Not Wicked Enough

by Carolyn Jewel

  He blanched. “You misunderstand.”

  “It was made very clear to me that your family—”

  “We Talbots are your family as well.”

  “Much to my regret. Besides Aunt Lily no Talbot has ever wanted anything to do with a Wellstone.” His last words penetrated and she gave a brittle laugh. “You say Talbots are my family, too? What family returns a child’s letters but one that wants no association with her? For I assure you, I was a child when I first wrote to our grandfather. And to your father, too. They returned my letters unread. Now you do me the favor of returning my letters to Aunt Lily. My collection is now complete. Thank you, Lord Fenris, for it’s better that I have the letters than that they stay in the hands of anyone with the name Talbot.”

  “My father admitted to me that he refused your letters.” He briefly closed his eyes. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies for that.”

  “Aunt Lily was the only one of you who wanted anything to do with me. She loved me, and I loved her. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish she were still alive.”

  “Miss Wellstone. Please.”

  She held out her hand again, shaking with anger that he felt he’d needed to see her personally to cut off relations they’d never had in the first place. “I am happy to accept the letters and see you on your way. Thank you, my lord, and good day.”

  “Cousin.”

  “I have no cousin.” She heard in her words and the manner of her saying the echo of her father. So determined to punish any slight. If anyone deserved that, was it not the Talbots?

  He stared at the letters without handing them over. So did Lily. She remembered the paper, the smell of the ink as she wrote the letters, and how deeply she’d longed to meet the woman she’d been named after. Fenris spoke softly. “You weren’t more than fourteen or fifteen when you wrote these letters.”

  “You read them?”

  “Of course I read them.” He lifted his chin, and the look in his eye reminded her of Ginny’s opinion of him. A judgmental man, and from what she could see, the very worst sort who probably believed he was justified in his lectures and moral superiority. “They were among my Aunt Lily’s effects. I found them in the house where I live.”

  She lifted her hands. “Keep them, then, if you feel you must assert ownership. Or would you feel better if I gnashed my teeth and wept bitter tears?”

  “No.”

  “For I tell you, I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

  “I wished only to tell you that it’s plain from these pages that you loved her, and that Aunt Lily had a great deal of affection for you and your mother.” He checked himself. “I suppose that’s obvious seeing as how she made you her sole heir. Heiress. Miss Wellstone. Cousin Lily. I read your letters to her and wanted to meet you and tell you I am sorry, very sorry, that my grandfather refused to acknowledge you and that my father did the same.”

  She sat on the sofa and opened her mouth to speak and found she had no words. The desire to send him away still burned hot. Why should she reconcile with any Talbot after what his family had done? She stared at her lap and struggled to compose herself. This unreasoning sense of betrayal was her father’s way, and she would not follow his example. She looked up. “That’s decent of you.”

  “I wish I’d met your mother. I wish I’d known you were corresponding with Aunt Lily before it was too late. Miss Wellstone.” He took a half step forward and stopped himself. “I am here because I do not wish the estrangement between our families to continue.”

  “You don’t?”

  “You are my relation, Miss Wellstone. Not a Talbot by name, but my cousin nevertheless. Cannot you and I make our peace?”

  “What does your father think of your visit here?”

  His mouth twisted. “That does not signify.”

  “He doesn’t know you’ve come.”

  “I’m a grown man.” He laughed. “I make my own life, and my father, I do assure you, is well aware of that. I respect his advice and opinion, but my life is my own.”

  “Ah.”

  Fenris tapped the letters on his palm. “I have given our situation a great deal of consideration. Yours and mine.”

  “My inheritance or our estrangement?”

  He colored but soon recovered. “Both, I suppose. I can see, Miss Wellstone, that you are a woman of spirit, though that has no bearing on my presence here. There’s no way I could have known before I left to find you that I would encounter such a striking, vibrant woman as you.”

  “What is your point?”

  “Naturally, your letters suggest the spirit I see in you now. I never did expect to find an ordinary woman, not after reading these.”

  “I’m not certain you mean that as a compliment, but I’ll take it as one.”

  “You should. It is not and never was my intention to slight you in any way. I did not come here merely to return the letters as some sort of insult to you.” His chagrin was honest, she felt. Miraculous, even. “I thought you might want them as a memento of the woman you loved.”

  She held out her hand. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

  “Perhaps it won’t be necessary for me to return them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are my cousin.” He went still, composing himself much as she had needed to do. “You would be welcome to read these letters as often as you like.”

  The tension in her melted away. His wish for a reconciliation was genuine, and that meant she had a cousin. “I should be glad, very glad, to know you.”

  “It is my hope, Miss Wellstone, that we will have more than an acquaintance.”

  “Oh?” She leaned against the sofa back. “How so, if your father and mine have not changed their minds? Do you propose we carry on a clandestine correspondence such as Aunt Lily and I did?” The idea amused her enough that she smiled at him, and he tipped his head. “We wrote to each other in care of a particular stationer’s. Her letters to me were always franked, but I wouldn’t expect you to do the same. That expense is now one I can bear. But to keep our secret, my lord, I could write my letters to you in lemon juice, as a precaution against them being intercepted. Your father would think someone is sending you blank papers. Imagine his confusion. You might tell him it’s a new stationer you’re thinking of patronizing and the paper is a sample.”

  Fenris blinked once then again. “There’s no need for a secret correspondence or letters written in code or lemon juice.”

  “How disappointing.”

  “Miss Wellstone.” He smiled. Barely. A Tablot smile, she thought. “Have you not foreseen the reason for my visit?”

  “No. Since you haven’t brought the baliff, I rather think I have not.”

  “I am here to make you an offer.”

  She frowned. “Of what? The letters?”

  “We can right the wrongs of the past, you and I.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  He went down on one knee. “Lily Wellstone, marry me. Become my future duchess.”

  At that point, the door opened, and Mountjoy walked in. He took one look at Fenris kneeling and his eyebrows shot to his forehead. “What the devil is this?”

  Lily didn’t answer because, for once in her life, she had no idea what to say when it must be perfectly clear what was going on.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  ON MOUNTJOY’S RETURN TO BITTERWARD, DOYLE informed him that Lord Fenris was here and that Lily was presently entertaining him in the Prussian salon. Mountjoy went directly there. Almost directly. He opened two wrong doors first.

  When he found the right room, he stopped at the threshold of the doorway, his heart hammering as if he’d returned to find his house had been robbed and he was only now understanding the scope of his losses. Lily sat on the sofa, luminously beautiful in a gown in a shade of pink that flattered her complexion. As if she would ever wear a color that did not.

  What the devil was going on, indeed.

  Mountjoy raked his fingers
through his hair in what was probably a futile attempt to make himself presentable. He wore his riding clothes, for pity’s sake, which had not yet been altered for him or sent to him new. Mud and, no doubt, unspeakable matter spattered his boots. In all likelihood there was dirt on his face. He looked disreputable and unkempt and there was nothing he could do about it.

  It was bloody obvious what was going on.

  That damned prude Fenris was on one knee. In front of Lily. Holding her hand and staring into her face with the sort of stunned awe he’d seen before from other men.

  The fool was proposing to her.

  To Lily.

  She did not look angry or horrified or even mortified. She did not look like a woman who had just refused an offer of marriage from someone she had every reason to dislike.

  Mountjoy didn’t question the panic that washed over him. Not that he hadn’t taken into account the possibility that Fenris would do this. What he hadn’t accounted for was Lily’s reaction. He’d assumed Fenris would be a pompous prick and that Lily would refuse him because she had better sense than to entertain thoughts of marriage to a man like Fenris. That assumption was a serious miscalculation on his part. If she married Fenris, whether she was in love with the man or not, she would have the family she’d always longed for. She would belong, and for her, that would be a powerful incentive to accept.

  Fenris rose and gave him a look that took in and dismissed his well-ridden in clothes. “Your grace.”

  Lily looked between him and Fenris, and he realized he had no idea if she’d just accepted a proposal of marriage from the man or whether he’d interrupted the question or the answer or both. His heart lurched.

  He did not own Lily, he told himself. They had no understanding except that she was leaving before long. What had he offered her besides physical passion? Nothing. Fenris, on the other hand, had just offered her the family connections she’d always longed for. Camber himself would come to terms with a daughter in law who brought with her a fortune he’d had to give up for lost. For that sort of fortune, even the Duke of Camber might see his way clear to recognizing her father.

  “Might Miss Wellstone and I have a few moments longer?” Lord Fenris said. One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve matters to…discuss with my cousin.” When Mountjoy didn’t move, Fenris said, “They are of a personal nature, your grace. I’m sure you understand.”

  If he knew anything about Lily it was that she knew her own mind, and this self-righteous prick was going to treat her as if she did not. As if her desires, whatever they might be, were of no consequence compared to his. He fought his urge to throw the man out on his ear. “Wellstone?”

  Lily rose slowly. She did not, as another might have done, pretend the moment wasn’t awkward. “Lord Fenris, thank you very much. You do me a very great honor. I’m deeply flattered.” She held out her hand for him to take. “And taken by surprise, as you must imagine. Though I thank you for calling on me.”

  Fenris turned his back on Mountjoy. “Have you an answer for me, cousin? Or do you need time to consider your reply?”

  Her cheeks pinked up. “No. No answer yet, my lord.”

  Not yet.

  “Is there a time when I might know my fate?”

  “Tomorrow,” Lily said. “If that’s agreeable to you.”

  “If I must wait, I shall. Thank you.” He took her hand and bowed over it. When he straightened, he put a packet into her hands. “In the meantime, keep these. Please. To remind you of my sincerity.”

  The emotion that flooded her face brought a lump to Mountjoy’s throat. “Thank you.” She took Fenris’s hand in hers and pressed it. “Thank you very much.”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  “At two o’clock, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly.” He brought Lily’s hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. As he walked past Mountjoy, they traded looks. Mountjoy waited until Fenris was past him before he said, “Perhaps you and I ought to have a word. My lord.”

  Mountjoy turned to find Fenris had done the same. They now faced each other. “You’re not her father, Mountjoy.”

  “No, but she is an unmarried woman staying in my house. I am responsible for her while she is here.”

  Lily cleared her throat, but they both ignored her.

  “Your concern for my cousin does you credit. Thank you.” Fenris looked past him to Lily. “Tomorrow at two, Miss Wellstone.”

  “Not a moment sooner.”

  With that, Mountjoy was alone with Lily. “Would you rather I leave?” he asked. He closed his eyes. Of all people, Fenris was in a position to know just how wealthy Lily was. It made sense to bring that money back into the control of his family. Fenris would know that a man in his position married for reasons of dynasty and that he would please his father beyond words if he were to bring back Lily’s fortune. Marrying Lily was a far cheaper solution than laywers.

  Would she agree?

  She shook her head and sat on the sofa. She placed the packet Fenris had given her on the table beside the sofa. “I confess, Mountjoy, I am at a loss just now. And I am rarely at a loss.”

  He stayed where he was, just past the door. She had not given Fenris an answer yet. Not yet. But tomorrow?

  She looked at him, and for once she did not seem impossibly confident of herself. She clasped her hands on her lap. “I thought he’d come here to tell me they’d found another will and that I must leave Syton House and give back everything.” She gazed at him. “All this time I’ve been imagining the awful things he must be plotting against me. His offer was completely unexpected.”

  He checked the hall to be sure Fenris had really gone. “He will be a duke one day. His title is an old one.”

  “Oh that. Yes, I suppose so. But he is my cousin, Mountjoy. I’ve never had a cousin before.” She twined her fingers on her lap. “And he wishes to know me. After all this time, he wants a connection between us.”

  It killed him, but he said, “Commendable of him.”

  She fixed wide eyes on him. “My father would never forgive me.”

  “Does it matter if you add one more item to his list of your unforgiven sins?”

  “Oh, Mountjoy, you do make me laugh.” She smiled. “When you put it like that, perhaps it doesn’t.”

  “Don’t let your father ruin this for you, Wellstone. You mustn’t.”

  “But what of your sister?” Her amusement slowly faded. “Ginny will never forgive me.”

  “She will,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t forgive a thing like that. My dearest friend marrying the man who tried to prevent my marriage?”

  He took a breath. “Eugenia will understand.”

  “If she doesn’t? I couldn’t bear to lose her friendship. I couldn’t.”

  Her despair broke his heart. “Come.” He held out his hand. “We’ll walk in the garden and talk. Or say nothing, if you prefer. Or speak of everything that is inconsequential.”

  She walked to him and put her hand in his. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Mountjoy.”

  Not ten minutes later, they were walking side by side in the rear garden. She’d fetched a cloak and had that around her shoulders. In silent accord, they headed past the formal grounds. He held the gate for her, and they walked a path that led to the lake, the bottom of which he now knew contained a good number of Roman coins. There was a bridge at the narrowest part of the water, and they followed the gravel path that wended that direction.

  “I don’t know what to do, Mountjoy,” she said when they’d exhausted subjects such as the weather and whether they preferred lemon tarts to sweet puddings. “I’ve half a mind to sneak home in the dark of night.”

  “Impossible. You are engaged to be here another eight days.”

  “Stop making me laugh when I feel so miserable.”

  He tucked her arm under his. “Listen to me, Wellstone, because I ask this in all seriousness. Is marrying Fenris the condition of this connection he is so suddenly
pursuing?”

  They walked several feet before she answered. “No. I don’t think so.” She looked away. “I don’t know. He might have meant that.” She stopped walking. “I am aware that I am in possession of some very valuable properties and a fortune the present Duke of Camber believes should have gone to anyone but me. So don’t imagine I do not understand my cousin’s financial incentives. He wouldn’t be the first to have them.”