Practically Wicked (Haverston Family Trilogy #3)

by Alissa Johnson

  “I promise to do my best.”

  “Freddie,” Lady Engsly said in a warning tone.

  “It’s a cat,” Lady Winnefred reminded them. “They’re prodigiously stealthy.”

  Lord Gideon narrowed his eyes at his wife. “Tell me you don’t mean to keep it in our chambers.”

  “How else would I keep an eye on it?”

  “Right.” He took the basket from his wife and handed it to the nearest footman. “Tell the stable master to keep an eye on it.”

  Lady Winnefred scowled at him, but even at a distance Anna could see there was no heat in it. “He’ll be keeping an eye on more than just the kitten in a minute. Where is your husbandly loyalty?”

  “Off cavorting somewhere with your wifely obedience.” He bent down and gave her a light peck on the lips. “I’m told they make a happy pair.”

  Lady Winnefred laughed, but what she said next was lost to Anna, drowned out by Max’s voice coming from down the hall.

  “What are you doing in there?”

  Later, she would feel keen embarrassment at having been caught eavesdropping by Max. At the moment, however, it was the fear of being caught by the Haverstons that concerned her. Her eyes darted from Max, to the front hall, and back again. Since they didn’t appear to have heard Max, she slipped from her doorway, hurried over, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him through a doorway into what appeared to be a small parlor.

  “What the devil are you doing?” Max asked, laughing.

  “Shhh.” Anna peeked out and discovered she could still see a sliver of the front hall, provided she stood on her toes and peered over the top of an oversized urn. “The family is here.”

  “Gideon and Lady Engsly?”

  “And Lady Winnefred.”

  “Really?” He peeked around the corner and smiled, then turned back to her. “Why are we in here whispering?”

  “I . . .” She bit her lip and searched desperately for a way to answer the question without actually answering the question, because I’m being a dreadful ninny wasn’t something she wished to share with Max.

  “I don’t know that we need to whisper,” she tried. “I can’t hear what they’re saying, so it stands to reason they can’t hear what we’re saying, although they might have heard what you said as you were coming down the hall. You were quite loud—”

  “Why are we hiding, love?” Max pressed.

  “Right.” Her eyes scanned the room, hoping for inspiration. It was not forthcoming. “Right. Well. Because . . . You see . . . I . . .”

  “What is it?”

  Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s nothing. It’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous if it’s upsetting to you. And it must be exceedingly upsetting to you if I can tell it’s upsetting you.” He shrugged when she looked at him, a little confused. “There’s no denying you can be a difficult woman to read.”

  “It’s called maintaining one’s composure. Mrs. Culpepper is a great advocate of maintaining one’s composure.” She twisted her fingers into the skirts of her gown. “She would be exceedingly disappointed to see me now.”

  “Come here.” He took her elbow in a gentle grasp, pulled her fully into the small parlor, and shut the door. “Sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit.” She wanted the option to move about the room if nerves overwhelmed her.

  “Then stand,” Max agreed. “But tell me what’s the trouble is. Don’t you want to meet the rest of your family?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied without thinking, then winced at her own answer. “Of course I do. I don’t know why I said that. Only . . . Only I’ve never spoken with a real lady. I don’t think I know how.”

  “Certainly you do. You speak with Mrs. Culpepper every day.”

  “It’s not the same. She’s family.” She clenched her hands, frustrated. “That is, she is family I know. And she isn’t good ton, like they are. She may have been at one time, but—”

  “You do have some experience with the ton,” he tried. “You’ve spoken with gentlemen. Here, and at Anover House if one is lenient in one’s definition of a gentleman.”

  “That’s different. Men are different. They’re . . .”

  “Adorable?” he offered.

  “No, that’s just you. They’re simple. Please, don’t be angry,” she hurried on when one of his eyebrows winged up. “I only mean that it’s an easy thing to converse with individuals who have but two or three interests . . . That doesn’t sound any better.” She gripped the fabric of her skirts in an effort to keep her hands steady. “Lord Engsly loves the written word and adores his family. I am certain he enjoys exploring many other topics, but his passion is for books and his family. And so that is what we discuss. It’s simple. Moreover, if I forget myself and speak out of turn, he is a gentleman and makes no mention of it. What if Lady Engsly wants to speak of . . .” She racked her mind for something sufficiently awful. “. . . Draperies, or some such? What if she wants to discuss fashion, or likes to gossip? What if I forget myself with her and say something that sends her into a swoon? What if—?”

  She broke off, unwilling to admit her greatest fear aloud.

  What if they stare and whisper and hate me because I am the Ice Maiden of Anover House?

  They could make her life a living hell. According to Madame, no one, absolutely no one, could cut to the quick quite like a true lady. The truer the lady, the deeper the cut.

  “I find ladies to be most intimidating,” she finished rather lamely.

  Max shook his head, looking bemused. “You’re the most intimidating lady I know.”

  I’m not a lady. “They’ve nothing to fear from me, and they know it.”

  “And you’ve nothing to fear from them.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Max stepped closer, took one of her hands in his. “I’d not let anyone hurt you,” he said quietly and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “I know that.”

  A warmness settled over her, easing the tight knot of tension at the base of her neck. She sought for a proper response to such a lovely sentiment, but he didn’t give her the chance.

  “Besides,” he continued. “We’ve already established you’re not a coward.”

  “One may be brave under some circumstances and less so under—”

  He squeezed her hand. “You’re not a coward.”

  She wondered if there was any possible way to argue that point without implying that she was, in fact, a coward, but nothing came to mind.

  “No,” she agreed, almost reluctantly. “I’m not a coward.”

  “Excellent.” He offered his elbow, just as he did in the morning. “Now, why don’t we take a stroll to the front hall?”

  Anna took a deep breath, then accepted Max’s proffered arm and allowed him to escort her out of the room.

  As they drew near the front hall, Anna could see that the Haverstons were laughing and talking over each other in the way of a loving family . . . And then they spotted her, and the happy chatter faded away, replaced by a tense silence.

  The joyous family reunion had come to an abrupt halt. Because of her. Anna had never felt so much the intruder as she did in that moment.

  Chin up, shoulders back, eyes straight ahead.

  She focused on the soft material of Max’s coat beneath her fingers, kept her face studiously clear of the fear she was feeling, and fixed her gaze on Lucien. He, at least, looked genuinely pleased to see her.

  “Ah. Here she is.” Lucien waved her forward. “Anna, come. Come and meet everyone.”

  She forced a pleasant smile as introductions and greetings were made.

  Lady Engsly, Lord Gideon, and Lady Winnefred were clearly fond of Max, greeting him with genuine smiles and a bit of good-natured teasing.

  Their reception of her was more subdued. Lord Gideon smiled the most, but also studied her with the most intensity. Lady Engsly appeared friendly but wary, and Lady Winnefred struck Anna as being equal parts inq
uisitive and uncomfortable.

  They inquired after her stay. She asked after their journey. The word “well,” was once again put to poor use. It was like meeting Lucien all over again, only the awkwardness and uncertainty were multiplied. And she couldn’t use weariness as an excuse to escape to her chambers.

  Luckily, Lady Engsly made the excuse instead. “I do hate to point it out, but Freddie and I simply must retire for a bit. We are positively coated in dust, and most uncomfortable—”

  “No, I’m not.” Lady Winnefred shrugged when all eyes turned to her, the dustiest of all the travelers. “Uncomfortable, that is. I’m just famished.”

  Lucien gestured down the hall. “Mrs. Webster just sent a small repast in the breakfast room, if you—”

  “Excellent.” Lady Winnefred turned bright amber eyes and a wide smile on Anna. “Would you care to join me, Miss Rees?”

  The invitation took Anna completely off guard. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one similarly affected. Several sets of eyebrows winged up at once.

  Fortunately, she saw only surprise and curiosity amongst the group, not so much as a hint of disapproval. Unfortunately, that left her without a reasonable excuse for not joining Lady Winnefred in the breakfast room.

  “I should be delighted to accompany you,” she lied.

  She wracked her brain for an acceptable, inconspicuous way to invite Max along, but before she could come up with anything suitable, Lord Gideon asked for his and Lucien’s company in the study.

  Before Anna knew it, Lady Engsly had left for her chambers, a maid had been dispatched for Mrs. Culpepper, Lucien had declared that they should all reconvene soon in the breakfast room, and Anna was accompanying Lady Winnefred from the front hall.

  Anna wasn’t sure whether or not it was a blessing that the breakfast room was such a short walk away. On the one hand, it removed the need for any sort of conversation on the way there. On the other hand, she didn’t have the time to come up with a suitable topic of conversation before they arrived, which left her making a beeline to the side table filled with cold meats and cheese the moment they arrived.

  Lady Winnefred, on the other hand, appeared to have something else in mind.

  A moment after stepping out the door, she leaned back out it again, looked both ways down the hall, then stepped back inside and blew and errant gold lock out of her eyes.

  “I promised Lilly I’d be on my best behavior, but honestly, this is ridiculous. How the ton comes to know each other around all this denial of the obvious, I will never understand.” And with that small speech, she planted her hands on hips in a distinctly masculine fashion and asked, “Are you really Gideon’s sister?”

  Anna carefully set down the plate she’d just grabbed and turned to face her sister-in-law. “Yes, I am.”

  Winnefred bobbed her head. “Gideon insisted that Lucien’s man could be trusted, but sometimes a person needs to ask for oneself. I hope you understand.”

  What Anna understood was that Lady Winnefred had essentially just taken her at her word. “I . . . Yes, I understand perfectly.” She just hadn’t expected it.

  “Excellent, now . . .” Lady Winnefred leaned over to peak out the doorway yet again before coming over to join Anna at the sideboard. “What was it like growing up in Anover House?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Amongst the wild ladies and wicked gentlemen.” She picked up and began filling a plate of her own. “Was it terribly exciting?”

  “I . . . No, not particularly,” Anna replied automatically, then wished she hadn’t. Nothing in Lady Winnefred’s tone or bearing suggested she was interested in condemning. Rather the lady was merely inviting Anna to share a story or two.

  And now the lady looked mildly disappointed.

  Anna swore silently. Speaking of her life at Anover House was not ideal, but it was shortsighted of her to rebuff a friendly invitation. She sought for a way to satisfy Lady Winnefred’s curiosity without horrifying her but couldn’t come up with anything more substantial than, “It was quite loud on occasion.”

  Fortunately, Lady Winnefred seemed appeased by that. She nodded in understanding. “London seems always to be prodigiously loud to me. I much prefer the peacefulness of the country.”

  Anna’s heart leapt at those words. Something in common. They had something in common. “I do as well,” she returned, picking up her plate once more. “I’ve only been here a very short time, mind you, but I always knew I’d like the country more than town.”

  “I always knew I wouldn’t like London, even before I’d ever visited.”

  Anna tried to recall what history she knew of Lady Winnefred, but couldn’t come up with more than, “You’re from Scotland, are you not?”

  “In a roundabout sort of way,” Lady Winnefred said. “I’m English born. When my father passed, I became ward to the late Marquessl of Engsly. Lilly was a cousin to his second wife, recently orphaned as well and in need of help. We were taken to Scotland and left there.”

  Anna was caught off guard by that last statement, and the matter-of-fact tone in which it was delivered. She had an image of a carriage stopping just on the other side of England’s border, dropping off two young women and turning round again.

  “Left there?”

  “At Murdoch House, my farm,” Lady Winnefred clarified, as she carefully selected a slice of roast beef.

  Anna wasn’t sure that was altogether better. “Alone?”

  “Very much so. Though I think Lilly, being responsible for the both of us, felt it more than I.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was thirteen. Lilly . . . a few years older.” She smiled impishly. “She doesn’t like it when I mention her age.”

  “Good heavens. You were children.”

  “By some standards,” Lady Winnefred returned and reached for a thick slice of bread.

  Anna was floored by the realization that she had something very significant in common with Lady Winnefred and Lady Engsly. They too knew what it was like to be isolated from the rest of the world.

  “That must have been . . .” Terrifying, she thought. Thirteen ought to be childhood by everyone’s standards. “Difficult.”

  “Very, at times. But I’d not trade Murdoch House for the world. It’s home.”

  Anna didn’t have a response to that. Somehow, I’ve traded Anover House for the promise of a thousand pounds and a friendly dog didn’t seem right.

  Lady Winnefred jerked her chin at Anna’s empty plate. “Are you not hungry?”

  “What? Oh, right.”

  Rather than take a seat at the table, Lady Winnefred leaned a hip against the sideboard and waited while Anna filled her plate. “Tell me more of this Anover House. Is it true that the ladies really run about all day with the tops of gowns down around their waists?”

  Anna nearly dropped the fork she was holding. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From Lilly, and she knows everything.”

  “She is mistaken.” Anna caught Winnefred’s fallen expression and took a risk. “Though perhaps not entirely mistaken. There are some women who, at some parties, are not adverse to, shall we say, advertising their wares. But it’s not done by all the ladies, and it’s not done all day.”

  “I see. Have you ever—?”

  “No.”

  Lady Winnefred bobbed her head, thoughtful. “I can’t imagine being so bold. I’m no prude, mind you, but prancing about without one’s clothing . . .” She titled her head ever so slightly and squinted her eyes, giving Anna the distinct impression that her ladyship was envisioning herself naked at the breakfast table. “No . . . No, I don’t think I could do it either. Should dearly love to see it, though. What a ridiculous sight it must be.”

  Anna had only caught sight of such a spectacle a few times. Ridiculous was the perfect description. “It’s not an experience one wishes to repeat.”

  Lady Winnefred nodded, sent a wary glance at the door. “Lord, I’ll never hear the end of
it if Lilly hears of this conversation, but I must know . . . Do the gentlemen ever participate?”

  Anna could scarce believe she was having this conversation with a lady. “Less often, but it has happened.”

  “Have you seen it happen?”

  She’d once caught a glimpse out a window of a gentleman’s bare backside as he’d dashed through her mother’s torch-lit garden after goodness only knew what. But before she could tell Lady Winnefred the story, they were interrupted by a voice in the doorway.

  “Has she seen what?” Lord Gideon inquired, eyeing them both when Lady Winnefred smiled at him without comment and Anna took an extreme interest in her selection of cheese. “Do I want to know what we’re discussing?”

  “No,” the women replied in unison.

  Anna glanced up in time to see Lord Gideon shrug lightly. “Fair enough. Just be careful Lilly doesn’t hear of it.” He looked to her and offered a jovial wink. “She lectures.”

  Anna felt a bubble of laughter catch in her throat as she shared a private smile with Lady Winnefred on their way to the table. They had a secret, she realized with growing wonder. A silly, harmless, even pointless secret, to be sure. But a secret nonetheless.

  Perhaps she wasn’t so inept at conversing with ladies after all, she mused. And as the afternoon progressed, she began to wonder if she might be able to get on well enough with all the Haverstons.

  After filling his plate, Lord Gideon joined in their conversation, which had moved on to the delights of country living. Lady Winnefred happily extolled the benefits of residing on a farm while Gideon teasingly baited her by extolling the benefits of residing with a happy wife, even if it meant extra time and travel for supplies and company.

  Lucien and Lady Engsly entered the conversation when they arrived minutes later, with Lady Engsly being a proponent of town life, while Lucien recused himself from the debate, declaring he couldn’t possibly chose between the pleasure of agreeing with his wife or contradicting his brother.

  When Mrs. Culpepper arrived, introductions were made anew and then, to Anna’s great delight, the conversation immediately resumed when Lord Gideon asked Mrs. Culpepper her views on country versus town life.