The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor)

by Alexander, Victoria

  “You have no idea what you have agreed to, do you?”

  “Of course I do. I just said—”

  “The exact wording of your agreement, an agreement upon which you gave your word, as was witnessed by the rest of us, was that she would receive a substantial bonus if the ball could be held at Fairborough.”

  “And?”

  “And, it seems to me, and probably to her as well, that the ball can indeed be held at Fairborough without construction being completed.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Win scoffed. “Completion was implied. Part and parcel of the agreement.”

  “And yet as it was not stated . . .” Gray shrugged.

  Win stared at his cousin. “You’re telling me if the ball is held in an unfinished ballroom, or even on the front lawns, then she has earned her bonus?”

  “I would think so,” Gray said in a mild tone as if his cousin hadn’t just thrown away a significant amount of money. “I would wager she thinks so as well.”

  “Bloody hell.” Win blew a long breath. “I didn’t see that.”

  “No, you were too busy doing battle with the fair Lady Garret.” He paused. “Who, I might add, was looking exceptionally fair tonight.”

  “She always looks exceptionally fair,” Win said absently. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? Of course, he hadn’t realized that his words would be taken seriously. He’d had no idea she wasn’t playing the same game he was. Now that he knew the truth of it, her comments carried a bit more sting than they had initially. He had thought they were becoming at the very least friends. Was it at all possible that she really didn’t like him? That she thought his ill-fated engagements were an indication of his lack of honor? That he was not a man of his word?

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  Was there a chance that the odd sensations that had swept through him when he had gazed into her eyes tonight, feelings of inevitability and completion and, yes, even fate had not been shared? Feelings that were at once terrifying and yet hopeful and exuberant. Regardless, it was entirely too soon to place credence in such moments. Why, it could have been nothing more than an aberration. He barely knew the woman after all. If he had learned nothing else in regard to women, he had learned restraint.

  “I said, what are you going to do now?”

  Besides, in spite of what she had said about not being opposed to remarrying, was she indeed ready to give up ties to her late husband? She was, after all, engaged in keeping his company solvent. It was not unreasonable to think that was one way of keeping him or the memory of him alive. He wasn’t sure he could compete with a dead man. Not that he intended to.

  “Win?”

  Win’s gaze snapped to his cousin’s. “What?”

  “I asked what you were going to do now.” Gray’s eyes narrowed. “Although it was apparent you were paying no attention whatsoever.”

  “I was distracted.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I don’t know what I am going to do now.” Win shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t mind the extra costs of construction if it speeds the work along. I don’t even mind paying her the bonus. But . . . she’s done it again, you know. Manipulated me to suit her own purposes.”

  “She manipulated you?” Gray’s brow rose. “That wasn’t my observation.”

  “She’s very clever about it.” He shuddered. “She’s very clever about everything. She may well be the cleverest woman I have ever met.”

  “Apparently.” Gray studied him closely. “You don’t seem very upset about it.”

  “I’m getting used to it,” he said under his breath. And it really was his own fault. Maybe she did have him befuddled after all. His life had certainly become much more complicated and confusing since the moment her sturdily clod feet had walked into it.

  “You are preoccupied tonight, cousin.”

  “Am I?”

  “You’ve barely noticed that I am about to claim victory.”

  “Are you, indeed?” He glanced at the table. “Apparently you are.”

  Gray shook his head in disbelief, put his cue in the rack on the wall and picked up his half-empty glass of brandy. “Well?” He sat down on the well-worn leather sofa positioned so as to enable the watching of a game or simply idle conversation. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “Tonight? Everything? The look you and Miranda exchanged before dinner? The fact that the two of you can scarcely go ten minutes without sparks of some sort flying between you? The deal you struck with her?”

  “I don’t know what happened.” Win shook his head. “I am usually not that—”

  “Stupid?”

  “For lack of a better word, yes.”

  “Then what were you?”

  “It’s going to sound, well . . .” He winced. “Stupid.”

  “All the better.” Gray nodded. “Go on then.”

  “It seemed the best way to convince the rest of you that there was nothing between Miranda and myself . . .” Without thinking, he paced the length of the table. “Which there isn’t, of course.”

  “Of course not.”

  “In spite of that . . . that moment.”

  “The one in which neither of you seemed to notice the rest of us were present?”

  Win nodded. “That’s the one. In order to prove that it meant nothing—”

  “Which you wished to do because?”

  “Because, for one thing, you know how Mother is when she suspects there is the possibility of an appropriate match so much as passing by.” He grimaced. “I wouldn’t want to wish Mother’s determination on anyone, let alone Miranda.”

  Gray nodded. “Go on.”

  “It simply seemed like a good idea to allow free rein to our natural tendencies to clash. And, in doing so, show all of you there is certainly no possibility of anything between Miranda and myself.”

  “I see.” Gray sipped his brandy thoughtfully. “You do know it didn’t work.”

  “It didn’t?”

  “Absolutely not.” He paused. “If anything it convinced us all there was something extremely interesting occurring between the two of you.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  Gray leaned forward. “What’s absurd is the fact that after choosing the wrong woman three times, you are unable to see when the right one comes along.”

  Win stared. “Miranda Garret is absolutely not the right one. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

  “Why?”

  “For one thing, she doesn’t like me. She certainly doesn’t trust me. She thinks I am hopelessly behind the times. She disagrees with me about what women should and should not do. And I suspect she is not entirely over the death of her late husband.”

  “And yet she has changed her manner of dress and the way she wears her hair. It seems to me that is indicative of a woman who is moving on with her life.”

  “I daresay you’re—”

  “As well as being an indication of a woman who wants a man to notice her.”

  “I have noticed her,” he snapped. “I have noticed any number of things about her. Most of them extremely annoying.”

  “But not all?”

  “Of course not all.” He’d noticed that a dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth when she smiled. And he’d noticed the delightful sound of her laughter. And he’d noticed the way she seemed to smell vaguely of the promise of spring and how the color of her eyes changed with her mood.

  “It seems to me,” Gray said slowly, “that Miranda has presented you with quite a challenge.”

  Win narrowed his eyes. “A challenge?”

  “You have always enjoyed a good challenge.”

  “What do you mean by a challenge? What kind of challenge?”

  “Why, winning the heart and hand of the fair Lady Garret.”

  Win stared. “I don’t want her hand or her heart.” He shook his head. “She has already pointe
d out that she and I would not suit one another.”

  “And therein lies the challenge.” Gray shrugged. “Change her mind.”

  “I don’t want to change her mind. I have no interest in Miranda Garret, nor does she have the tiniest bit of interest in me.”

  “Very well.”

  “Very well what?”

  “It’s no business of mine.”

  “No, it isn’t”

  “I’ll be off to America in a few weeks anyway.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “For the best, really. Although I was looking forward to watching your demise at the hands of yet another female.”

  “There will be no demise.”

  Gray cast him a look of what could only be called pity.

  “There won’t.” He huffed. “I assure you there is nothing between Miranda and myself, nor is there the slightest possibility that will change.”

  “Very well.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “As you wish.” Gray bit back a smile and sipped his brandy.

  “I do wish,” he snapped.

  Admittedly though, Gray might well have a valid point. Even if Win was confused and befuddled, his cousin was not. And if Gray saw something that Win didn’t, wouldn’t it be wiser to find that out rather than miss it entirely? This was the rest of his life after all. If he had learned nothing else from being engaged to the wrong woman three times it was caution. There was no need to rush into anything. Although, it was entirely possible that he was too worried about making yet another mistake to be able to recognize the right woman when she came along. Nonetheless, didn’t he owe it to himself to find out?

  The worst part was while she might possibly be the right woman for him, not merely every man’s dream but his, it was more than obvious he was not the right man for her.

  “Lord Stillwell—Winfield.” Miranda paused on the top step of the short flight leading to the drive. Winfield stood beside two saddled horses, their reins held by a groom. She couldn’t help but notice how dashing and handsome he looked in his riding clothes. She could certainly see what all those other women saw in him. Not that she cared. Even if he had invaded her dreams last night in a most improper and all too exciting manner. But she certainly couldn’t help what happened in her sleep. “I didn’t expect to see you so early.”

  “I was told you intended to ride to Fairborough today and I thought I would accompany you.” He smiled in a pleasant manner. Given the way they had left things between them last night, she wasn’t sure she trusted that smile.

  “I am more than capable of getting to the hall by myself.”

  “I have no doubt of that, Miranda, as long as you stay to the road. However, there is a shorter way through the fields that trims a good ten minutes off the time. It’s much more . . . efficient.”

  “Oh well, as long as it’s efficient.” She wasn’t at all sure why his reference to efficiency annoyed her and yet it did. She allowed him to help her into the saddle, ignoring the unwelcome sensation of the warmth of his hands.

  He mounted his own horse and they started off. Within a few minutes she was glad she had decided to ride rather than take a carriage. Riding beside one another negated the necessity for conversation. But sitting together in a carriage they’d be forced to speak to one another or endure long stretches of awkward silence. Admittedly, she did rather enjoy conversing with him, aside from that irritating tendency she had to say whatever crossed her mind. She did need to do something about that.

  “Do you think it can be done?” he said at last.

  “Do I think what can be done?”

  He slanted her a skeptical look, as if he knew that she knew precisely what he meant. “Can Fairborough be completed by the ball?”

  “I believe I have made myself clear on that question,” she said in a cool tone.

  “Then the answer is no?”

  “The answer has always been no.”

  “And yet you do intend to take my bonus despite the fact that completion of Fairborough was implied?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “You are going to claim victory because of an error in semantics?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “In spite of the fact that I thought we were just putting on an act for the others?”

  “In spite of that, yes.” She nodded. “Or perhaps because you didn’t make certain that I understood what you were doing.”

  “Well, then it is my fault entirely.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “And I should be made to pay for my mistakes.”

  “And you shall.”

  He sighed. “It does seem a high price to pay.”

  “You can afford it.”

  “Thank God.” He paused. “You know, for a woman I am not engaged to, you certainly are expensive.”

  She choked back a laugh. “Have all your fiancées been expensive?”

  “Only one, really. Women do not tend to return expensive baubles when an engagement has ended.” He shrugged. “The first had very expensive tastes.”

  Mrs. Hedges-Smythe, of course. Not the least bit surprising. She had the look of a woman with expensive tastes. “And the rest?”

  “The second was really quite sensible and rational.” He chuckled. “As it turned out, she considered me entirely too amusing for her.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “I wish I was.”

  She reined in her horse and stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid I am.”

  “And the third?”

  “I thought we had agreed not to discuss my engagements or your marriage.”

  “Yes, I suppose we did.” She thought for a moment. “It doesn’t seem at all fair that I have asked about your engagements when we agreed not to discuss them. Even though you brought up the subject.”

  “Then I deserve what I get,” he said in a somber manner that didn’t seem the tiniest bit genuine.

  “Indeed you do; however, to be fair, as I asked you three questions about your engagements you may ask me three about my marriage.”

  “I believe you asked four questions.”

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged. “But I only recall three and as I didn’t need to offer you any at all it’s three questions or nothing.”

  “Three it is then.” He nudged his horse and started off.

  She pulled her horse up alongside his. “Well?”

  “Well, I’m thinking.” He glanced at her. “I only get three questions and I don’t want to waste any of them.”

  “Goodness, it’s not as if they were wishes, you know,” she said under her breath.

  He smiled in an annoyingly knowing manner. “No, but they might be much more valuable.”

  “I doubt that.” She shrugged. “You may ask anything you like.”

  His brow rose.

  “Within reason,” she said quickly.

  “Very well then.”

  They rode on in silence for a few more minutes. “Surely there is something you want to know?”

  “Oh, there are any number of things that have piqued my curiosity.”

  “This is your opportunity.”

  “I am aware of that.” He thought for a moment. “Where did your husband kiss you for the first time?”

  “The Egyptian Saloon at the British Museum,” she said promptly. “It was nearly closing and there was no one else around.”

  “Not the Elgin Saloon?” He glanced at her curiously.

  “John was not as interested in Greek antiquity as I was,” she said in an offhand manner as if it didn’t matter. And at the time, it hadn’t. Now, however, she was surprised to realize, it might. “He preferred the relics of the ancient Egyptians.”

  “Therefore, that is what you saw when you accompanied him to the museum.”

  “It’s not all we saw.” Although in hindsight it did seem that way. They did tend to see what held John’s interest rather than hers. She wondered why she’d nev
er thought of that before.

  “I see.”

  What, exactly, did he see? Or think he saw? “Your next question?”

  “I shall save that for another time.” He slid off his horse and she realized they had arrived.

  “I may not be willing to answer another time.” She looked down at him. He reached up to help her dismount and for a moment she was in his arms. Then he quite properly stepped back.

  “That’s a chance I shall have to take then.” He smiled. “I shall return to collect you for afternoon tea. I assume you’ll be done for the day by then.”

  “I would think so, but there’s no need for you to have to come all this way. No doubt I can find my way back without any problem.”

  “Nonetheless, my mother would never forgive me if anything happened to you. Nor would I forgive myself.”

  “I understand, but—”

  “Miranda.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I could certainly ask that you allow Mr. Clarke to see you back to the manor every time you are here and I have no doubt that you would accede to my request until the day it became inconvenient for you or him.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she said in a weak voice, knowing full well he was right.

  “You know neither the roads nor the countryside, nor are you familiar with whatever mount you might be given. Therefore, I shall escort you here every day and back to the manor every night. And this . . .” His gaze met hers directly. “Is not subject to negotiation.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, he really did make perfect sense.

  She favored him with a bright smile. “As you wish.”

  He studied her suspiciously for a long moment. “You do realize you’re frightening when you’re agreeable.”

  She laughed. “Then I shall have to be agreeable more often.”

  “I’m not sure I could bear up under that.”

  “Surely you’re stronger than you think.”

  “I would have to be.”

  They exchanged a few more comments; then he remounted his horse and started back toward Millworth. She watched him for a moment, admiring how he sat in the saddle and the ease with which he controlled the animal. She wondered what else he might ask about her marriage and why he wanted to know. She had nothing to hide on that score. How very interesting that his first question had been where she first kissed John.