Still Wicked

by Ayers, Kathleen

  “I haven’t any trunks, Bevins.” She smiled up at him.

  Another raising of the butler’s brows. “Of course, my lady,” he said as if it were of no import she should arrive out of the blue with a stranger and no trunks. God bless Bevins. “Lord Cambourne is in the study with His Grace.” Bevins shut the door, and proceeded to shuffle down the foyer, his pace that of a snail.

  Kelso made a sound of annoyance at the butler’s speed.

  “It’s all right, Bevins,” Elizabeth assured him. “No need to show me. I recall the way very well.”

  Bevins nodded, still smiling. “May I say, Lady Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to have you back with us.”

  “You may. I am happy to see you as well, Bevins.”

  “I’ll have tea brought to Lord Cambourne’s study.” He gave Kelso a suspicious look.

  “Thank you, Bevins.” Elizabeth wrenched her hand from her husband’s and took off down the hall. Memories leapt out at her from every corner. Her mother. Papa. Miranda.

  Kelso caught up with her quickly enough and took her elbow. “Wait, Elizabeth. We should go in together.”

  He seemed very determined to accompany her and she was just as determined he should not. “You have fulfilled your obligation to me. I find,” she took a deep breath, “I am exhausted from all that has happened. I don’t wish to argue with you anymore. Please, feel free to depart.”

  “Little nun.” Kelso pulled her sharply against him. His breath tickled the fine hairs at her temple as the heat of his body seeped into hers.

  The change in his mood from earlier confused her. “Novice,” she whispered as her body naturally swayed, drawn into his orbit.

  The door to her brother’s study opened. “Good Lord.” The Duke of Dunbar regarded them in confusion. His mismatched eyes took note of the closeness of their bodies and Kelso’s hand clutching hers.

  “What is it?” Her brother’s voice sounded from the study. “Did Bevins finally collapse under the weight of a tea tray? He refuses to retire. Alex promised she would speak to him.”

  “No, not today. Oddly enough, it seems I’ve found Elizabeth.”

  Kelso dropped her hands to face his cousin. “Hello, Your Grace.”

  “What?” Sutton appeared behind Nick, the relief in his handsome face so profound, Elizabeth thought he might weep.

  “Elizabeth?” He approached her and gently took her hands. “Elizabeth,” he said again before enfolding her, albeit cautiously, in his arms.

  Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time Sutton had embraced her. He did so now as if she were a small precious child, holding her tightly to his heart. When he’d last visited St. Albans, she hadn’t wanted to be held and Sutton hadn’t pushed her, knowing of her anxiety.

  I’ve missed my brother.

  Sutton smelled marvelous, like cinnamon and exotic spice. His ebony hair, worn far too long, swung about his shoulders as a great sigh of happiness left him. The small jade baby hanging from his ear bumped her temple.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the surprise in his tall form.

  “I’ve been beside myself with worry,” he said against her hair. “I’ve a small army looking for you. McMannish arrived yesterday with a message from Mother Hildegard. You disappeared from St. Albans.” His face was anguished. “Are you all right?” His hands ran down her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, Sutton. I’m fine,” she assured him.

  “I thought you had left because I didn’t want—if you truly wish to become a nun, Elizabeth, I won’t stand in your way.”

  “She doesn’t,” Kelso said, drawing her brother’s attention. “Want to be a nun, that is.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Sutton asked in confusion, finally noticing Kelso’s presence.

  “Her husband,” Kelso replied blandly.

  “I told you I wished to explain things.” Elizabeth reluctantly left her brother’s embrace.

  “Did you?” Kelso leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t recall.”

  His Grace, Nick, became suddenly very interested in the contents of her brother’s sideboard.

  “Her what?” Sutton looked at Kelso and then back to Elizabeth.

  “I see I should make introductions. Here, drink this.” Nick handed Sutton a glass filled with amber liquid. “This, Cam, is my cousin. Henry Spencer Hammond, Baron Kelso. I introduced you some time ago, when you first returned from Macao. You may not recall.”

  Sutton’s face looked over Kelso with dislike. “I recall.”

  “Might I suggest we continue this reunion within the privacy of your study, Cam?” He waved a hand down the hallway where two maids had just rounded the corner, coming to a halt at the sight of the study door open.

  Sutton took Elizabeth’s elbow, steered her firmly inside and closed the door, nearly in Kelso’s face.

  Kelso snorted and stuck his foot out.

  Only Nick seemed entertained by the proceedings.

  Her brother’s study was pure chaos. Books were stacked knee deep on one side. Maps covered one wall. A bound ledger sat on the corner of the desk. The leather couch was the same, a deep coffee color, still sporting a tear in one cushion.

  Papa’s study.

  It had changed very little except for the portrait now hanging over the fireplace. Mother had hated that painting and often, after several glasses of wine, threatened to destroy it. It had once hung with the other portraits upstairs but at some point, after Papa had caught her mother bribing a footman to burn the painting, Papa had locked it away.

  A young woman sat leaning against a tree, an impish smile on her wide mouth, while a black-haired infant played on her lap. She’d seen her father speak to the painting, or more correctly, to the woman, after which he would promptly go into the gardens and wander among the blooms. She’d wondered as a child why the woman made Papa so sad. Now, of course, Elizabeth understood who the woman was. Though Sutton looked like Papa, his resemblance to the woman was unmistakable.

  “I’m glad Madeline is here,” Elizabeth said to her brother, nodding to the portrait of his mother.

  “Stop delaying,” Sutton said, the anger in his voice unmistakable. She didn’t think the anger was directed at her, but rather at his confusion over Kelso. “I would have an explanation as to how you managed to come across my sister who has been living with nuns,” he said, pausing, “in one of the most remote spots in England.” He looked at Nick with betrayal. “And under the protection of the Duke of Dunbar.”

  Elizabeth raised her hand where the thin gold band shone in the sunlight streaming through the study window. “First, Sutton. I did not leave St. Albans of my own accord.” She held up her hand at the rage in her brother’s face. “Nor did he take me. Lord Kelso and I have married. I am now Lady Kelso.”

  Sutton froze. If the situation hadn’t been so combustible, Elizabeth would have laughed at the look of utter horror on her brother’s face. Finally, he snarled, “The marriage will not stand. I’ll have it annulled immediately.”

  “The marriage has been consummated.” Kelso gave a smug, knowing smile. “I assure you. Don’t you want to know how I found her?”

  Nick’s arm shot out immediately, effectively stopping her brother from charging Kelso like an angry bull.

  Elizabeth shot a glance at her husband. He was deliberately provoking her brother, to what end she didn’t know. “You aren’t helping, Kelso. Don’t you have business which requires your attention? Don’t let me keep you.”

  Kelso only shot her a bland look, the tiny half-smile tugging at his lips.

  “You stole my sister from St. Albans. I don’t care if it has been consummated. She’s young and impressionable. It’s kidnapping and I won’t allow it to stand.” Sutton’s voice had gone cold, the tone of a wealthy marquess who rarely, if ever, had his decisions questioned.

  “I am not impressionable,” Elizabeth said quietly but no one was listening. “Not in the least.” Although she had decided she
liked to swear and play cards.

  “I didn’t take her from St. Albans. Your stepmother did,” Kelso shot back at her brother. “I merely found her and helped her escape.”

  Sutton’s anger deflated, but his hand tightened around the glass. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, Jeanette Reynolds,” Kelso spoke slowly as if Sutton were half-deaf, “your stepmother, arrived at St. Albans with a giant, not-too-bright footman and took your sister.”

  “Jeanette?” Sutton took a deep breath. “How is that possible? She’s catatonic and hasn’t spoken in years.”

  “I assure you, her health has improved,” Kelso said.

  “I asked you not to speak,” Elizabeth snapped at him. “You are making things worse. Sutton.” She moved to stand before her brother. “Herbert Reynolds is dead.” She shook her head. “At least Mother told me he was.”

  “When?” Her brother sat down on the couch, looking at her in confusion. “It’s impossible. His solicitor would have written me. Herbert was in good health.”

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “But Mother had on widow’s weeds when she took me. She told me he collapsed while reading her poetry. Sutton.” Elizabeth reached out to tentatively touch her brother’s arm. “She means to return to London and re-enter society. Right all the wrongs done to her. She’s aligned herself with the Duke of Langford.”

  “It still doesn’t explain why you married him.” Sutton’s jaw clenched, the beautiful features stony, as if carved from granite.

  “It doesn’t?” Kelso challenged.

  Elizabeth shook her head, warning Kelso not to say another word. She needed to explain the circumstances to Sutton before her brother did something stupid and attacked her husband. She cast a glance at Nick, pleading with him for help.

  “Cam, why don’t I take my cousin home with me?” Nick said, taking Elizabeth’s hint. He turned to Kelso. “I assume you’ve not sent word to have your house opened since your trunks have arrived at my home.”

  Her husband gave a curt nod. “It would be best, Lord Cambourne, if your sister stayed with you.” Kelso’s aloof mask had fallen back into place. “She needs to reacquaint herself with her family.” He glanced at Elizabeth, regret flitting briefly in his eyes.

  “I do not appreciate being spoken about as if I’m a child.”

  Kelso’s hands curled at his sides. He started toward her, then stopped. “I trust you to explain the situation correctly.”

  “Of course. I thank you for your assistance, Lord Kelso.” Elizabeth stood still, wanting nothing more than to wind her fingers into his shirt and feel the warmth of his skin. He didn’t want her, though; she needed to remember that. “I know you have business to attend to in town. I believe I’ll return to Gray Covington with my brother.” She looked to Sutton who nodded in agreement. Elizabeth ignored the anxiety welling within her, a now common reaction to the separation from Kelso.

  “I bid you good day, Cambourne.” He bowed to her brother. “I’ve my own coach, Your Grace.” Then Kelso strode from the room and out of her life without a backward glance.

  The silence in the room thickened as both her brother and Nick waited for her to move or say something. But Elizabeth wasn’t inclined to speak. The loss of Kelso’s presence struck her immediately. She lifted her chin. She had his name. It would be protection enough.

  “I’ll make inquiries,” Nick said from behind her. “And check into Herbert Reynolds’s death for you. Langford is possessed of his own connections, some of them powerful. It may take some time. For now, I’ll leave you both to get reacquainted.” Her brother’s closest friend came forward, his arms open. “May I?”

  She nodded and allowed the much larger duke to embrace her, willing away the thin hum of anxiety. Nick had been another constant in her life. He’d taken her to St. Albans.

  “I am so very glad,” he said in his whiskey laden voice, “that you are safe. I can’t wait to hear the tale of how you met my cousin, but I now better understand the reasons for your marriage. Be gentle with your brother, Elizabeth. He loves you very much.”

  “I know,” she whispered into his coat before stepping away.

  Once Nick left, shutting the door behind him, Elizabeth and her brother stared at each other in silence, neither certain where to begin.

  “Sutton,” she started.

  “Kelso is a known rake. A despoiler of women. Christ, Elizabeth, he’s closer to my age than yours.” He put his head in his hands. “We should seek an annulment. I thought you wanted to be a nun.”

  “Mother Hildegard was adamantly opposed to me taking vows, and frankly, I wanted to be a nun for all the wrong reasons. I needed protection, Sutton. I needed a husband. Kelso needed a wife.”

  “I can protect you. I fail to see how marrying Kelso would be advisable under any circumstances.”

  “Perhaps you weren’t listening. Mother kidnapped me, Sutton.” Even now Elizabeth could feel the panic rising inside her as she remembered being taken and her mother’s plans for her. “She was going to give me to Langford. Wed me to him before you even knew I was gone. The only way I would be safe was if I was no longer of interest to Langford. He was determined to have a virgin as his bride. I am no longer in the running.”

  Sutton fell back, whether from her blunt words or what had almost happened to her, she wasn’t certain. “Elizabeth—”

  “Do you understand my meaning?” Her voice had raised an octave as she began to pace before her brother.

  “You’re barely eighteen.”

  “I’m no longer a child, Sutton. I haven’t been for a very long time.”

  Sutton’s eyes filled with sadness. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course.” He reached out to take her hand. When she didn’t flinch, he pulled her down next to him on the couch. “I’m listening. Tell me.”

  Elizabeth sank into the comforting leather of her father’s couch, her brother’s hand warm in hers. “I was weeding the gardens and contemplating my future at St. Albans. I’d had a very terse discussion with Mother Hildegard the day before, about becoming a nun. She told me I wished to be one for all the wrong reasons.” Elizabeth gave him a weak smile. “Mother Hildegard is correct. I’ve no calling, Sutton. None. I can’t heal the sick, nor feed the poor. I’m actually quite awful at all the things nuns are known for.” A choking sound came from her throat. “I’ve been afraid for so long, Sutton. London. Archie. Mother. You.”

  “Me?” A bewildered look crossed his face.

  “I thought I’d done something wrong when you sent me away. Mother Hildegard assured me that was not the case.”

  “No. I—” His beautiful face was anguished, breaking Elizabeth’s heart. “I wanted to protect you.” The words grew thick. “Archie—”

  “Never touched me. At least, not in the way you and Grandmother assumed.” She looked away. This was the hard part, the blame she placed on herself for Papa’s death. “I think he meant to, but on that horrible day he only touched my knee. Before that, Archie never did anything inappropriate.”

  Her brother blinked, taken aback by her confession. “I—thank God.” He kissed her hand. “I’ve blamed myself for years because I wasn’t here when it happened. How selfish I was to be running about Macao instead of taking care of my family. Of you. Father.” Sutton’s face became tortured. Grief-stricken. “He died because I wasn’t here. My fault. Had I come home when he first begged me to, he would still be alive. You, my precious sister, were never at fault for anything.” His voice lowered with emotion. “To think you lived with such a thing, when it was me.”

  Tears wet Elizabeth’s cheeks. She clutched her brother’s hand tighter. “No. Sutton, I’m the one who screamed. I shouldn’t have. He only touched my knee. Papa died because he thought Archie…” She sobbed. “No one asked me.”

  “And I sent you away.” His own eyes filled with tears. “Without talking to you about what happened. I wanted you away from here. From Jeanette. I was so full of my own guilt I never thought to ask you wh
at had transpired. Perhaps I didn’t want to know.” His voice grew rough with emotion. “Forgive me.”

  “Always,” Elizabeth said, weeping in earnest. The years of guilt and fear poured out of her as Sutton held her in his arms.

  24

  Hours later, after Elizabeth had bathed, she walked to the family’s private parlor, pausing here and there to touch a beloved knick-knack. Luckily, her sister-in-law, Alex, had left a few day dresses behind when she had returned to Gray Covington so Elizabeth could discard the dress bought for her by Kelso. She instructed the maid who’d been sent to assist her to carefully launder the blue muslin with daisies and pack it in tissue.

  Her brother greeted her with a smile, waving to the small table set for two. “I thought you and Alex might be comparable in size, though you are taller.” He gave a careless roll of his shoulders. “Nearly everyone is.”

  Elizabeth had been grateful, upon trying on one of Alex’s dresses, not minding if the hem was a bit short. “I hope she won’t mind,” Elizabeth said, settling into the chair her brother held out for her.

  “She won’t. She’ll be thrilled you’ve returned to us. I’ve sent word to Grandmother and Alex at Gray Covington, as well as Miranda, though the news will take longer to get to Runshaw Park.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled, stopping her brother’s conversation, then he laughed. “Good Lord, Elizabeth. Why didn’t you say you were hungry?” He had dismissed the footmen so they could dine privately and whisked the lids off two silver platters.

  Over roasted Cornish hen, Elizabeth related the details of her mother’s intrusion into the serenity of St. Albans.

  “The garden faces the cliffs. I turned to put one of the herbs I’d snipped into my basket and there she was. I nearly fainted, seeing Mother standing dramatically against the cliffs. There was a footman with her. Gustave. There was also a driver, but I never overheard his name. Mother’s plan was to have me marry Langford and in return, Langford was to help Mother re-establish herself amongst the ton. Right all the wrongs done to her. Her exact words.”