A Heart So Wicked (The Dark Regency Series Book 6)

by Chasity Bowlin

  It hadn’t occurred to her to ask, Kit realized. But recalling how adamant he had been about restoring Rosedale Hall, she couldn’t imagine that he would wish to live elsewhere. “I don’t think so. I believe he means to reside permanently at Rosedale.”

  Vera’s face paled. “Surely not! You know what they say about that place!”

  Kit waved her hand dismissively. The slamming door and the dark figure in the upper window surely had rational explanations even if she couldn’t identify them. “It’s nonsense! Hauntings and ghosts are just an extension of the silly superstitions of every one in this village!”

  Vera glared at her. “I’m not one of them, Kit! I’m not some backward, judgmental busybody with nothing better to do than carry tales! But I’ve heard and seen things walking past that house… and it just feels wrong to me. I don’t want you to do it.”

  Joseph stirred on his cot, turning over onto his side. It gave her an even better view of the bloody mess of his hands. A heavy sigh escaped Kit as she sank down onto her bed beside Vera. “I have to… Not just for me, Vera, but for Joseph. I need to see to his future and this is the only way that I can! Please, help me… Come with me.”

  “No! Absolutely not!”

  Kit grasped her hand. “Please? I need an ally, Vera. And surely there is no ghost that could be more difficult or frightening than dealing on a daily basis with Mrs. Farrelly?”

  Vera shuddered. “That woman is the devil… But if it gets too bad, I’ll leave, Kit. There are some things that simply shouldn’t be toyed with. That house is a dark place.”

  “So is this one,” Kit answered softly.

  When Vera had gone, Kit lay down upon her narrow bed. She was tired. Weary to her very bones, in fact, and it wasn’t simply the exhaustion of the never ending stream of difficult tasks that were laid out for her by her cousin and her minion of a housekeeper. She was tired of fighting with everyone around her, of watching them whisper and smirk. Aside from her young brother whom she could only confide certain things to, Vera was her only ally. It had worn her on after more than three years.

  Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep. But it wasn’t restful. Dreams came quickly, dark and vicious, bringing fear with them. She was in her girlhood home, the townhouse in London where she’d had so many happy memories. But it was a crumbling ruin, the decay of it perfectly reflecting the decay of her current life. As she stared down the exaggerated expanse of the corridor, she could see the light from her mother’s chamber. Try as she might to reach it, every step she took failed to bring her any closer to it.

  A darkness seemed to creep in, filling the corridor with long and menacing shadows. She moved faster, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor littered with debris that dug into her flesh. Without warning, the door slammed shut, the entire corridor went dark and she was alone there. Stopping short, her breath ragged and echoing in the stillness, she was overcome with the knowledge that she was not alone there. A presence surrounded her, an evil the likes of which she had never known. It filled the space, thick and foul, making it hard to draw breath

  “He’ll betray you… they always do” The whisper wasn’t in the corridor, but inside her own mind, low and insidious.

  Kit awoke gasping for air, her heart racing and a fine sheen of sweat on her skin. It was a dream, she told herself, only a dream. But it had the feeling of an omen of dark things to come.

  Chapter 8

  Mooney sized up the man sitting across his desk from him and mentally recalculated what he would have to do in order to keep his promise to his benefactress. He hadn’t anticipated that Lord Hadley would already have located a prospective bride, much less secured her consent.

  “It would appear you have been quite busy, my lord,” Mooney offered. “And Miss Wexford has consented to your proposal?”

  “She has,” Malcolm replied. “Miss Wexford meets all the requirements you laid out. Her family is originally from the area, or rather her mother’s family was. Both of her parents are deceased and she resides in Lofton with her cousin, Patrice Hampton, who is a pillar of the community. Her father was a baronet, and while that is hardly an exalted title, it should qualify as being of good family and being gently bred.”

  Mooney swallowed convulsively. She would be livid with him and he couldn’t imagine what she might do. “It does indeed, my lord.”

  “Miss Wexford’s reputation is hardly pristine, but then you did not indicate that it had to be… I presume that there is nothing in writing about that?”

  There was not, Mooney thought, and that oversight could very well be the death of him. “No, my lord. There is no reason that you have presented that would violate the dictates expressed by the trustees.”

  “What are the options in regards to marriage licenses, Mooney? I’m unfamiliar with how that works in England,” the younger man asked.

  “You would need a license, of course, and for that the banns would have to be posted and read by the local vicar.”

  “And is that the only way?”

  Mooney deeply resented that the new Lord Hadley was so thorough in his questioning. Objections called during the reading of the banns might delay the marriage long enough to spare him the brunt of her wrath. “No, my lord. There is a common license also obtained by the clergy, for a small fee. You would not have to wait the mandatory two weeks as with a regular license. There is also a special license, but you would need to obtain that from the archbishop and sadly he is away at this time… in London.”

  Lord Hadley rose. “Thank you, Mr. Mooney. You’ve been far more helpful than I anticipated.”

  “You’re most welcome, my lord.”

  When Lord Hadley had left his office, Mooney reached for his quill and began the missive that would bring hell raining down upon him.

  Kit had woken up late. Breakfast had long been over by the time she’d made her way to the kitchen after washing with the freezing cold water in the basin in a room where she could see her breath. Her cousin was incredibly stingy with the coal supply and the few lumps they were given to burn had to be saved for nights when the temperature was beyond simple discomfort and into the realm of truly dangerous.

  On her hands and knees scrubbing floors that one of the other maids was to have washed the day before, Kit paused to push back a lock of hair that had fallen onto her forehead and unknowingly leaving a streak of dirty in her wake. If these floors have been scrubbed in a month you can call me the Queen of Sheba, Kit thought bitterly. It was often the way of it. Unwanted tasks were done poorly or in such a way that they would have to be repeated at greater frequency and somehow those tasks always fell to her.

  A long shadow fell over her and Kit glanced up to see Mrs. Farrelly glowering at her. Prepared to have the woman tell her that she was scrubbing the floors incorrectly and that her strokes were too broad, not rhythmic enough and in the wrong direction, or some other petty criticism, Kit sat back on her heels and waited.

  “There’s a gentleman here to see you,” the older woman offered with a disapproving sneer.

  The word gentleman was emphasized in a way that left little question as to his identity. It appeared that Lord Hadley had kept his word and come to call. Part of her had hoped that he would not, that it was all some elaborate ruse. Another part of her was so desperate to get away from her cousin’s home that she would have married the devil himself. You may well be, her inner voice warned.

  Kit struggled to her feet, and only once she was standing did she realize just how long she’d knelt on the hard floor. She had to rest against the wall until the numbness retreated from her lower limbs. Her whole body ached from the backbreaking work. It was Mrs. Farrelly’s satisfied smirk more than anything else that prompted her to stand up straight and walk toward the drawing room in spite of whatever pain it caused. That woman, with her smug expressions and cutting remarks, made every day a misery.

  Outside the door to the drawing room, Kit paused and took a deep breath before knocking softly. Her c
ousin’s barked reply came sharply. “Enter!”

  Opening the door, Kit stepped inside and found herself face to face not with Lord Hadley but with the man she’d never wanted to set eyes on again—the Honorable Edward “Ned” Cavendish, the man who’d ruined her and left her to face the consequences of it entirely alone. She couldn’t imagine why he’d come to call. There were certainly no remaining tender feelings on her part and she’d made that more than abundantly clear during every unfortunate encounter since.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  He sighed. “Katherine, there’s no need for such hostility. I understand your disappointment that you were unable to end my betrothal to Georgiana in spite of everything, but you must forgive and let bygones be bygones!”

  That was not what he needed forgiveness for, but she’d not admit that in front of her cousin. It would do no good. “Why are you here, Edward?” She used the name he despised on purpose, a small way to needle and unsettle him just as his presence unsettled her.

  “It’s about the assembly the other night, Mrs. Hampton,” he said, addressing his reply to Patrice. “You must understand that Georgiana finds it very upsetting to see Katherine socially… But I am not without sympathy for her and neither is Georgiana.”

  Patrice snorted in response, sparing Kit from having to do so, before she continued in a scathing tone, “If your wife has any sympathy for anyone other than herself I’d be quite surprised, Mr. Cavendish. State your business. Katherine has work to do and I have a finite amount of patience.”

  Ned’s smile never faltered, but there was confusion in his gaze. He was not used to having his charming smile leave a woman unswayed. “I’ve inquired with my cousin in Shrewsbury. She’s an elderly lady, widowed, and in need of a companion… Surely you must see that such a position would be a step in the right direction for Katherine? Regardless of her misdeeds, she was raised a lady and has never been intended for such hard labors as being a servant in your home. My cousin could offer her comfort and then, when she passes, bless her, Katherine would have a glowing reference with which to seek other employment!”

  “She’s not a servant,” Patrice snapped. “As if I’d ever pay wages to a relative! To live here without working for it would be charity and our dear Katherine’s pride demands that she never accept charity, Cavendish! Doesn’t it, my dear?”

  “Of a certain. My pride must be preserved at all costs,” Kit answered back, just managing to keep the sarcasm from her tone. She’d trade her pride for being able to bend her knees without crying at the moment. Not that she’d take Ned’s offer. Shrewsbury was a short ride from Lofton and if he knew where she was at all times and could access her in a house where he could come and go freely—well, she wouldn’t let that happen. Whatever it took, she would never let that happen.

  “Nonetheless, my cousin’s position would provide a generous wage for her. It would allow her to provide for herself and for Joseph in some small way,” he urged, the slick smile still gracing his handsome face.

  “What say you, Katherine?” Patrice demanded. She was no one’s fool, and while she understood the truth about Kit’s situation better than anyone else, it didn’t precisely make her sympathetic. “Do you wish to be employed by his cousin?”

  Kit was saved from answering by a knock at the door. The butler entered. “Madame, another gentleman is here to see you. Lord Hadley, ma’am.”

  Patrice let out a rather loud sigh of disapproval. “Show him in, then! Unless you feel this is such private business no one else should be witness to it?” she directed the last to Ned with a knowing look. She was well aware of what he was about. He was a fox guarding the hen house and looking to procure a new hen for it.

  Kit stared at the door as Lord Hadley entered. He was dressed well, his hair neatly styled and his face freshly shaven. Handsome as he was, and there was no denying that, much as she might like to, nothing would ever make him look like a gentleman. It was in the powerful way that he moved, as if he was prepared at any moment to start raining blows on an enemy. Of course, it was also evident in the breadth of his shoulders and the powerful expanse of his chest. He was not a man used to being idle.

  There was something about him—raw, primal, even animalistic. It was so far removed from the slick, smooth and sophisticated facade that Ned projected. Yet of the two of them, Lord Hadley was undoubtedly the more trustworthy of the two. Regardless, her already difficult day had progressed to strange and now beyond.

  Malcolm took in the curious stare of Mrs. Hampton, the poleaxed expression on Katherine’s face and the snake-oil smile on the face of the ‘gentleman’ present. He knew the type and he wouldn’t trust the bastard as far as he could throw him.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hampton, Miss Wexford,” he acknowledged. Since the gentleman present was unexpected, he had no idea how to address him. Lytton had gone through the particulars of paying a formal call at least half a dozen times with him the previous evening. They’d rehearsed it until Malcolm thought he’d be repeating the addresses in his sleep.

  “Lord Hadley, this is a pleasant if unexpected surprise,” Patrice replied coolly. “Please do join us. May I introduce you to the Honorable Edward Cavendish?”

  “Lord Hadley,” Mr. Cavendish said, inclining his head.

  “Mr. Cavendish,” Malcolm acknowledged. He really wanted to smash his fist into the man’s face though he hadn’t a clue why. “I apologize for interrupting your visit, but there was a rather important matter that I needed to speak to Mrs. Hampton about.”

  Mr. Cavendish’s smile broadened. “What a happy coincidence. I too came to speak to Mrs. Hampton about an important matter… I’ve come with an offer for Katherine.”

  “An offer?” Malcolm asked with a raised eyebrow and a glance in Katherine’s direction.

  “An offer of employment, my lord,” she clarified, and appeared clearly nonplussed by it. “Mr. Cavendish has offered to see me employed as a companion in his cousin’s home in Shrewsbury.”

  Malcolm looked back at the other man and knew then precisely why he didn’t like him. He’d viewed him, albeit momentarily, as competition. “I see,” he said softly, but his gaze was locked on her firmly, demanding an answer. “And is this an offer that you are interested in accepting, Miss Wexford?”

  She blinked rapidly several times, as if shocked at the mere suggestion. When she replied, her tone was stiff and even offended. “Certainly not, Lord Hadley. I’ve no wish to work for Mr. Cavendish’s cousin in Shrewsbury.”

  Malcolm smiled and turned to Mrs. Hampton. “What a relief then… I’ve come with an offer for Katherine myself—of marriage.”

  The room went utterly still. A pin dropping on the carpet would have sounded like cannon fire. The Honorable Mr. Cavendish gaped and Mrs. Hampton simply blinked at him. Glancing again at Katherine, with a streak of dirt on her forehead and patches of grime on her skirt, she simply folded her hands in front of her and kept her head held high.

  “You can’t be serious,” Mr. Cavendish finally managed, his tone filled with outrage and no little amount of pique. “You do understand that she’s ruined and a completely improper choice to be the wife of a peer?”

  Mrs. Hampton whacked the man’s knuckles with the walking stick she carried for appearances only. “You will hush your mouth this instant, Ned Cavendish! You’re the one who ruined her and yet here you sit in my drawing room asking to place her in the house of your doddering old cousin where you could get to her at any time you choose! You’ll mind your manners or I’ll have the footmen toss you out by way of the pig pen!”

  Ned, as Mrs. Hampton had called him, shut his mouth then, but rose to his feet. “You’re making a terrible mistake. She’s not fit!”

  Malcolm eyed him coolly. “You’re a man of the world, aren’t you, Ned?”

  The man tugged at his jacket, straightening it unnecessarily. “Of course, I am!”

  “And yet a man of the world was so wholly naive that he could be seduce
d by an innocent young woman who had led a sheltered and protected life? I find that difficult to believe.”

  “It doesn’t really matter what you believe, does it, Lord Hadley?” the man replied in a tone that could only be described as waspish. He sounded like a bitter old woman.

  “On the contrary,” Malcolm stated smoothly and in a voice that, at least on the surface, appeared to be perfectly calm. “As I intend to take Katherine as my wife, it matters very much. If you utter one more word, Mrs. Hampton will not have to call the footmen to toss you out of this house. I will do it myself… and I will not be gentle.”

  Apparently, foolish as Mr. Cavendish was, he did have a sense of self-preservation. His mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing like a landed fish, before he gave a curt nod and removed himself from the room.

  “You certainly know how to make an entrance, Lord Hadley,” Mrs. Hampton commented. “You might as well sit. My neck is paining me from having to stare up at you.”

  Malcolm surveyed her with skepticism. She was not old. He doubted she was but a few years beyond him and yet she had adopted the airs of a haughty dowager. But he knew his manners, or at least what Lytton had drilled into him thus far. “Certainly, Mrs. Hampton. But not until Katherine is seated.”

  “She’ll dirty the upholstery!” Mrs. Hampton protested.

  “Then I shall stand with her,” Malcolm replied.

  The woman gave a loud harrumph and muttered under her breath. “Well, if it isn’t Lancelot reborn then!” After a moment, she waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, she can sit. But you’ll pull that wooden chair over from the window. She can’t ruin it!”

  Malcolm wisely elected not to fight her on the edict. Instead, he did as she bid and retrieved the appropriate chair, hauling it over to place it near the settee where she was holding court. Katherine stepped forward and settled into the chair, but when her skirts brushed Mrs. Hampton’s, Mrs. Hampton abruptly shifted away with a look of distaste. Seeing as how any dirt on Katherine’s clothes had come from within the woman’s own house, her demeanor was deliberately cruel. No wonder the girl would agree to marry a total stranger.