A Little Bit Wicked

by Victoria Alexander

  “He says he’s reformed,” Judith murmured.

  “Perhaps he has. Or perhaps he’s simply more discreet, which I suppose does indicate reformation of some sort.” Susanna paused for a moment. “I will admit that I don’t know the man personally. I daresay there aren’t many who do. But I do know that he’s far and away too reserved for you. He strikes me as a man who holds the reins on his emotions tightly. Not the type you usually choose and not the least bit amusing. I can’t imagine Lord Warton would be the least bit enjoyable to…well, to be with.”

  Judith bit back a grin. “Appearances can be most deceiving.”

  “Good God.” Susanna stared. “Please don’t tell me it was wonderful.”

  “Very well. But it was.” Judith grinned in a manner far more restrained than she felt. Susanna’s reaction to Judith’s involvement with Gideon was unexpected and rather shocking. Susanna had never expressed any sort of reservation regarding Judith’s liaisons.

  Susanna was a year or so older than Judith and had been married to a cousin of Judith’s mother so distant, they could scarcely be called relations. Their husbands had died within six months of each other, neither had children, and their mutual losses had forged a firm friendship that only grew stronger through the years. Both women enjoyed busy social lives, but while Judith’s parties tended toward week-long gatherings at her country estate, literary salons, and the occasional ball, Susanna preferred musicales and poetry readings featuring her beloved, and numerous, nieces and nephews. She wanted more than anything to have children of her own. Susanna was from an extremely large and fertile family. Judith quite liked watching them from a distance and found herself at once jealous and grateful that she was without family to speak of. Except, of course, for Susanna herself, who was very much the sister Judith never had.

  The two women differed as well in their attitudes toward men. Susanna was determined to marry again, but only when she found someone who could make her toes curl and her stomach flutter the way her late husband, Charles, had. The very moment she met such a man she would wed him and bed him without hesitation and not necessarily in that order. Until then, she had no desire to share any man’s bed. Even so, she quite enjoyed watching Judith’s flirtations and adventures. And until now had done so with both encouragement and enthusiasm.

  Susanna drained the drink in her teacup and refilled it with equal parts of tea and whisky. Apparently she thought this was a crisis of unprecedented proportions. She took a sip, set the cup down on a side table, then moved from her chair to sit beside Judith on the settee.

  “Dearest Judith.” Susanna took Judith’s hands. “Cousin.” Judith braced herself. Susanna never called her cousin unless the situation was truly dire. “I’m very much afraid that you are not seeing what’s right in front of you.”

  “I’m not?” Judith said slowly.

  “No, dear heart, you must face the facts. You entered this relationship—”

  “Leaped?” Judith offered.

  “Exactly.” Susanna nodded. “You leaped without hesitation. You have always given a considerable amount of thought before you have shared any man’s bed, and that you have not done so now means a great deal.”

  “Nonsense.” Judith tried to pull her hands free but Susanna held firm.

  “Beyond that, you have always made a gentleman, to be blunt, work for the privilege of your company. There has always been an appropriate flirtation that led, eventually, to your bed.”

  “It sounds rather predictable,” Judith muttered. She wasn’t at all sure she liked the idea that this part of her life was predictable.

  “It is predictable inasmuch as any sort of dance is predictable. There are steps you must follow to get to the end. One simply can’t go flitting about doing what ever move one fancies or, heaven forbid, skipping over all the steps entirely and going right for the final pirouette.”

  “One can’t?”

  “Of course not. Why, people would be stumbling around, knocking into one another. It would be chaos. Anarchy.”

  Judith raised a brow. “Anarchy?”

  “And someone could be hurt.” Susanna’s gaze met Judith. “Someone’s heart could be broken.”

  Judith laughed. “I have no intention of allowing my heart to be broken.”

  “One does not allow one’s heart to be broken. It happens when one least expects it. When one tosses away all semblance of rational behavior and…and leaps!”

  “I scarcely think—”

  “We’ve already agreed that you have not been thinking at all. You’ve been swept along by emotion and excitement and passion and, yes, even lust.” Susanna sighed. “I can certainly understand being swept away and I agree he is handsome and dashing, but the very fact that you’ve been swept away at all is what makes this, and him, so very dangerous.”

  “I don’t believe—”

  “You never been swept away before. You’ve always kept your head.”

  “Even so I don’t—”

  “You will fall in love with him and he will break your heart because he will abandon you to marry the aforementioned simpering virgin.”

  “I shall not be abandoned,” Judith said firmly. “We have agreed that when either of us feels it is time to end our relationship we can do so without recrimination. We have no obligation to one another beyond that. Indeed, we have agreed to remain friends.”

  Susanna gaze met hers. “One cannot be friends with a man one has loved.”

  Judith scoffed, “I have no intention of loving him.”

  “My dear, dear friend. Do not forget I have observed you through four adventures—”

  “Lovett doesn’t count,” Judith said.

  “He does for these purposes and I have never seen you as you are now. Your behavior, the look in your eye, the lilt in your voice.” Susanna shook her head in a mournful manner. “You have all the symptoms of a woman who is perilously close to falling in love.”

  “You do realize, I have not given up the idea of killing you.” Gideon sat in his usual chair in the lounge at his club with two of his oldest friends and savored the taste of a fine brandy.

  “Nonsense.” The Marquess of Helmsley, Jonathon Effington, settled deeper in his chair and chuckled. “It was a joke and a damn clever one at that.”

  “Even you have to admit that much, Warton.” Norcroft grinned.

  “I needn’t admit anything of the sort.” Gideon turned his attention back to Helmsley. “I have considered shooting you but I fear that will be too quick and possibly painless. I should much prefer that you suffer.” Gideon smiled in a pleasant manner and swirled the brandy in his glass. “Strangulation has a great deal of appeal.”

  Helmsley laughed. “Come now, it was funny.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes. “I felt like an idiot.”

  “It scarcely matters how you felt.” Helmsley grinned. “What did Judith think?”

  Gideon heaved a resigned sigh. “She found it most amusing.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s just the sort of prank Judith would appreciate.” Helmsley shook his head. “I do have one regret though.”

  Gideon raised a brow. “That you made a fool out of me?”

  “Not at all,” Helmsley scoffed. “I simply regret that I was not there to see it.” He took a sip of his brandy and studied Gideon over the rim of the glass. His eyes twinkled wickedly. “Was Judith touched by your thoughtfulness?”

  “Indeed she was.” Gideon smiled in spite of himself. “She was also very pleased to get her orchid back.”

  “I thought she would be.” Helmsley took a sip of his drink and considered his friend. “Dare I ask how the rest of the evening went?”

  “You may ask.”

  “I see.” Norcroft grinned. “You have always been discreet, even with your closest friends.”

  “Especially with my closest friends,” Gideon said firmly.

  “You will be seeing her again then?” Helmsley asked casually.

  Gideon stifled a grin. Helmsle
y was obviously curious about exactly what had transpired last night with Judith. And if it was any woman other than Judith he probably would have asked directly. It spoke well of Helmsley, but then that came as no surprise. Helmsley was a good man and a better friend, as was Norcroft. Gideon had never told them, nor did he ever plan to, but he credited his own reformation to the two men. He had known both of them in school but they had not become friends until years later. Precisely when he had needed friends.

  Gideon had spent the first year or so after his debacle of a marriage in behavior designed to cut short even the hardiest of lives. He lived in a raucous, drunken blur. He lost huge sums at the gaming tables and neither noted it nor cared. He had more women than any man had a right to, names he never knew, faces he did not remember. The only thing that had saved him from the complete ruination of his name and total destruction of his reputation was that he had abandoned proper London society altogether. He attended no balls, no soirees, no gatherings with eager matrons hoping to marry their daughters to eligible viscounts. He moved in an underworld of London life, in the East End near the docks or Southwark or Seven Dials or any number of disreputable districts that few gentlemen acknowledged existed and fewer still dared to visit after dark. He was robbed and beaten on more than one occasion.

  It was in Haymarket that he and Helmsley and Norcroft had resumed their acquaintance. The pair were attempting to win an absurd wager with Cavendish, who, for perhaps the first and last time, was smart enough not to accompany them, and were involved in an altercation with ruffians even more unsavory than usual. In subsequent years, all three would disagree over who had rescued whom, while Cavendish would mourn the fact that he was not in on this particular exploit. Seeing these men of his own station in life had shocked Gideon with the realization of how low he had sunk. He had returned home and wondered why he would allow the mere loss of a woman to destroy his life. He considered the question for three full days, locked in his rooms. When he came out, he was no longer under the influence of alcohol or unrequited love. He picked up precisely where he’d left off his life. If he was considerably more cynical, or a touch more droll in manner, if his tongue was sharper on occasion than it should have been, well, it was to be expected. He was a different man. Two years later he noticed he, Helmsley, Norcroft, and Cavendish frequented the same clubs, the same social events, indeed, the same world. The men became friends and had been friends since.

  “I intend to see her as often as possible,” Gideon said mildly. Every day if he could and most definitely every night.

  “I do consider her my friend, you know,” Helmsley said in a matter-of-fact manner.

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Which compels me to ask about your intentions.” Helmsley’s tone was unconcerned but there was a serious look in his eyes.

  Norcroft groaned.

  Gideon raised a brow. “My intentions?”

  Helmsley nodded. “Yes.”

  “Come now, Helmsley,” Norcroft said. “You are her former lover not her father.”

  Helmsley cast a firm glance at the other man. “I am her friend and I take that responsibility seriously.”

  “You’re my friend as well,” Gideon said. “Shouldn’t you be asking her what her intentions are toward me?”

  “He’s never shown the least bit of concern as to what a woman’s intentions were toward me.” Norcroft shook his head in a mournful manner. “I may well never get over the slight.”

  Helmsley ignored him. “Should the situation arise—”

  “I can tell you what my intentions were before last night.” Gideon flashed him a wicked grin. “As well as what they are now.”

  “Oh?” Helmsley raised a brow.

  “We intend to enjoy one another’s company for as long as we both wish.”

  “I see.” Helmsley considered him for a moment, then blew a long breath. “There are things about Judith you might wish to know.”

  “I prefer to learn them for myself,” Gideon said. The way her back arched upward in the heat of passion, the way her eyes glazed in the throes of lovemaking, the way her heart beat against his.

  “Yes, I understand that,” Helmsley said wryly. “I am not speaking of intimate details.”

  “Thank God,” Norcroft murmured.

  Helmsley paused as if debating the wisdom of his words. “There is much more to Judith than meets the eye.”

  “What meets the eyes is more than enough.” Gideon chuckled. “Judith Chester is perhaps the most in de pen dent, self-sufficient woman I have ever met as well as being delightful and quite lovely.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Do you know she set, well, rules is the only accurate word for it, for our affair?”

  Norcroft snorted back a laugh. “Rules?”

  “Rules?” Helmsley frowned. “She never set rules for me.”

  That’s because she did not leap into your bed without thought. Gideon smiled but said nothing.

  “Rules?” Helmsley shook his head in disbelief. “I wonder…it scarcely matters now I suppose. As I was saying, Judith is not exactly as she appears. She is intensely private and I suspect her lighthearted manner is not entirely her nature. I have seen a glimpse through the years of her true character and I don’t think she is as strong as she appears.”

  “Few of us are,” Norcroft murmured.

  Helmsley studied Gideon. “What do you know of her marriage?”

  Gideon shrugged. “Nothing other than I know she believes her husband was her soul mate.”

  “I thought as much although she’s never spoken of him to me.” Helmsley stared. “The fact that she has done so to you—”

  “It was an offhand remark.” Gideon waved away the comment. “Nothing of true significance.” And yet Judith’s admission had been oddly unsettling.

  “Yes, well.” Helmsley looked mildly unsettled himself. “When Judith and I were…together, I made a few inquiries about her husband—”

  Norcroft raised a brow. “And she permitted that?”

  “She never knew and I have no desire for her to find out now.” Helmsley met Gideon’s gaze. “Agreed?”

  Gideon nodded.

  “Judith married Baron Chester when she was no more than seventeen. He was not considerably older but had already come into his title and a significant fortune. The rumor at the time apparently was that they fell in love the moment they met. They were married almost at once.” Helmsley sipped his brandy. “Judith’s parents died the following year.”

  Gideon drew his brows together. “Both of them?”

  Helmsley nodded. “Smallpox, I think. They left her a great deal of money, but all Judith really had left in the world was her husband.” Helmsley thought for a moment. “From what I have heard he was an odd sort, fancied himself a poet. He had no family to speak of, possibly a sister if I recall. They entertained a great deal, grand, extravagant parties, but gossip had it that he was melancholy as often as he was in high spirits. Three years into their marriage, he died.”

  “How?” Norcroft asked.

  “Some sort of accident, I believe, but no one seemed to know anything specific, at least no one I spoke to.” Helmsley shrugged. “This all comes from various female members of my family. If there is gossip to be had or a juicy story to be told, Effington women are certain to know it. That they had few details indicates either Chester was extremely private—”

  “As is his wife,” Gideon murmured.

  “Or there was something…” Helmsley hesitated. “Wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Norcroft’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean wrong?”

  “Wrong with Chester?” Gideon leaned forward in his chair. “Was he perhaps ill, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. It was a feeling, nothing more than that.” Helmsley met Gideon’s gaze directly. “Judith never speaks of him.”

  “That alone is rather odd, isn’t it.” Gideon considered the matter. “One would think a woman deeply in love with her husband would mention his name on occasion
.”

  “Unless she preferred to forget him.” Helmsley raised his glass pointedly.

  “Or she wishes to preserve memories she has no desire to share,” Norcroft added.

  “Perhaps.” Helmsley shrugged. “She built that conservatory of hers after his death. I have always thought she poured the passion she had for her husband into her plants.”

  “Probably.” Gideon settled back in his chair. “Judith is a woman of great passion. One can see it in every step she takes. But I don’t understand why you think she is not the woman she appears.”

  “I don’t know.” Helmsley tossed back the brandy in his glass and held it up to a passing waiter, who promptly replaced it with a filled glass. One of the best things about a private gentlemen’s club was that the staff knew a member’s habits and desires almost before the gentleman himself. “You know, Warton, women generally find me extremely charming.”

  Gideon laughed. “And modest as well.”

  “Judith and I are better friends than we are anything else.”

  “No doubt because you’re so charming.” Norcroft grinned.

  “One would think.” Helmsley sighed. “However, when we were more than friends, she did not…we simply did not…that is to say, I did but she obviously didn’t…”

  “Obviously didn’t what?” Gideon said slowly.

  Helmsley shrugged. “My charming nature aside, my feelings for her were significantly stronger than her feelings for me.”

  Norcroft raised a brow. “You fell in love with her?”

  “Everyone falls in love with Judith in one manner or another.” Helmsley waved off the comment. “And I didn’t, well, I did but not completely. She realized the potential for what I realize now would have been disaster, and ended it, or so she led me to believe. And she did so in a manner so pleasant, we have remained friends and more on occasion.”

  Gideon stared at his friend. “Are you still in love with her?”

  “In an odd way I suppose I am a little and probably always will be.” Helmsley chuckled. “Not something I would want my new wife to know, of course.”