Deliciously wicked

by Robyn DeHart

  “Henry, on the other hand, is quite concerned with the effect of this alibi on your reputation.”

  “That is very kind of him.” She looked at Henry. “Of you. But I assure you, I shall be fine, so you need not fret over me.” She pasted on a smile. “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time working at the factory and now I shall be free to do so. By your side, Papa. I want to learn everything there is to know.” In time that would be enough. She’d learn to accept it as enough.

  “But what of your future, Miss Piddington? What about a family?” Mr. Sanders asked.

  Gracious, it appeared that poor Henry Sanders was still harboring feelings for her. He’d approached her two years before expressing an interest in a courtship, but she had sweetly declined. Ever since then he’d been nothing but professional with her, so she assumed he had found other interests, perhaps another woman. Henry Sanders was a lovely gentleman, the most loyal of employees, but he was not the sort of man Meg wanted to marry, even if she were to change her mind about marriage.

  There was nothing in this man that would make her blood race as Gareth had. Nothing about him that called out to her, daring her to care. If Meg were honest, she knew there wasn’t a man in all of England who would make her feel as Gareth had.

  “Oh, Mr. Sanders,” she said with a smile. “I hardly have enough of a reputation as it is for this to tarnish it all that much. In a few months, it is likely no one will remember such a thing.” She wasn’t completely positive that was true, but there was no reason to encourage his attentions.

  “That would be nice, but we know that the gossips in this town are not quick to forget such things,” her father warned. “With the expansion of the factory, our name will be noticed more often. I have no doubt if you were more active in Society, you would have your selection of men. Not only with your charm and beauty, but we do have a fortune.”

  She knew he’d wanted her to find a good match. He’d wanted all the things for her that any decent father would want for his daughter. But she’d chosen a different route, and she could only hope that in the end, it proved to be the right decision. “I’m not overly concerned,” Meg said.

  Henry took a step toward her. “I would like to offer you the protection of my name,” he blurted out. He held both hands out to her a moment, then pulled them back to his body.

  Was that meant to be a proposal? If so it was the most unromantic proposal ever uttered. She could save herself now. Protect her reputation and be a married woman. To someone who no doubt would be a gentle husband, but nonetheless would forbid her to work at the factory. Perhaps it was the responsible thing to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even though it would be the safest marriage, a marriage guaranteed not to bring pain. It would also bring no happiness. There would be no point. She couldn’t do it.

  “Dear Mr. Sanders, you are too kind and flatter me. But I cannot accept such generosity.” She did not look at her father for fear of seeing pain in his eyes. No doubt he would approve of the match. “I am grateful you would make that sacrifice for me, but I can’t allow you to do so. I shall endeavor and make a nice, quiet life for myself.”

  Henry’s lips tightened. “Is there anything I can say or do to persuade you?” he asked. He looked to her father as if expecting the man to urge her to change her decision. But her father said nothing.

  “I don’t believe so.” She walked to him and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I feel nothing but gratitude for such an offer. I won’t forget it.”

  With that she turned on her heels and quickly left the room before her father said anything. Most fathers would have insisted that their daughter take such an offer, take any offer, regardless of the sort of match it would make. Any match would save her reputation now. She had to admit it wasn’t the worst offer she could receive. He had a well-paying position and was a kind man who had nice eyes. But in the end, she couldn’t justify marrying him.

  She wasn’t likely to forget it, as it had been her first proposal and would probably be her last. As far as proposals went, it wasn’t at all how she’d expected one would go. She’d actually witnessed a few in times past. All to Charlotte. Meg had stood by her friend’s side while two viscounts and a baron had asked for Charlotte’s hand. Not all in one evening, but Meg was nearly certain it had been in the same week.

  Gareth paced the parlor while waiting for an audience with Mr. Piddington. He’d worked for the man for nearly four months and he had yet to actually meet him, as Piddington had been injured the very week Gareth had started his position. He’d said nothing in the office when Meg had compromised them. But it wasn’t too difficult to imagine how he would react. Wealthy, entitled, arrogant—they were all the same.

  Gareth realized after he’d left the factory office how it must have appeared to everyone. That he was deserting her, running away from his responsibility. He should have reacted better, but there was naught he could do about that now except hope that Piddington took him at his word today. Gareth had even secured them a special license to marry by the end of the week.

  He didn’t belong in this house; he could tell that simply by looking around the room. Being dressed in his expensive suit should have helped make him feel as if he belonged more, but it didn’t. He tugged on the jacket. Money clung to everything in sight. The room was tasteful, it was quality, even to his untrained eye. This was the life he could have had. The life of a wealthy viscount.

  Had his own father not been a selfish bastard.

  Gareth hadn’t ever planned to use his title. Hadn’t wanted to become that person, take up the reins, become his father’s legacy. He’d wanted to forget. Be his own man. Prove he could be in this town and not succumb to temptations. But marrying his greatest temptation would be like walking on fire—he’d never know when it would completely consume him.

  He’d never been much for trying to prove to people he was worthy. He rarely gave a damn. As it stood, no one knew of his title. No one knew who he really was, and since he had no fortune, the title meant nothing. But now everyone would know. There was no way to hide from it any longer.

  But Meg had sealed his fate, and now he had no choice. He’d use the bloody title and then he’d be saddled with it for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want it, that he knew there was nothing but destruction when it came to a titled life of leisure. He’d seen it firsthand with his father; living the life of entitlement came with devastating consequences. Before he told Meg, he needed to ensure that all would be well. He wanted to see a solicitor, take the small amount of money he’d saved and establish the family estate. She would inherit money from her father, he knew that, but she would be his responsibility now, and he wouldn’t leave her with nothing. He needed to ensure that he knew how to handle things and that he wouldn’t become his father. He couldn’t do that to her.

  Despite taking on his title, he had no plans of entering Society. Knowing Meg as he did, it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice for her either. Her and her friends’ silly investigation of the masked jewel thief seemed to be the only reason she ventured into Society as it was.

  A few more moments later Mr. Piddington entered the room with the assistance of a cane. “I used to be quite spry,” he said as he made his way to the chair. “But as you can tell, I’m still hobbling around. Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Gareth said.

  Piddington nodded at the butler, and he bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  The man wasn’t at all what Gareth expected. He’d worked at enough factories in his life to know that most owners were fat men who screamed at their servants and wasted money on food and liquor and ladies. But Mr. Piddington was tall and trim and while clearly a man of advanced age, looked to be in the best of health—with the obvious exception of the injured leg.

  “Mr. Mandeville, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He nodded, then situated his wrapped leg in a more comfortable position. “I have h
eard much about you though.”

  Despite the circumstances, Gareth chuckled at what must surely be a gross understatement. Or maybe it was nerves. He’d never asked for a man’s daughter before. “Of that I have no doubt, sir. Mr. Munden is not my greatest fan.”

  “Not from Munden.” There was a quiet but steely strength in the man’s voice. “I actually haven’t spoken to Munden since I’ve been away from the factory. It appears you have quite the champion in my daughter, Mr. Mandeville.”

  No doubt if the man wasn’t injured, he would have challenged him to a duel. “Your daughter is why I made this visit, sir,” Gareth said.

  “Indeed?” Mr. Piddington absently rubbed his right knee above his cast. “Bloody thing has been itching for a week. It’s driving me mad.” He gave it a good scratch, then moved his hand away. “Mandeville, do sit. With you standing way over there, I feel as if we are not even in the same room.”

  Gareth liked the man, despite the current situation. He only hoped that the man liked him when the day was done. He did as he was told and sat.

  Piddington crossed his arms over his chest. “Now then, what was it you wanted to discuss about my daughter?”

  “I see no reason for us to pretend you don’t know what has happened between Meg and myself,” Gareth said.

  “Very well,” he said with a chuckle. “You left awfully quickly earlier.”

  “I realize how that must have looked, but suffice it to say, I had my reasons for leaving.”

  “Why don’t you tell me yourself what happened the night in question.”

  Gareth slowly inhaled. “We were locked in a storeroom together. Nothing occurred. Her virtue is intact, sir, if that is your concern.” It wasn’t completely intact, Gareth acknowledged, but nothing save that first kiss had happened that first night.

  “She said the same. Unfortunately the people in this town can be quite nasty and won’t care if her virtue is literally intact or not. The circumstances will ruin her reputation as soon as the word is out, and I won’t be surprised if it’s spread in the broadsheets tomorrow.” He took a moment to scratch at his leg again.

  “We’re not very active in the social scene,” he continued, “but my late wife was and the biddies will have a day with my poor Meggie.” He released an ironic laugh. “Oh, they all buy my chocolates, but they won’t think twice about gristing my daughter in the rumor mill.”

  Gareth knew all too well the sting of the gossip’s tongue. He hadn’t been too young to miss all the nasty things people had said about his father. And then consequently about his mother when she’d taken her children out of town. He couldn’t allow that to happen to Meg. She might be infuriating at times, but she didn’t deserve that.

  He cleared his throat. “It is not my intention to allow your daughter to be ruined.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Piddington asked.

  The man was certainly not making this any easier on him. Surely he had guessed why Gareth was here. “I seek your permission to wed her.”

  Piddington released a low whistle. “That’s the second proposal today.”

  “The other being from whom?” Gareth asked.

  He frowned. “My factory director, Mr. Sanders. I always knew that Henry had a fondness for Meg, but I never imagined he’d make his intentions known.”

  Gareth eyed Piddington, unsure of what to feel or say. “He asked Meg to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I am too late,” he said. Dejection inched into his chest.

  “Quite the contrary,” Piddington said. “She declined.”

  “Why would she do a crazy thing like that?”

  Piddington laughed. “That’s Meggie. She’s headstrong and reckless. Very much like her mother in that way.” Piddington narrowed his gaze. “Tell me, were you relieved, Mr. Mandeville, when you thought someone else was handling your responsibility?”

  It wasn’t an accusation, but rather an honest question, and not one full of judgment or strife. It deserved an honest answer. “No, sir, I wasn’t.”

  “Tell me, then, why you believe you deserve my daughter?”

  “I never said I deserved her. But I played a part in ruining her reputation. She put that reputation on the line to salvage mine and I owe her this courtesy.”

  “Women do not want to marry out of courtesy.”

  “Duly noted.” But it was all he could offer her.

  “I do not mean this to sound crude, but your station in life is considerably lower than my daughter’s. Why would a father allow such a match?”

  “I work in a factory, Mr. Piddington, because it is honest, hard work. I work at your factory because your wages are the best and because the extra allows me to send some funds to my family. But do not be so hasty to assume anything about my station in life based on my position with your factory.”

  Piddington’s eyebrows raised. “Explain.”

  “As greatly reluctant as I am to use this, as it will only result in unwanted effects on my life, I must be honest with you about my family lineage. While I have no funds, nor estate to offer, I have a name and a title that should afford enough protection of Meg.”

  Mr. Piddington’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You have a title?”

  Gareth drew in a great breath. The gossips had spent considerable time discussing the viscount’s wicked ways and how his debauchery and gambling had destroyed his young wife and five children. Once Piddington knew he was that Mandeville, he might not agree to the marriage. Gareth reached into his pocket and retrieved the special license and held it out to her father.

  “My father was a viscount,” he began. “I inherited the title when he died. I was twelve.”

  Her father glanced at the license, nodded, then handed it back.

  “I mostly grew up in Ireland with my mother’s family,” Gareth continued. “We had lost the estate and all the money and there was no way to pay for my schooling, so I have no formal education, but I can assure you that I’m not ignorant.”

  “I don’t think anyone would accuse you of being ignorant.” Perhaps Piddington did not recognize the name and did not remember all the harsh things said about his family.

  Piddington thought a moment before speaking again. “I can see that you were quite reluctant to share all of that. I respect your honesty and your honor. You may marry my daughter. If she will have you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I have one other request.”

  “Which is?”

  “That Meg not know about my title. Not yet. I need time to decide how best to tell her. I’d prefer to have everything decided before I discuss it with her.”

  “I can assure you that Meg can handle this information. But I will respect your wishes,” Piddington said. “A question for you, Viscount Mandeville?”

  Gareth cringed at the name, but nodded.

  “Do you care for my daughter?”

  Now that Gareth hadn’t expected. Who would have pegged Piddington for a sentimentalist? But then Meg had said that her parents had a great love. How did he answer such a question? He desired her, but her father wouldn’t want to hear that any more than Gareth wanted to share it. He did not love her, nor could he ever, but he found her company enjoyable and he didn’t want her to come to any harm. He cared about her, he couldn’t deny that.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Very well. If you can persuade her to say yes to your proposal, you may certainly wed her.”

  “She’ll say yes,” was all he said.

  Chapter 17

  Her father had said Meg had gone to her friend Charlotte’s for the afternoon. So Gareth currently sat in a carriage on his way to London. Now was as good a time as any to secure his bride.

  Piddington had loaned him the carriage and instructed the driver on where to take him. When it rolled to a stop in front of a brick town home with a black door, Gareth chastised himself for not rehearsing the right words to say. Admittedly this was not to be a proposal with promises of love and sweet whispers,
but it would have been nice to have something prepared. This was about honor and responsibility. That was the difference between Gareth and his father. Gareth knew he had responsibilities, and he would never walk away from one.

  Gareth knocked on the door and was greeted by a young girl. He hadn’t lived in Society since he was very young, but he knew enough to know that this family was financially limited, despite their good name, to be unable to hire a butler. He and his family had never had any servants either. Disgraceful behavior in the eyes of many of London’s elite.

  The young girl’s eyes widened. “May I help you?”

  “Is this the Reed residence?”

  The girl sneered. “Are you here for Charlotte?”

  “No, I’m actually looking for Meg Piddington. Is she here?”

  “She is, indeed.” The girl gave him a big smile and allowed him entrance. “They’re in the parlor. Follow me. My name is Frances.”

  “Well, Frances, thank you for your assistance,” Gareth said, then introduced himself.

  Frances opened the parlor doors with great drama, then introduced him with all the enthusiasm of a royal footman.

  Meg and Charlotte both popped to their feet.

  “Gareth?” Meg said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak with you and it couldn’t wait.” He leveled his gaze on Charlotte. “I beg your pardon, Miss Reed, I do realize this is your home, but would you allow me a few minutes of Meg’s time? Alone?” No one could ever accuse him of not having manners when he needed them.

  The tall beauty smiled. “Of course.” Then, with great reluctance, she shuffled her sister out the door and closed it behind them.

  Meg still stood. Her features pleaded with him to explain his presence. She waited a few moments more before speaking.

  “Have you come to chastise me? Because I’ve honestly had enough of that today.” She began to pace. “I do realize that you, above all others, have the right to chastise me, but could you consider me well punished?” She stopped and looked at him.

  He started to speak, but before he could say anything, she continued. “Oh, go ahead, I know you’re furious with me. But you should take a moment to see things from my perspective. I honestly was doing this for your own benefit. I know you won’t stand up for yourself to anyone, and I find that incredibly frustrating. You didn’t steal those boxes, and there is no legitimate reason why you should lose your job because of some anonymous person’s feelings against you. So you may be angry with me if you must, but I felt it was the right thing to do.”