CAD'S WISH

by Cheryl Holt

  “How is your brother? Is he watching over you for me?”

  “Yes, he’s been a veritable guard dog on your behalf.”

  “How about Winston and Amelia? They haven’t been bothering you, have they?”

  “No. I never hear from them unless there’s an emergency at the estate, and there are very few of those.”

  “I’m still at your service,” he said. “If you ever need my assistance, be sure to summon me.”

  “I won’t forget, but I can’t imagine why I’d ever need you.”

  “You never know what might happen.”

  They should have departed, but they were frozen in place, the perfect moment stretching to infinity. One of them ought to have offered a profound comment, but she didn’t think it should be her. What could she say anyway?

  I rejected your proposal of marriage, but could we reconsider?

  Hunter Stone was very proud, and she didn’t suppose he gave second chances.

  “I’m delighted to have bumped into you,” he finally said. “I hadn’t thought I ever would.”

  “I’m glad I bumped into you too.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “I always do.”

  “Liar.” He laughed, his expression warm and fond. “You are a complete incompetent who is constantly balanced on the edge of calamity.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  He drew away and walked to the verandah. He climbed the stairs to the door. At the last instant, he glanced back and waved, then he disappeared.

  She remained where she was, the sparks settling. Then she continued to delay, anxious to be certain he was ensconced in a parlor and out of sight. If she ran into him, it would be too awkward.

  Once she’d tamped down her raucous emotions, she walked to the verandah too, and she tiptoed through the house and directly out the front door. She’d have to trek for a bit until she reached an area where she could summon a hansom cab to convey her to her shop, but the lengthy stroll would be invigorating. It would furnish her with an opportunity to reflect.

  She was a tad discombobulated—and sad too—from chatting with Hunter, but she would arrive home with a smile on her face, remembering that she was lucky and her life was very grand indeed.

  ****

  “Who were you talking to in the garden? I didn’t recognize her.”

  Isabella posed the question casually, as if she wasn’t concerned about the petite beauty with whom Hunter had been flirting. But when he revealed the woman’s identity, she felt as if she’d been poked with a pin.

  “It was Hannah Graves.”

  “Hannah Graves, your almost fiancée?”

  “The very one.”

  Hunter’s reply was flippant and blasé, as if Miss Graves’s presence was irrelevant. He ignored Isabella and pulled up a chair at the table where his father and the other players were eager to begin their game.

  Neville had heard his remark, and he said, “Miss Graves is here? Go fetch her, Hunter. I should sneak a peek at this paragon who’s enticed you.”

  “I wasn’t enticed,” Hunter scathingly retorted, “and I won’t inflict you on her. She believes I’m charming, and I won’t dim her opinion by introducing her to any of my relatives.”

  “She’d like me more than she likes you.” Neville’s comment made his friends chortle and guffaw.

  Isabella meandered around the table, filling glasses with liquor. When she grabbed for Hunter’s, she said, “What did she want?”

  “She wasn’t here to see me. Sybil has started a society for industrious females. They were having a meeting.”

  “How is she industrious?” Neville asked.

  “I told you: She owns a shop. She sells books.”

  Neville was aghast at the notion. “To customers?”

  “No, to fish,” Hunter snidely said. “Of course to customers.”

  “Is she successful?” Neville inquired.

  “She’s a female,” Hunter said, “so I’m betting not.”

  “What is the name of her fine establishment?” Neville asked Hunter, and Isabella could have hugged him. She’d been desperate to ask that very question, but she didn’t dare seem too curious.

  “It’s called The First Page.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Neville said, but one of his friends piped in with, “I’ve purchased books there. It’s a cozy little place.”

  Isabella eased away and set the decanter on the sideboard. Several of the men had brought their mistresses, and they were scattered on sofas. Isabella knew all of them, and normally, she’d have sat down and chatted, but she slipped out of the room and snuck to the verandah, being anxious to get another look at Miss Graves.

  Hunter’s fondness for the bloody girl had been so blatant that Isabella had clearly sensed it. She’d never seen him gaze at a woman as he’d been gazing at Miss Graves. He’d definitely never stared at Isabella like that, and suddenly, she was fretting about her future in a way she hadn’t previously.

  Hunter had affairs and one-night romps. He had a roving eye and was always captivated by a pretty face, but they were innocuous encounters that weren’t important.

  Isabella, in her role as his paramour, had to pretend she wasn’t disturbed by his licentious habits and philandering, but evidently, Miss Graves was a different matter entirely.

  He’d claimed he would remain a bachelor, but for reasons she couldn’t clarify, she viewed Hannah Graves as a serious threat to her happiness.

  If Hunter changed his mind about matrimony and bound himself to the accursed ninny, Isabella expected that his affection for her would evaporate. Where would that leave her? Nowhere she wanted to be, that was for sure.

  Though Isabella searched thoroughly, Miss Graves had vanished, the garden empty, and she went back to the parlor. She slid onto a sofa, with no one noticing she’d left. She feigned great interest in the wagers and conversation, but in reality, she was brimming with plans and schemes.

  She and Miss Graves needed to have a long, frank talk, and it needed to happen sooner rather than later. Miss Graves had to go away—and stay away—and Isabella had to make her realize that it was the only available choice.

  She had a nasty manner of dealing with Hunter’s trollops, and she was very possessive. She’d chased off all sorts of slatterns who’d imagined they could glom onto him, but Isabella was standing by his side, and she wouldn’t relinquish her spot to anyone.

  Especially not Miss Hannah Graves—as she was about to learn in no uncertain terms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hannah was rearranging a shelf of books when the bell dinged over the door to indicate a customer had entered. She was alone. Her clerk was running errands, and Jackson was…

  Well, Jackson was wherever he went in the day. They had frequent discussions about how it made her worry, but he was too accustomed to being on his own. Some rules were difficult for him to follow.

  She wished the customer would be Hunter Stone, but she couldn’t picture him rushing to visit her so soon after they’d chatted. She pasted on a smile and headed to the front to greet whoever had arrived, but when she saw who it was, she staggered to a halt.

  It was the glamorous woman who’d called to Hunter from up on Miss Jones’s verandah. She’d advised Hunter that the card game was starting, and the other players were waiting for him. Now, here she was—the very next afternoon—in Hannah’s shop.

  She was wearing another fabulous gown, green this time. It was cut low in the bodice, and it had black piping on the shoulders, cuffs, and sleeves. The color was augmented by a black fan, black parasol, and black lace shawl.

  Her hair was intricately styled, with curls and braids, but much of it was covered by an elaborate bonnet. She was statuesque, but with the bonnet on, she appeared even taller. She loomed over Hannah, so Hannah felt tiny and in need of a stout defender.

  “May I help you?” Hannah was determined to pretend she didn’t recollect the woman, but to no avail.

  “Y
ou remember me, Miss Graves. Don’t act as if we’re strangers.”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “I’m Miss Isabella Darling.”

  “Hello, Miss Darling.”

  The woman paused, bristling, as if the name was supposed to mean something. When Hannah showed no reaction, Miss Darling said, “I am Hunter’s mistress.”

  Hannah was surprised she was able to maintain a bland expression. She’d known Hunter consorted with slatterns, but she’d never imagined she might come face to face with one of them. It had suddenly become the most risqué moment of her rather tedious life.

  “If that’s even remotely true,” Hannah said, “then you are a doxy, while I am a respectable gentlewoman. I shouldn’t have to be polite, and I’m very busy this morning. If you’ll excuse me?”

  She stomped over to the door and yanked it open, gesturing outside, so Miss Darling wouldn’t be confused about what Hannah wanted. But the trollop didn’t oblige her and slink out.

  She surveyed her surroundings and sneered with derision, apprising Hannah that she wasn’t impressed. If Hannah had admired her at all, the scorn might have hurt her feelings, but she wasn’t acquainted with Miss Darling, and there was no reason to admire her. Her mockery floated away like a cloud in the wind.

  “Hunter told me about this pathetic little enterprise,” Miss Darling said. “He’s vastly amused that you’re engaged in commerce, and he’s certain you’ll fail at it.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard his opinion, and I have an opinion to match it. I think he’s a pompous idiot. Will that be all?”

  Miss Darling smirked. “You don’t think that about him. I watched you talking to him, and it’s obvious you’re besotted.”

  “If that’s what you deduced from it, then you are a tad deranged.”

  Miss Darling wandered over to a shelf, and she studied the books. Hannah was positive she wasn’t really reading them. She was simply stalling, working hard to rattle Hannah, and she was succeeding.

  “He traveled to the country to betroth himself to your sister,” Miss Darling said.

  “I’m aware of that fact.”

  “He mistakenly assumed you were the bride who had been offered.”

  “I was there for the whole embarrassing episode, so yes, I’m aware of that too.”

  “The debacle was so horrid that he’s decided he won’t marry. He ordered his father to forget about a future betrothal. He won’t allow one.”

  “He’s not serious,” Hannah said. “He has a title to protect, and there are plenty of debutantes who would love to snag him.”

  “I don’t care about any debutantes. I care about you, Miss Graves. It’s clear to me that you hope he’ll ultimately wed you.”

  Hannah’s cheeks heated. She’d been wondering if it could still occur, but it was a pipedream. Hunter had proposed, and she’d declined. What else was there to say about it?

  “I don’t ever wish to wed,” she firmly stated. “In my view, men are fools and wastrels. I would never let a man boss me or spend my money. I’m contrary that way.”

  Miss Darling assessed Hannah with what was probably pity. “I can understand your fondness for Hunter. He’s rich, handsome, and generous.” Miss Darling waved a hand over her stunning outfit. “He’s definitely been generous with me, so I’m not here to judge you. I completely comprehend your interest.”

  “I have no idea how to counter your misconception, but I shouldn’t have to counter it. You need to depart.”

  The annoying shrew still didn’t comply. She glared with exasperation, as if Hannah wasn’t behaving as she’d planned.

  “I’ve been with Hunter for years,” Miss Darling said, “and he’s very devoted to me.”

  “Well, good for you.”

  “I’ve learned his faults and habits, and I thought you should learn about some of them too. It’s thrilling for a girl like you to consider marriage to a man like him, but I can guarantee that it wouldn’t turn out as you’re expecting.”

  Hannah sighed. “I won’t discuss him with you, and I won’t listen to you disparaging him. You are presuming on my cordial nature.”

  “I’m not disparaging him. I’m simply telling you a few truths. Have you met his father?” Miss Darling clucked her tongue. “No, I don’t think you have.”

  “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

  “The male members of the Stone family are renowned for their debauchery. His father is the worst of the lot, and his sons take after him. There is no antic they won’t pursue, no sin they won’t commit, and no female they won’t seduce.”

  “That’s enough, Miss Darling! It appears that I’ve stoked a jealousy in you, but it’s silly for you to fret about me, and you needn’t warn me away. You can have him—with my blessing. I would never attach myself to someone so depraved.”

  “Liar. If he proposed, I’m convinced you would leap at the chance.”

  “I can’t persuade you of my intentions, so I will quit trying.”

  “I’m determined that you should recognize the sort of scoundrel he is. I’m sure you don’t fully grasp the situation.”

  “You’re wrong. He was very blunt in informing me he was awful.”

  “He would have laughed and insisted he couldn’t help himself, that he’s always been wicked. It’s one of his methods of flirtation.”

  Hannah gnawed on her cheek, remembering how Hunter’s eyes gleamed with mischief when he bragged about his faults. If it had been a ruse to charm her, it had succeeded. She’d decided he was wonderful—despite his self-deprecation.

  “Fine, Miss Darling,” she said. “He’s just as bad as he claims, and apparently, you have a point to make. Would you get to it? This entire conversation is very distasteful, and I’d like it to conclude as rapidly as we can manage.”

  “I’d be delighted to hurry this along. Hunter is easily bored. He always has a mistress, but this very moment, he’s hunting for a second one. One paramour is not enough for him.”

  “Miss Darling! Please! Have mercy on me!”

  “He likes me because I tolerate his proclivities, but even so, he likes variety. Every so often, he takes up with a second girl, usually one who is much younger and much more naïve than me. He likes the virginal aspect of it.”

  “That’s it! You may leave or I will leave, and you can dawdle in here by yourself. What’s it to be?”

  “I’m almost finished.” Miss Darling grinned like the cat that had eaten the canary. “If you agree to be his bride, he will keep on with me and continue with his search for a backup mistress. He’s been holding interviews to find the perfect candidate.”

  “He interviews them?” Hannah said, before she could bite down the question.

  “Yes, and there is a slew of naughty tarts who’ve applied for the position. Could you put up with a husband like that? I realize a wife is supposed to look the other way, but you don’t seem the type who would.”

  Hannah was embarrassed and disgusted, and for some reason, she was about to burst into tears. “I’ve heard you loud and clear, ma’am. Viscount Marston is a wretch and a libertine. He’s much more horrid than I ever imagined. I believe you. Now go away!”

  But Miss Darling wouldn’t shut up. “As for myself, I revel in that kind of corrupt behavior. My world is in the demimonde where he thrives, and if he wants to dabble with other slatterns, it doesn’t bother me. He returns to me once he grows weary of the chase, and I eagerly welcome him back.”

  Evidently, Miss Darling expected a histrionic response, but Hannah was very calm. “I’m not interested in Viscount Marston. How many times must I repeat myself?”

  Miss Darling sauntered over, and she towered over Hannah.

  “If Hunter comes sniffing around,” Miss Darling said, “you’d better remember what I’ve told you. You are not to encourage him.”

  “I have no plans to encourage him. I swear. Are we done?”

  Miss Darling snorted. “I guess we are. I can’t have you in my life, Miss Grav
es. It’s annoying to me, so you must stay away.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  To Hannah’s great relief, Jackson strolled in the door. It was still open from when Hannah had tried to shoo Miss Darling out of it. He was such an astute person, and he instantly catalogued the odd scene: two women standing much too close together, their postures angry, the taller one appearing quite threatening.

  “Is this a new customer?” he asked Hannah, and he blocked her from Miss Darling’s view in a protective manner.

  Hannah was always amazed by how much power a male wielded in comparison to a female. He was a boy who hadn’t yet shot up in height, but he had their father’s ability to exert command and control. Miss Darling immediately stepped away from Hannah.

  “This is Isabella Darling,” Hannah furiously apprised him. “She is Viscount Marston’s mistress, which neither you nor I should have had to learn, but she’s inflicted herself on me, so now, we’re both aware of her sordid reputation.”

  Jackson bristled and glared at Miss Darling. “Miss Graves shouldn’t have to be insulted by your base presence. May I escort you out to your carriage?”

  The impertinent rascal flashed such a vitriolic glower that Miss Darling was cowed by it. She shook her fancy bonnet, straightened her shoulders, and marched out. Jackson shut the door behind her and spun the key in the lock.

  They tiptoed to the window and peeked out the curtain, observing as the nasty shrew climbed into her coach. It was a grand vehicle, pulled by four white horses, providing further proof that Hunter spent extravagantly to keep her in lavish style.

  The realization was repulsive and disturbing. Hannah liked Hunter Stone so much, and obviously, she’d imbued him with character traits he didn’t possess. How dare Miss Darling strut into Hannah’s shop! What gall!

  Once the vehicle rolled away, she staggered over to a chair and eased down. She stared up at Jackson and blew out a heavy breath.

  “You always show up at just the right time,” she said.

  “I have a second sense about you. I can tell when you’re about to get yourself in trouble.”

  “It wasn’t me getting myself into any trouble. The offensive vixen simply waltzed in, bold as brass.”