in?’ snapped Sebastian.

  ‘No idea. More to the point, why haven’t Sir John’s fellows put the fear of God into her?’ They swung into Old Bond Street. ‘And why does being a friend of yours have to involve so much bloody running?’

  Caroline was waiting for them in the hall. Holding up a hand to prevent questions, she said rapidly, ‘She was here when I got home. If I hadn’t seen a light under your door, Sebastian, and thought someone had left candles burning, I’d probably still be none the wiser. As far as I can make out, a disturbance lured the footman into the street and he left the front door open behind him – which is presumably when she slipped inside.’

  ‘Hell,’ muttered Adrian. ‘Didn’t anybody see her?’

  ‘Such as who? This is a bachelor establishment with scarcely any staff. The cook and the maid had gone home; when Sebastian’s out for the evening, he gives Hobson the night off; and my own maid is fast asleep in the attic. That leaves one footman. And he was distracted.’ Caroline paused briefly and looked at Sebastian. ‘It’s possible that, between us, Thomas and I could have got rid of her. But I decided that, if this is ever to stop, it’s up to you to stop it. So I locked her in.’

  ‘Does she know that?’

  ‘Yes. I found her ensconced in your bed as near to naked as makes no difference. I don’t know which of us was more shocked. However … I recovered first and told her that you’d be home presently, meanwhile I’d prefer her not to wander about the house looking like a trollop. Then, while she was still trying to close her mouth, I took the key and used it – leaving Thomas on guard in case she somehow manages to get out.’ She glanced from him to Adrian and back again. ‘What are you going to do with her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ groaned Sebastian. ‘God knows, I’ve made it clear over and over again that there’s nothing to be gained by pursuing me. And Charles says Bow Street released her on the understanding that further incursions would put her behind bars. But none of it seems to get through.’ He shoved a hand through his hair and headed towards the stairs. ‘If it was a man, the solution would be easy. As it is, I’m a hairsbreadth away from strangling her.’

  ‘You might even get away with it,’ said Adrian. Then, realising that his wife was following them, ‘You should stay here, Caroline. This is likely to get ugly.’

  ‘Good.’ She sent him a grim smile. ‘She’s going to try dazzling the pair of you with her attributes. Let’s see if she still tries it with another woman in the room.’

  Upstairs, Thomas struggled to his feet and said miserably, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Audley, sir. I didn’t know as she was here and --’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ returned Sebastian, turning the key. ‘Just stay within call.’ Then, opening the door and striding through it, ‘I won’t ask what the hell you’re doing here, Miranda. Just get your clothes on and leave.’

  Completely ignoring the fact that Adrian and Caroline were two steps behind him, Lady Silvarez propped herself on one elbow and sent Sebastian a sultry smile. As Caroline had said, she was clad in a diaphanous pink thing which left nothing to the imagination and her partly-shorn hair had been artfully re-styled so that it clustered around her head in a halo of curls.

  ‘You don’t really want me to go,’ she said huskily. ‘Send them away … and I’ll remind you why.’

  He didn’t bother to answer. He simply crossed the room, grabbed hold of her wrist and started dragging from the bed only to have her lock her free arm about his neck and pull him off-balance so that he half-collapsed against her. The heavy scent of her perfume clogged his throat and her attempt to glue her mouth to his made him want to vomit.

  Pushing roughly away from her, he said, ‘For Christ’s sake, what is the matter with you? I know you’re vain, self-centred and stupid – but are you completely insane as well? I do not want you. I will never want you – and planting yourself in my bed won’t change that.’

  She laughed. ‘It would if you’d l
et it. Why do you insist on lying to yourself?’

  ‘That’s your province, not mine.’ He paused, trying to hold on to the shreds of his temper and regulate his breathing. ‘You’ve got to let go of this ridiculous obsession before it destroys your life. Is that what you want?’

  ‘I want you. I’ve always wanted you and --’

  ‘Want away, then – because it will be a cold day in hell before you have me.’ Seeing her clothes laid over a chair, he picked them up and hurled them on top of her. ‘This is my last warning, Miranda. Get dressed and go while you still have the chance.’

  ‘You don’t mean it. Why don’t you stop fighting and admit that you love me.’

  ‘Love you?’ It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh. ‘Not only do I not love you, I’ve actually started to learn what hate feels like. Merely looking at you turns my stomach. All I want is for you to get the bloody hell out of my life and stay there.’

  ‘Why are you being so cruel?’ She shook her head, as if confused. ‘It’s not meant to be like this. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. I love you.’

  ‘Oh don’t be so ridiculous!’ snapped Caroline, moving several steps closer around the bed. ‘Of course you don’t love him. You don’t even know the meaning of the word. If you loved him, you’d leave him alone.’

  ‘And what would you know about it?’ Miranda’s tone switched abruptly from sadness to spite. ‘A plain, dull woman like you? What man has ever wanted you so badly he’d sooner die than live without you?’

  ‘This one,’ said Adrian laconically, picking up a pair of scissors from the wash-stand. ‘And if you don’t want me to finish what Sebastian started, you’ll keep your filthy tongue off my wife.’

  Miranda’s jaw dropped. Beaming, Caroline said softly, ‘Thank you, Adrian.’

  ‘Well it’s true,’ he replied. And to Miranda, ‘Face it. You are a whore – and Sebastian is done with you. If he wasn’t, do you honestly think he’d be standing there looking ready to throw up?’