A Little Bit Wicked

by Victoria Alexander

  That was another thing. Or rather three things; Jonathon, Harold, and Samuel—Lovett still didn’t count—but especially Jonathon. She was not the least bit ashamed of her past. She was a wealthy widow and she could well behave as she wished. And dear Lord, in spite of Susanna and the other friends she had made, she’d been so desperately lonely and so very alone through the years. It was a reason more than an excuse. She certainly didn’t need an excuse. Still, it seemed she was somewhat more thin-skinned about her adventures than she had thought.

  She glanced at Arthur. “As much as I denied it, I was annoyed by his comment.”

  Arthur yawned.

  “Still and all, it doesn’t seem to me that three lovers in ten years is an exorbitant amount. And without an occasional adventure, life would be unbearable.” She blew a long breath. “It’s exceedingly difficult to live entirely by oneself, you know.”

  Arthur barked once and wagged his tail.

  “My apologies, I do have you.” She stepped to the bed and sat down beside the dog. At once he put his head in her lap and she scratched behind his ears. “I must confess, it’s difficult to consider your life and wonder if every decision you’ve made regarding marriage or adventures or, well, men has been a mistake. I don’t think it has. Not all of it anyway. I have no apologies to make to anyone and no real regrets.”

  The dog sighed with contentment.

  “So why should I be bothered if he cares about my past? Why, he probably doesn’t care at all. It was an offhand comment. The sort of thing one says without due consideration.” She grimaced. “The sort of thing one says because it has been on one’s mind.

  “Nonetheless, it scarcely matters. It’s not as if either of us are in love or considering marriage. I certainly am not. This will end with him the same way it ended with Jonathon and Harold and Samuel.”

  Beneath her fingers, she could feel Arthur’s warm body breathe evenly and knew the dog had fallen asleep. She suspected sleep would be somewhat more difficult for her. Too many thoughts and questions filled her mind for rest. None of which had answers.

  “I just don’t understand why I have said things to him I have never said to anyone,” she said softly. “Or why when he said he wished to be with me for a long time, I didn’t object. I was glad. Unreasonably glad. And I don’t understand at all”—she heaved a frustrated sigh—“why I cannot wait to see him again.”

  Gideon nodded to the young footman who silently opened the door to the grand house that had been the London residence of Pearsalls for generations. On the console table in the front entry a glass of brandy waited, thanks to the efficiency of his butler. Wells had been with him since shortly after Gideon’s father had died. Good man, Wells. Gideon picked up the glass and drew a long swallow, savoring the taste of the liquor. There was nothing like a brandy before bed, especially if one wanted to sleep as opposed to allowing one’s mind to dwell on an annoying, perplexing enigma of a woman.

  “She cannot have children, you know,” Aunt Louisa said from the shadows of the stairway.

  “Who cannot have children?” Gideon asked, even though he knew exactly who she meant.

  “Lady Chester.” Aunt Louisa came down the stairs into view like the goddess of interference descending Mount Meddling.

  “And how, my dear aunt, would you know that?”

  Aunt Louisa paused. “Admittedly it’s an assumption but not without merit,” she added quickly. “She has been married and she has not been entirely celibate in her widowhood, therefore it’s logical to assume she cannot have children.”

  “It’s not the least bit logical,” Gideon said coolly. “It’s a conclusion based on nothing more than speculation. Besides, it scarcely matters. I am not interested in children with Lady Chester.”

  “She’s too old for you,” Aunt Louisa said firmly.

  He laughed. “She’s two years younger than I am.”

  “It’s not enough.” Aunt Louisa shook her head. “You need someone much, much younger. Someone pliable, who will obey you without question—”

  “I believe I have servants for that.”

  She ignored him. “Someone with an impeccable reputation. Someone, well”—she drew out the word slowly for emphasis—“untouched, as it were.”

  “A virgin for sacrifice on the high altar of continuance of the family name, Aunt Louisa?”

  “Nonsense.” She sniffed. “Marriage to you wouldn’t be a sacrifice for anyone, virginal or otherwise.”

  “That is a matter of some debate, I suspect.” The last thing he wished to do at the moment was have yet another discussion with his aunt about his need to marry. She would point out that he was not getting younger. He would counter with numerous examples of men far older than himself fathering children. She would propose he casually peruse a list of young women she had carefully selected, said list changing from year to year with Aunt Louisa’s whims and the eligibility of the young ladies in her sights. He would thank her for her concern and strongly suggest she return to playing cards with her friends and working for charitable causes and leave his personal life, especially when it came to the selection of a wife, bloody well alone. He had no desire to deal with this particular topic to night but it appeared he had no choice. Aunt Louisa was like a terrier with a bone when she wished to be. “May I retire to my rooms and enjoy the oblivion of slumber, or are you determined to discuss this now?”

  “Determined is such a hard word. Let us simply say I wish to discuss it.”

  “Ah yes, wish does make it more palatable.” He tossed back the rest of his drink and started toward the library. “Very well then. But if I am going to be forced to discuss something I have no desire to speak of at the moment, I wish to at least wash down the proceedings with another brandy.”

  She trailed behind him. “You drink entirely too much.”

  “You criticize entirely too much.”

  A lamp was lit on the desk in the middle of the small library, a decanter and another glass were conveniently placed beside the lamp. No doubt Wells had left the lamp burning and the brandy ready when he realized Aunt Louisa’s intention to ambush Gideon upon his return home. The butler was probably even now lurking about should Gideon feel the need for rescue, although Aunt Louisa would much prefer there be no witnesses. Gideon refilled his glass and glanced at his aunt. “Well? Go on.”

  Aunt Louisa squared her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her. “Gideon, I think it would be best if you cease your attentions toward Lady Chester.”

  “Imagine my surprise. Do tell me, aside from the fact that you think she is too old, too childless, and too touched, as it were, why?” He took a sip of his brandy. “Have you considered that she is also too lovely, too charming, and entirely too clever?”

  “Actually I have.” She stepped to the decanter, poured a glass of her own, and took a long sip. Aunt Louisa had a capacity for alcohol that rivaled that of most men of his acquaintance. “That—all of that—is also why I think you should stop seeing her.”

  He raised a brow. “If you want me to seriously consider your opinion in this matter you shall have to try harder to make sense.”

  “I am making perfect sense,” she snapped. “Lady Chester is indeed charming, quite pretty, as well as intelligent. But she is not the right woman for you.”

  “You’re right as always. Why on earth would I want a woman who is charming, pretty, and intelligent?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I do hate it when you act as if you have no idea what I am talking about.”

  “It’s the best weapon at my disposal.” He blew a long breath. “My dear aunt, I appreciate your concern. I know you think I should be actively hunting a wife, although the thought alone conjures visions of tracking wild beasts through the darkest reaches of Africa. Frankly, I see no particular hurry—”

  “Unless, of course, you die unexpectedly and your cousins get all that should rightfully go to your sons.”

  “I assure you I shall do everything in my power to
avoid unexpected demise to preserve the inheritance of those as yet non ex is tent sons.”

  “That does indeed ease my mind,” she said sharply and drained her brandy.

  “It should.” He plucked her glass from her hand, refilled it, and handed it back to her. “You have my word I shall not die before I have provided for the continuation of the family name.”

  She snorted.

  “However, until that time comes I intend to see whomever I choose, including and especially Lady Chester.”

  She shook her head. “She is a dreadful mistake, Gideon.”

  “Not at all, Aunt Louisa. I find her…” Exciting. Vulnerable. Fascinating. “Quite refreshing.”

  She cast him a sharp glance. “You’re falling in love with her.”

  He laughed. “I most certainly am not. I am not the least bit interested in love, nor is she. If anything we have fallen”—he cast his aunt a wicked glance—“in lust.”

  “Do not look at me like that. As if I should faint dead away by the so much as a mere mention of the word lust. If you think you can shock me you are sadly mistaken. I am made of far sterner stuff than that. Besides, I am not completely unfamiliar with lust myself.”

  “That admission is more than I prefer to know. However”—he eyed her thoughtfully—“as you are familiar with lust, then you of all people should be able to recognize it.”

  “I do. I recognize something else as well.” She studied him for a long moment. “Gideon, do understand I like Lady Chester a great deal. I agree with everything you have said about her. She is bright and amusing and lovely. If the stakes were not as great, I would accept your feelings for her—”

  “I have no feelings,” he said quickly.

  “I might even encourage you. As it is, I am certain”—her gaze met his—“this will end badly.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I should hate to see your heart broken again,” she said quietly.

  “As would I. But my heart is not involved.”

  “You protest entirely too much, my boy.” She sighed in resignation. “You have the look of a man about to fling himself off a very high cliff without concern as to the rocks waiting below.”

  “That’s remarkably poetic, but I will tell you yet again, I am not flinging myself off a cliff. I am not falling in love, and my heart is not at risk. Lady Chester and I have not as yet spent a great deal of time together, but do understand, my dear aunt, I intend to remedy that. As I said, I appreciate your concern, misguided though it may be.” He thought for a moment. “You should understand as well that I am not the same man I was nine years ago. I am older and, God willing, wiser. Regardless of what might happen, my heart will not be broken. I will not permit it.”

  “You are an arrogant man, Gideon Pearsall. As your father was before you and our father before him.” She shook her head. “Your arrogance will be your downfall exactly as it was theirs.”

  Gideon laughed. “My grandfather died in his bed at a rather impressive age and my father was felled by influenza. Neither of which could be blamed on arrogance.

  She sniffed in a haughty manner. “It was only a matter of time.”

  “I was under the impression you thought a woman would be my downfall,” he said mildly

  “One and the same, Gideon, one and the same.”

  It was pointless to argue with the woman. The only side of an argument she ever acknowledged that had any merit whatsoever was her own. Past time to end it, at least for to night. Gideon was under no illusions that the topic was put to rest. Not with Aunt Louisa.

  “This is getting tiresome, Aunt.” Gideon finished the last of his brandy and set the glass on the desk. “It’s long past the time we should both be in our beds.”

  “I daresay you have already—”

  “Yes?” A warning sounded in his voice.

  “—been up entirely too long.” Aunt Louisa smiled innocently. It was a dangerous smile and the one thing guaranteed to make Gideon’s fingers itch to wrap themselves around her neck. That too innocent smile was a weapon he had no defense against and as such was most infuriating. Aside from that, arguing with her was almost fun. “Do sleep well, Gideon.”

  “Aunt Louisa.” He nodded, turned, and strode out of the library.

  “Did you know you have a hole in your trousers?” she called after him. “You should do something about that. It’s not the least bit…”

  He started up the stairs, firmly ignoring the chastisement that trailed after him. Of course he knew he had a hole in his blasted pants. He could tell by the air that wafted down the back of his leg. It was worth it, though. A pair of trousers was a small enough price to pay for what had truly been a splendid evening. Oh, certainly there had been a few difficult moments when Judith had refused any discussion of the past. He had never known a woman who was so determined not to talk about her life, especially one who to all appearances had little to hide. Judith wasn’t quite the well-read book she had claimed but she was not anonymous either. Perhaps Helmsley was right. Perhaps there had been something wrong regarding her husband and her marriage.

  He absently opened the door to his rooms and stepped inside, grateful, as always when he arrived home at this hour, that he had long ago reached an understanding with his valet. Unless the man was awakened by Gideon’s riotous arrival home, which typically meant His Lordship had had entirely too much to drink and therefore lacked the skills to undress himself, he was not to attend him. Gideon was grateful as well that his aunt’s rooms were in the opposite wing of the house.

  The wisest course, the easiest thing to do, would be to abide by Judith’s wishes and leave the past in the past. Besides, he’d never been especially interested in a woman’s background before. Why was he so interested now? He had no idea nor did he care. He simply wanted to know everything about her. It was probably idle curiosity. After all, didn’t one always want to uncover a secret? It was no more important than that.

  He doubted anyone else would agree. His aunt’s tirade was tiresome, but so too was the insistence of everyone around him that his heart would surely be broken by Judith or that hers would be broken by him. Blast it all, he was certainly not interested in love. Nor was she. They’d said as much to each other right from the start. Hadn’t they? Not in so many words perhaps but the meaning was clear. He shrugged off his coat and dropped it on a chair. Still, it would do no harm to find out exactly what her thoughts were on the subject of something beyond friendly affection between them.

  Abruptly a thought struck him. It would be wise to determine exactly what his thoughts were as well. In spite of what he’d said to his aunt or Helmsley, at this particular moment he wasn’t at all sure he knew the answer.

  Chapter 7

  “T his has gone far enough, Gideon.” Judith sat across from Gideon in his carriage on their way to who knew where. She tried to sound commanding but suspected she sounded far more delighted than demanding. Which, in fact, she was. “I insist you tell me where we’re going at once.”

  “I am kidnapping you and spiriting you away to the south of Spain where we shall live the remainder of our days frolicking on sun-drenched beaches and wearing very few clothes,” he said in a casual manner as if he were suggesting nothing more unusual than a drive in the country.

  “Oh.” She paused thoughtfully. “That could be something of a problem.”

  “Do you think so?” It was too dark to see the expression on his face but she could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Well, I haven’t a thing with me that would be suitable for the sun-drenched beaches of Spain or frolicking for that matter.”

  “Hence the need for very few clothes.” He chuckled. “I suspect you’ll adapt.”

  “Oh, I would think so.” At once the image of white sand beaches and palm trees and exotic plants flashed into her mind. A brilliant sun blazed in blue skies, reflected in even bluer waters. It was a vision of exceptional warmth touched with hedonistic decadence and much more than a little bit wicked. Part
icularly since, there in the blue water, without benefit of any clothing whatsoever, Gideon grinned at her. His skin was darkly tanned and his hair ruffled by the wind. He looked like anything but an English gentleman and his laugh wrapped around her very soul. In spite of herself, a slight wistful note sounded in her voice. “Are we really going to Spain?”

  He laughed and her stomach tightened. “Not to night. To night is a surprise.”

  “Spain would be a surprise,” she murmured, firmly thrusting aside the look in the eyes of a completely uncivilized Gideon.

  “Indeed it would but to night’s surprise is not quite as exotic.” He thought for a moment. “Somewhat exotic I should think, at least in subject, but not up to the standards of sunny Spanish beaches.”

  “Pity.” She paused. “Exotic, did you say?”

  “You are like a child at Christmas.”

  “Indeed I am. I like surprises, good ones that is. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Although I daresay I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “One doesn’t think about surprises. One simply enjoys them.”

  He chuckled. “I shall have to surprise you more often.”

  “See that you do,” she said in a prim manner that belied the excitement simmering inside her. Not just for what ever this surprise of his was, but simply because he did that to her. Blasted man.

  It had been nearly three weeks since their altercation and rather remarkable weeks at that. There had been no actual apologies on either side; she certainly had nothing to apologize for and apparently he felt neither did he. There was something of an unspoken truce between them on subjects she did not wish to speak of, although they certainly did not hesitate to discuss anything and everything else. Politics, art, literature, gossip. They found themselves in accord on a number of things. Both were intrigued by photography and concerned about the inevitability of war with Russia. Anything they disagreed on, they disagreed on with fervor. Which was every bit as much fun as agreement.

  She had spent nearly every night locked in his arms, swept away by passion and fire or bewitched by tenderness and affection. He had accompanied her again to the theater. She had gone riding with him in the park. They had wandered together through several museums perusing artifacts and art. There too, they were not always in agreement, but debate proved to be as enjoyable as everything else. He had escorted her to yet another endless evening of entertainment at Susanna’s where their hostess had seemed slightly ill at ease, which wasn’t the least bit like Susanna, but then Susanna had not been approving of their relationship in the first place. When he was not with her in the flesh he was always firmly present in the back of her mind. And on those rare nights when he was not in her bed, he was in her dreams, and she woke each day with a smile on her lips. All in all, Judith’s life had never been so full. Or so passionate.