Still Wicked

by Ayers, Kathleen

Sutton frowned, stabbing repeatedly at his poor game hen, probably imagining her mother. “That’s a bit troubling.”

  “I escaped from Mother at a coaching inn. I tried to get to the public coach, but Gustave was searching for me. I jumped into Kelso’s vehicle. Gustave was searching the coaches and Kelso…he protected me, warning Gustave off. I told him what had happened, and he promised to get me to you in London. Kelso knew about Langford’s…peculiarities.”

  “Langford is cut from the same cloth as Archie.” Her brother threw down his fork. “He’s gone through two wives, both young, who died and were buried before anyone could investigate further. That she would give you to such a man—”

  Elizabeth reached across the table and took her brother’s hand, startling him again by her touch. Had she really spent so many years eschewing the simple physical affection of her own brother? Remembering her reaction to Young Angus, the village boy who’d touched her, Elizabeth knew she had. The thought of a strange gentleman still unnerved her, but she was making progress. Thanks to Kelso.

  “I received letters from Herbert on a regular basis.” Sutton shook his head. “None of his correspondence mentioned any improvement in Jeanette’s condition. No indication she even knew who she was. How could she possibly have found you tucked away at St. Albans?”

  “Sister Abigail.” Elizabeth had almost forgotten about the nun who had indirectly assisted her mother. “A fellow nun who disliked me. Apparently, she mentioned her distaste in several letters to her sister. A nurse. The same nurse who ended up caring for Mother.” Elizabeth lifted her brows. “I am the victim of coincidence. Fate. Can you see now why it was advantageous for me to marry Kelso?”

  “I see why it was advantageous for you to marry someone.” Sutton tucked his hair behind one ear and resumed his meal. The tiny deity bobbed against his neck as he chewed.

  Elizabeth smiled. She liked the jade baby.

  “And Kelso? Why did he need a wife?” Sutton asked, his eyes glittering like emeralds at her from across the table.

  “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” Elizabeth thought her brother looked very much like a younger version of Papa, except for the overlong hair and the shape of his mouth.

  “I need a drink.” Sutton stood, dropping his napkin and moving to the sideboard, ignoring the wine on the table. He poured a healthy dose of dark amber into a glass. “Scotch. I need something a bit stronger than the wine. This is all quite a lot to take in.”

  Elizabeth snuck a peek at the other decanter. The liquid was the color of her Kelso’s hair. Brandy. Longing filled her. It wasn’t going to be much of a marriage of convenience if she continued to miss her husband.

  Sutton swirled the scotch in his glass before saying, “I think I know why Kelso needed a wife.” He sipped at his drink.

  Elizabeth waited for Sutton to explain, but her brother didn’t elaborate.

  “Are you certain I can’t try for an annulment? Surely this isn’t the kind of marriage you wished for. Don’t you want affection?”

  She raised her eyes to her brother who appeared much too hopeful for her taste. “I don’t want an annulment. I didn’t marry Kelso purely to avoid Mother’s machinations. You are well aware of my nervous tendencies. The thought of society makes me incredibly anxious. Marrying Kelso helps me to avoid all of that unpleasantness.”

  “But you’re better. You embraced me willingly. You haven’t done that since…before Archie.” His eyes clouded. “And Kelso. You show no reluctance toward him at all.”

  That much was true. Any anxiety or fear of Kelso had disappeared for good after their wedding night. If anything, Elizabeth felt untethered without him around. Sutton would never understand.

  “I have absolutely no desire to be trotted out among the ton so a selection of suitable gentlemen can pay court to me and you can choose a suitable husband for me. The idea alone causes me to choke with panic. I don’t wish to dance or be caught in the crush of a ball. Marriage to Kelso protects me from such a thing.”

  “He’s too old for you.” The line of her brother’s jaw hardened. There was something else her brother wasn’t telling her about Kelso. “Too…jaded.”

  “I’ve made my choice,” she said firmly. “A marriage of convenience.”

  “This is truly what you want? You and Kelso will live separate lives. You’ll be alone, Elizabeth.”

  “Perhaps.” Elizabeth nodded toward the decanter holding the brandy. “May I have some of that? The brandy?”

  Her brother’s eyes bulged. “And he’s taught you to drink spirits? He’s completely corrupted you in less than a fortnight.”

  “Sutton.” Elizabeth tried to reason with her brother. “He didn’t corrupt me. I’ve always been reckless. Disobedient.” She glared at him, waving her hand impatiently until he poured her a finger of brandy.

  “St. Albans kept such behavior buried but I’m sure were you to ask Mother Hildegard she would concur.” She took the brandy from his hand. “I had McMannish teach me to shoot.”

  His eyes widened in shock. “Pistols?”

  “Yes. Pistols. I am not the small child you sent away. I will have freedom as Lady Kelso. And safety from the unwanted amorous attentions of gentlemen.”

  Sutton stroked his chin. “I see your reasoning, Elizabeth. It’s true, Kelso has a reputation. Few men would risk incurring his wrath by insulting his wife. Just promise me, you won’t make the mistake of thinking Kelso married you out of the goodness of his heart. I’m not sure he even possesses one.”

  Elizabeth didn’t agree. Kelso had a heart. He just hadn’t given it to her. But he had given her his name and his protection. “You didn’t like him before finding out about our marriage. Why?”

  “We’ve never got on.”

  Strange. According to Kelso they’d only ever met once before. “Our marriage was one of opportunity and practicality. We both benefit.”

  “I won’t fight you on this marriage, as your mind appears made up. But should you decide differently, you’ll come to me?”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth sat back, vastly relieved her brother would drop the subject of an annulment. She didn’t wish the return to her family to be colored by a rift in their relationship.

  “I’d like to leave for Gray Covington tomorrow.” He came back to the table and sat down. “Grandmother will be beside herself with joy at your return, no matter the circumstances. You have nephews and a niece who will be overjoyed to meet you. I’ve already sent word, so they’ll expect us. We can leave after breakfast, if that suits you, and be there in time for tea.”

  “Tomorrow is fine.” She hesitated. “I think I’d like to stay for a while. I’ve missed my family. And Kelso hasn’t yet opened his house.”

  Sutton gave her a broad smile, making him even more impossibly handsome. He was quite dazzling, her elder brother. Miranda had once written to Elizabeth that grown women fell over themselves to gain his attention.

  “I’ll send word to the modiste Alex uses while she is in London,” he said. “You need a complete wardrobe.” He held up his hand at her sound of protest. “Please allow me the pleasure of providing one. I can have her come to Gray Covington. She may have a few things which can be altered immediately. Alex and Grandmother will want to take you shopping themselves, I’m sure. And Miranda.” Sutton rolled his eyes. “Perhaps I should allow Kelso the privilege of providing your wardrobe after all; I’m sure between the four of you, I’ll be bankrupted.”

  A laugh escaped her at her brother’s consternation. “I’ve worn the same gray habit for years; it will be quite a change to wear color and fripperies.”

  “You’ll need a maid. Alex recently hired two girls from the village, one of whom I believe has been trained as a lady’s maid. She may suit you.”

  Elizabeth sipped her brandy, the taste reminding her of the poker game and her wedding night. Kelso. “I’ve never had a maid. I’m not sure I’d know what to do with one.”

  “I’m certain you’ll figure things
out.”

  They finished the meal talking of nothing more pressing than her niece’s penchant for picking nearly every bloom she could find in the garden, much to the head gardener’s dismay. Stories of the children, Alex, and Grandmother filled the next hour. Her brother’s own marriage was a love match, though it had begun in scandal. Her mother had tried to ruin his happiness as well.

  Yawning, Elizabeth finished her second glass of brandy and gave her brother an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, I find I’m exhausted. We barely stopped to change horses after Gretna Green.”

  “Up to bed with you, then. Do you like your rooms?”

  “Alex did a marvelous job.” Elizabeth’s suite was done in shades of pale blue and green with a motif of vines and flowers. “I feel as if I’m surrounded by gardens. I’m terrible at a great many things, but plants are the one thing I’m quite good at. I find them better listeners than most people.”

  “You get your green thumb honestly from Father and Grandmother. Alex is less inspired, though she’s done a fair bit of vegetable gardening. Your rooms at Gray Covington are similar in color.”

  Elizabeth was touched Alex had gone to the trouble of having rooms done for her in London and at Gray Covington, especially because her family wasn’t sure to ever expect her to return. The gesture meant so much and helped ease the ache of loneliness she felt. “I shall have to thank Alex. She went to so much trouble.”

  Sutton stood as Elizabeth rose. Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss on her cheek. “We have missed you, Elizabeth. And for the record, I don’t think you would have made a decent nun.” Sutton tilted his chin toward the empty brandy glass.

  “Goodnight.” She smiled and moved toward the door thinking of fate and coincidence.

  “Elizabeth,” Sutton spoke from behind her. His voice cracked with emotion. “I’m so sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”

  “But you did keep me safe,” she said without turning, afraid she would start weeping again. She loved her brother and didn’t want him to agonize over all that had happened. “For a very long time.”

  25

  “Would you like to explain how you came to be married to Lady Elizabeth Reynolds?”

  Spence sucked the scotch through his teeth and thought how best to phrase his reply to his cousin. The duke sat watching him with hooded, mismatched eyes, his fingers drumming lightly against the arm of his chair. Nick’s attempt at intimidation was poor, at best. Spence had grown up with his cousin. He wasn’t afraid of the man all of London referred to as the Devil of Dunbar.

  “After I left Edinburgh, I was injured. A pipe to the ribs.”

  “Sloppy,” Nick shot back at him.

  “Fine. Yes, sloppy. Thank you for Porter, by the way. I’ve hired him permanently.”

  “You’re welcome. I thought you and Porter might get on. I’ve found his services invaluable.” Nick looked into his glass. “I became concerned as to your state of mind.”

  His cousin was not typically so maudlin, but Spence still appreciated Nick’s concern. “I’m fine. I only wish to no longer be an indentured servant of the Crown. The life no longer holds any appeal for me.”

  “I’ve taken care of the Belgian’s son and his mother,” Nick said. “They’ve arrived in France safely. I made sure her husband’s ‘pension’ included a comfortable house, servants and a very large sum of money deposited in her name. They will be comfortable for the remainder of their lives.”

  “Thank you.” Spence felt a small weight lift from him. If nothing else, the boy wouldn’t starve. He hadn’t dreamt of him for several nights now.

  Not since Elizabeth.

  “Back to Lady Elizabeth.” Nick stretched out, his foot kicking a small block with the letter ‘B’ on it. A child’s toy. He looked down with amusement. “Henry’s been looking for that letter.” A look of pure adoration crossed Nick’s face at the mention of his son. “We are spelling ‘ball.’”

  A small bit of envy filled Spence. Tiny, like a seed which would sprout if he wasn’t careful, and become an insidious vine. He’d never shown the least bit of interest in children or in producing any of his own. “She climbed into my coach evading a footman resembling a giant ape. The man had no neck.” Spence sunk his chin down into his chest to demonstrate. “Very small head. Strangely fascinating.”

  “Go on.” Nick seemed unimpressed at his description of Gustave.

  “She was wearing a gray sack—”

  “A novice’s habit.”

  “Stop interrupting, Nick, or you’ll never hear the entire story before I fall asleep.” After a large, delicious meal and a substantial amount of scotch, Spence was quite drowsy. He’d managed to survive meeting Nick’s duchess, a willowy brunette who seemed less impressed with Nick than Spence was. Spence had liked her immediately.

  “Once she explained the situation, I realized who she was.” Spence deliberately left out the incident at the Wilted Rose. His cousin would frown on Elizabeth’s exposure to such a thing. “We tolerated each other well enough. I treated her as one does a sister.” He smiled at the pun.

  “Yes, by marrying her.” Nick didn’t crack a smile at Spence’s wit.

  “I didn’t ruin her prior to our wedding, if that is your concern,” Spence assured him. “Never laid a hand on her.”

  “The thought did cross my mind.” Nick’s gaze was intent, trying to discern if Spence lied.

  “Well, uncross it. I did no such thing.” This line of questioning was exhausting. Did no one care he’d saved her from the debauchery of Langford?

  “Not even on your wedding night?”

  God, his cousin was an awful prick at times. “It had to be legal. Consummated. And by that time, I was assured she wasn’t in any religious order. You should be thanking me for my rescue of Elizabeth.” His eyes turned to the fire crackling away in the hearth, remembering Elizabeth’s fear as she’d told him about Archie and her mother. “We needed to make sure she was safe from Jeanette Reynolds.”

  Nick seemed to mull that over for a few moments. “You know it was I who took Elizabeth to St. Albans. Just the two of us, in the dead of night. She was only a child at the time and terrified, clinging to me. It was the last time Elizabeth ever touched me, until today.” His eyes studied Kelso. “Sutton sending her away. Archie touching her inappropriately—”

  “Archie didn’t,” Spence assured him. “Touch her. At least not in the way you and her brother imagined. But the guilt over her father’s death, Archie, her mother, being sent away without an explanation…” He hesitated, suddenly feeling as if he were betraying Elizabeth’s confidence. “The result was a terrible case of anxiety. Panic. Social situations. Touching. Gentlemen. Marriage to me, as I will place no demands on her, saved Elizabeth from having to endure all the delights London has to offer. So to speak.”

  Nick digested the information. “The mind is a strange thing, isn’t it?”

  “She has a deep fear of being out in society unprotected, prey for any man bent on lechery. As my wife, she’ll be protected by my name as well as yours. She is already much better.”

  Nicked scratched his chin, considering Spence’s words. “I noticed the lack of hesitation she shows in touching you. The marriage was consummated?”

  This was becoming insulting. “Yes, I bedded her. I’ve told you so. Thoroughly. It was a pleasurable experience for both parties.”

  “You care for her,” Nick said in an amused tone. “Don’t you?”

  “I find her a bit annoying and possessed of a sharp tongue. Our marriage is one of practicality mutually beneficial to us both. We’ll live apart. Separate lives and all that.”

  “Earlier you said she was tolerable.”

  “She is. Tolerable.” Honestly, where was Nick going with this? Any affection between he and Elizabeth had been efficiently nipped in the bud.

  “I assume you resigned yourself to marrying in order to speed up your…retirement? A solid plan. Feathersmith will be disappointed.”

  “It was a re
lief knowing I would not have to dance attendance on some nitwit in the ton. I was concerned I wouldn’t have the patience for such a thing. And Feathersmith would be happy if I’d just die, and you unable to find the body.”

  Nick stood, his glass empty. “I shall have to relay to Jem that all her list making has been for naught. She thought to approach the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne with her suggestions and enlist Cam’s grandmother in finding you a suitable bride. You’ve done me a favor in that regard, as my wife has little of the talent or patience required for matchmaking. Her skills lie in other areas.” A private smile lit his cousin’s lips. “I wonder what the Dowager will make of you marrying her granddaughter?”

  Spence didn’t have the energy at the moment to care. Besides, it didn’t matter what Elizabeth’s grandmother thought. Elizabeth was his wife, and nothing would change that.

  “Nick, I’ll need your help with my resignation.” Spence looked up at his cousin. He desperately wished to be done with Feathersmith and the ministry.

  “Of course. I have already impressed upon the ministry that my family’s request to be released from an archaic contract made several hundred years ago is in their best interests. We will never work against the Crown, but neither should we continue to be enslaved by them.”

  “Thank you.” Spence wanted to put the past behind him. The urgency had increased after marrying Elizabeth. He’d seen her face when she’d asked about the man who’d accosted her back at Mrs. Nobs’s tavern. Another reason to keep his distance from his wife.

  Already he felt the loss of Elizabeth. It was doubtful his cousin had enough scotch to dull the ache.

  “Your rooms are ready,” Nick said. “I’ve sent word to Somerton informing Brendan and your mother you’ve arrived in one piece. Your brother has married. Jem’s cousin, Petra.”

  “I’m shocked he found a woman to put up with his rocks and dust.” It was difficult for Spence to think of his solitary, reclusive brother as married. “I’m sure Mother is beside herself.”

  “A love match.”