And that was the biggest surprise of all.
Chapter 8
“I told you I would come to see you.” Judith folded her hands on top of her desk and stifled the urge to scream that Alexandra usually provoked in her. “It was not necessary for you to come here.”
“Oh, but I like calling on you, sister dear.” Alexandra wandered aimlessly around Judith’s library, examining a book here, studying a painting there. “This house is a pleasant change from mine. It makes one feel so very proper. I can see why you prefer it here. Besides, I was doing you a favor.” Alexandra glanced at Judith. “You don’t like coming to Chester House.”
Judith hesitated, then sighed. “No, I don’t.”
“Even your obligatory day-before-Christmas visit is difficult for you.”
“Not at all,” Judith said lightly. “It’s your birthday and I don’t mind coming in the least.”
“It’s his birthday as well and you hate it.” Alexandra turned back to the books and perused the shelves. “It’s to be expected, I suppose. The house has dreadful memories for you.”
“It has some wonderful memories,” Judith said firmly. “But this is my home and this is where I choose to live.”
Judith had moved back to the house her parents had left her after Lucian’s death. She had wanted to deed Chester House to Alexandra when Lucian died, but his family’s solicitors had been adamant about her not doing so. It seemed the only way to save Alexandra’s legacy was not to let her have it. It had something to do with obscure, unbreakable clauses in Lucian’s father’s will. Apparently he did not think highly of his daughter’s ability to manage her own affairs, and his complicated legal maneuvers made certain she never would. The old man had left everything to Lucian with the understanding that Lucian would provide a suitable dowry for his sister when necessary. Unfortunately, he had overrated his son’s sense of financial responsibility. The elder Baron Chester had died when the twins were barely nineteen. His solicitors had forced Lucian to make a will on the occasion of his marriage, but he’d had no interest in such details and had instructed them to leave everything to his new wife. He would deal with his sister’s future at a later date. He never had. Lucian had not expected to die at the age of four-and-twenty.
Judith maintained Chester House with the fortune left to her by her husband. Her own trusted solicitors, who had served her parents well, handled the details of servants’ salaries and upkeep of the building and a continuous succession of companions for Alexandra. In addition, Alexandra received a monthly allowance, far too generous, Judith’s advisers thought. But Judith felt strongly that the Chester fortune should be used in support of the last remaining member of the Chester family. She certainly didn’t need the money; her parents had left her exceptionally well off. At least once a year, she was urged to place the house and the fortune in a trust and wash her hands of it entirely. She’d always refused. In many ways, her continued involvement was a sort of penance, and she saw it as the least she could do.
“I am thinking of moving away from Chester House,” Alexandra said idly.
“Oh?” Judith ignored the relief that washed through her at Alexandra’s comment.
“I am considering marrying Nigel Howard, and of course I shall live with him.”
Judith shook her head. “I don’t know Mr. Howard.”
“He’s a poet. Quite good really. His brilliance has yet to be recognized but it will be soon.” Alexandra paused. “Although I daresay he would rather live with me. We could be quite happy at Chester House.”
“Can Mr. Howard support a wife?”
“I wouldn’t think so but I can support him.” Alexandra shrugged. “Or you can. It scarcely matters, I suppose.”
“It matters a great deal if you are to be married,” Judith said coolly.
“Then I won’t marry him,” Alexandra snapped. “I shall simply keep him in my bed until I tire of him and then toss him away liked a well-read newspaper. Or I shall lock him out of my rooms and refuse to have anything further to do with him. Isn’t that what you do with men you no longer want?”
Judith clenched her jaw. “What do you want, Alexandra? Why are you here?”
Alexandra arched a brow. “Now, now, Judith. Mustn’t be rude to your only living relative. All we have is one another.”
“Indeed we do.” Judith drew a deep breath. “How may I be of assistance to you?”
“That’s much better.” Alexandra sailed across the room and settled in the chair closest to the desk in the fluid, graceful manner that only tall women can master but that always reminded Judith of a cat nonetheless. “I should like to resume my travels. Live for a time in Paris perhaps. I have been in London far too long and I am finding it deadly dull.”
Alexandra had spent more of the past ten years traveling Europe than she had living in En gland, for which Judith was eternally grateful. It lessened the potential for unexpected meetings like last night’s. One never knew what Alexandra might do or say at any given moment. It lessened as well the possibility that her sister-in-law would involve herself in public scandal, although, to give the other woman her due, she confined her more outrageous activities to that same artistic community that had been her brother’s world.
“What about Mr. Howard?”
“Nigel is a dear, dear man but I must admit he’s a little too dear.” Alexandra wrinkled her nose. “A little too nice, too earnest as it were. He would make an excellent husband, aside from his severe lack of funds, that is, but you and I both know I would make a horrible wife.” She traced random patterns with her fingers over the arm of the chair. “It would do Nigel a great disservice to allow him to think he was getting a wife worthy of him when in fact”—she glanced up at Judith—“he wasn’t. It might lead a man to do something horrible.”
“Then it’s best for all concerned that you not marry him.”
Alexandra studied her for a moment. “Have you ever considered that he might not be worthy of me?”
Judith chose her words carefully. She had fallen into Alexandra’s traps far too often to let her guard down now. It was always the same. Alexandra would say something that would trigger Judith’s sympathy and make Judith wonder, if only for a moment, if she’d been too harsh. If perhaps this might at last be the opportunity to become, if not sisters, cautious friends. “I think that’s possible.”
Alexandra flashed a smug grin. “You’d be wrong. He is entirely too good for me.”
Judith sighed. “I’ve been wrong before.”
“It’s a pity really.” She narrowed her gaze in a thoughtful manner. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”
Judith frowned in confusion. “I told you, I’ve never met Mr. Howard.”
“No, I meant your Lord Warton, although Nigel is as well.”
“He is not my Lord Warton.”
She snorted. “He certainly is if he accompanied you to that endless, tortuous lecture.” She considered Judith curiously. “Are you in love with him?”
“No,” Judith said quickly but apparently not quickly enough.
“I see.” Alexandra’s tone was thoughtful. “He’ll never marry you if he knows—”
“I have no intention of marrying him.”
“Perhaps he—”
“Nor does he have any intention of marrying me.”
“It’s been ten years since Lucian died.” Alexandra stared at her. “Isn’t that long enough?”
More than long enough. “Long enough for what, Alexandra?”
“I don’t know.” She blew a long breath. “But it seems a very long time.”
It struck Judith that it had been a very long time for Alexandra as well. Judith had moved on with her life but Alexandra had wandered through hers, without purpose or bearings.
Judith drew a deep breath. “I have no desire to marry again.”
“It appears to me a man like Warton would be more than sufficient to ignite such desire.”
“What do you want me to say, Alexandra?”
Abruptly, Judith had had enough. “Yes, Lord Warton is indeed sufficient to ignite desire of any sort. Yes, he is handsome, and yes, he likes me well enough to accompany me to a lecture. These are all among the reasons why I like him.”
Alexandra eyed her coolly. “Ah, but will he still like you if he learns your secret?”
“There is no secret. Now.” Judith grabbed a piece of writing paper and picked up a pen. “I will send instructions to my solicitor directing him to deposit funds into your account.” She dipped her pen in the inkwell. “I will make certain you have enough for…six months?”
“A year would be better.”
“A year it is then.” Not that that meant Alexandra would actually be away for a year. She would be back when her money was gone, probably long before the end of a year.
Judith penned the note quickly, by habit really. Lord knew she had written enough of them. She glanced up at her sister-in-law. “By the way, you should probably stop telling people you’ve just meet that you are mad.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Alexandra nodded solemnly. “I should wait until I know them better to tell them.”
Judith sighed in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant but I don’t see why. I rather like being considered mad. It’s a wonderful excuse for bad behavior.”
“Nonetheless.” Judith’s gaze met hers. “Someday someone will lock you up and then it will be up to me to come to your rescue.”
“Splendid.” Alexandra eyes narrowed. “I do live to make your life difficult, you know. It is my greatest joy.”
Alexandra hated her, and who could blame her. To Alexandra, Judith was the woman who had stolen her brother’s love, her home, her fortune, and any in dependence she might have claimed for herself. Judith might well have hated Alexandra if the situation had been reversed.
“At some point, Alexandra, you may wish to reenter the circles of polite society,” Judith said with a sharpness she couldn’t quite hide. “Madness might not be quite the asset you think it is.”
“I always thought the very best families had madness in them,” Alexandra murmured. “I should fit in nicely.”
“Do as you wish.” Judith shrugged. “Regardless of what I say or the wisdom of your actions, you will do exactly as you please anyway.”
“My will, Judith”—Alexandra’s eyes glittered in the late-afternoon light—“is the only thing in my life that remains under my control.”
Judith stared at her for a long moment. Not for the first time, she wondered if Alexandra wasn’t the most tragic figure in all of this. Certainly, Judith had lost a husband, but the strength of self that was as great a legacy from her parents as anything of a monetary nature meant she would survive. Alexandra had lost her father’s affection, if she’d ever had it, years before his death and had then lost her brother, her twin. The only person in the world whose affection she could ever truly count on. Even though in the end, he had failed her too.
“I am sorry,” Judith said and realized how very insignificant her apology was.
“Sorry? For what?” Alexandra shook her head. “Even I can see that you have had very little hand in shaping the circumstances I find myself in. The blame for that lies squarely with my father and my brother, may they both rest in peace. Perhaps not my father, but then I daresay where he is, peace is not possible.” She got to her feet and smiled pleasantly. “Nonetheless, I cannot find it in my heart to think of you with anything but hatred.” She nodded at the note Judith had written. “Shall I deliver that for you?”
“No, but I do appreciate the offer.” Judith’s smile matched Alexandra’s and was just as feigned. She rose. “If I allow you to take the note, when presented to my solicitor it will no doubt be for two years’ funding instead of one.”
Alexandra winced. “Now, now, sister, it’s not at all kind of you to think I would do such a thing.”
Judith raised a brow.
“Perceptive but not kind.”
“When do you plan on leaving?”
“Soon I think. Nigel is…” The oddest look passed over Alexandra’s face. If one didn’t know better, one would think she was concerned for someone other than herself. She shook her head as if to clear it. “Soon. I detest En gland at this time of year. And Chester House is especially grim in the winter.”
“You will let me know of your plans.”
“Most certainly. “Alexandra’s gaze met hers, and the women stared at each other awkwardly, as if each had something to say but neither quite knew what it was. It was in those rare moments like this that Judith always wondered if Alexandra regretted their relationship as much as Judith did. It was a pity really. They were both so alone in the world. She and Alexandra could have supported one another through the years. Life might be remarkably different for both of them if they had.
“Explain to me again why you think trudging through the park on a day like today is a good idea,” Norcroft said in a mild manner.
“I find myself increasingly restless these days. That, coupled with a desire to share a cordial conversation with one of my oldest friends, is why I asked you meet me in the park,” Gideon said. It was entirely true, as far as it went. “Besides, it’s a beautiful spring day.”
“In hell perhaps.” Norcroft huffed. “It’s cold, it’s damp, the sky is an ugly shade of gray, and as it’s only the beginning of March, the very word spring bespeaks of an optimism I didn’t know you had.”
“Nonetheless, I find it invigorating.”
“Since we are forced to walk at a brisk pace simply to keep from freezing, I can certainly agree with invigorating.” Norcroft paused for a moment. “Although distracting might be a better word.”
“I have no need for distractions.”
“I’ve never seen a man who looked like he needed a distraction more.” Norcroft chuckled. “I’m not sure if seeing you in this state is horrifying or carries a great deal of satisfaction.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Gideon stared straight ahead, his step didn’t falter. “And I’m not in any state.”
Norcroft snorted.
“I simply don’t know…That is to say I’m not sure…” Gideon glared at his friend. “I don’t know anything. There you have it. Are you happy?”
Norcroft stifled a grin. “Blissful.”
Gideon raised a brow. “Not horrified?”
“Oh, that too.”
“Why?” Gideon narrowed his gaze. “I can understand satisfied—”
“Because it means you are as human as the rest of us?”
“All too human apparently,” he muttered. “Why horrified?”
“Horrified is the natural reaction one has when one realizes the world as we know it has surely come to an end.” Norcroft shook his head. “Gideon Pearsall, Viscount Warton, felled by a woman.”
“I have not been felled,” Gideon snapped, although in truth he felt rather felled. “I’m simply confused, that’s all.”
Norcroft chuckled. “Generally, I’d say that’s enough.”
Gideon and Norcroft tipped their hats to two other intrepid souls hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Have you ever been in love, Norcroft?”
“Love?” Norcroft stopped in his tracks and stared. “You’re in love?”
“I didn’t say I was in love.” Gideon glanced back at Norcroft over his shoulder. “I asked if you’d ever been in love.”
Norcroft hurried to catch up. “Once or twice, I suppose. Nothing serious.”
“Then you have never been in love. Love is extraordinarily serious.”
“So,” Norcroft said idly as if neither question nor answer mattered. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Once.” Gideon shook his head. “It was a disaster.”
“Ah yes.” Norcroft nodded. “Violet Smithfield.”
Gideon stopped and looked at his friend. “You do know about Violet Smithfield then?”
“Of course.” Norcroft met the other ma
n’s gaze directly. “As do Helmsley and Cavendish. Oh, the incident of your marriage was kept exceptionally quiet, but between my mother and Helmsley and Cavendish’s large number of female relations, all of whom delight in a juicy morsel of gossip, we heard something about it.”
Gideon stared. “You, none of you, ever said a word.”
“You, my friend, never said a word.” Norcroft shrugged. “And because we are your friends, we realized you had no desire to do so, so we never have.”
Gideon studied Norcroft for a long moment. Norcroft, Helmsley, and Cavendish were indeed his closest friends. If truth were told, they were his only friends. They had shared a great deal through the years but they had never shared this. That they had never mentioned his ill-fated marriage, even while under the influence of excessive alcohol, said a great deal about that friendship. Gideon smiled in a wry manner. “It must have been difficult for Cavendish to hold his tongue.”
Norcroft grinned. “It’s always difficult for Cavendish to hold his tongue. Now”—he rubbed his gloved hands together briskly—“why don’t we finish this discussion in front of a warm fire with a brandy in hand?”
“I’d prefer to walk, it helps me to think.” Gideon grinned. “If you can bear the elements, that is.”
“I shall attempt to bravely carry on.” Norcroft sighed in a dramatic manner and they started off.
They walked for several minutes in silence. Gideon had no idea exactly what he had to say but he was tired of talking to himself. He had nothing but questions. While he doubted Norcroft had any answers, it was good to have a friend to listen to his troubles. A friend. He had known he and the others were friends but it hadn’t seemed quite as significant as it did now. It had been little more than a word. Now that he needed, well, friends, when apparently he had not needed them up to now, it became much more.
A Little Bit Wicked Page 13