Wickedly Ever After

  “How did you get these scars?” she said, her fingers rolling over the thickened, jagged lines on his back.

  He cocked a sidewise grin and shook his head. “Why must you be so nosy?”

  “You loved me and my scars. Let me love you for yours.”

  He mirrored her seriousness. “Very well. If you must know, it happened ten years ago. The worst day of my entire life.” His voice trailed off.

  “Go on,” she said, climbing off his lap and onto the seat next to him.

  He raked a hand over his still-damp hair. “Napoleon was still planning to invade Britain at that time, and . . . he needed to reinforce his naval power. Admiral Nelson had set up an impenetrable blockade at Toulon which he held for some time. You can imagine Admiral Nelson’s humiliation when Admiral Villeneuve broke through the blockade with not one but a whole fleet of ships. So Nelson sent the Vanquisher—I was her lieutenant then—as a scout ship to follow the fleet and report on its maneuvers. Undetected, we followed Villeneuve’s ships from Toulon all the way across the Atlantic to the West Indies. There we found out that Admiral Villeneuve’s mission was to attack and conquer the British colonies on the islands. We managed to get the word out in time, and his plans were thwarted. Villeneuve was unable to capture more than the island fort of Diamond Rock. So the fleet returned to Europe, presumably to rendezvous with the rest of Napoleon’s fleet.”

  Marshall closed his eyes against the dark memory. “Midway through the Atlantic, our captain made a tactical error, and the Vanquisher ran afoul of Villeneuve’s fleet. He was in command of sixteen ships of the line, both French and Spanish, and we were vastly outnumbered. We fought them as long as we could, but our cannons were no match for theirs. Our captain lost his life, along with dozens of our crew. The deck was saturated in blood.”

  Athena was aghast, living it as he vividly retold the story.

  Marshall’s eyes glazed over as he opened the door to long-buried thoughts. “With the captain dead, I was now in charge of the ship. And wouldn’t you know . . . my very first act of command was to surrender.” He was silent for several moments before continuing. “Villeneuve and his men boarded our vessel, and the Vanquisher now became a prize for Napoleon. We her crew were taken prisoner and roped to the deck, even the wounded and dying. The admiral was prepared to take us alive, but the captain of one of the Spanish vessels began to gnaw on his ear. That damned Spaniard walked up and down our deck, gloating over his victory. And then he convinced Villeneuve to take only half the crew, and throw the rest of us overboard, bound and helpless.”

  Athena’s blood chilled. Absently, she draped the forgotten blanket around her shoulders.

  “I can’t say why, but it galled me more that we were to be divided than that we were being denied an honorable death. I tried to reason with the admiral, but the Spaniard poked me in the chest and told the admiral to start the drownings with me. So I spat in his face.”

  Marshall rubbed his face, as if pacifying a phantom pain. “He backhanded me, hard enough to draw blood. The admiral just shrugged his shoulders and turned the matter over to the Spaniard, which now left me in the humiliating position of pleading with that bastard for the lives of my crew. Finally, the Spaniard made a deal with me. He told me I could buy the lives of my men . . . ten lashes for each man.”

  Athena’s eyes flew open further. “Ten lashes?” she repeated, incredulous. “How many men were in your crew?”

  “Two hundred and forty-three.”

  A hand flew to Athena’s open mouth as she calculated the number in her head.

  “The Spaniard’s men ripped off my coat and shirt, and tied me to the rigging. And then . . . the lashings began. The Spaniard thought that the English were cowards. He thought I would beg him for mercy. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I was determined to save my crew.”

  “Oh, Marshall. How many lashes did you endure?”

  He shrugged dispassionately. “Forty-seven.”

  She buried her face in her hand. “You poor man! You must have been in agony.”

  Marshall only heaved a profound sigh, sparing her the details.

  “Does that mean you could only save four of your men?”

  “As it turned out, we all escaped capture. The smoke from the cannons during the battle had attracted the attention of a British fleet. While the Spaniard was working me over, the British fleet surprised Villeneuve’s ships. Villeneuve and his ships quickly disengaged and headed back for France.”

  “Thank God. If it wasn’t for them, you would have been killed.”

  He nodded. “And Admiral Rowland has never let me forget it.”

  She gasped. “It was he who rescued you and your crew?”

  “That is how we met, how we became friends. I owe my life to that old man.” Marshall put a hand on Athena’s ashen face. “So now you know the truth behind the scars. And the only reason I told you is because you finally met both of my conditions: you asked me nicely . . . and you asked me naked.”

  She smiled in spite of her gloom. His story of heroism and sacrifice endeared him to her tenfold, but her heart still ached for all he had suffered. “I’m sorry that you had to endure such a horrible ordeal.”

  “Scars have a way of reminding you that the past was real. And that the past hasn’t overtaken you . . . you’ve overtaken it.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “We’ve both survived the circumstances of the past. Our scars have become our badges of honor.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  To their credit, neither Hester nor Elliott made any reference to the state of their clothes when Marshall and Athena returned to the inn. Once they changed into something less damp, they were quite respectable again.

  They sat to dinner in the pub, a delicious meal of wood-smoked haddock and potatoes. Quietly, Athena shared the news of their gold find, all to Hester’s and Elliott’s hearty felicitations.

  Marshall downed the haddock with some robust Scottish ale. “The first thing we need to do is to engage a factor, someone trustworthy who can protect our interests on the estate. Keane?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to be my man at Kildairon.”

  Elliott blinked in disbelief. “Me, sir? But I’m just a groom.”

  He chuckled. “Keane, I would never entrust such an important job to a groom.” He placed a heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But I would entrust it to my brother-in-law.”

  “Oh, sir! Thank you, sir!” He seized Marshall by the hand and shook it vigorously.

  “Congratulations, Elliott,” said Hester.

  “Yes, indeed,” echoed Athena. “Justine is a fine woman.”

  Elliott was beaming. “I can’t believe it. I’m marrying Justine! I’ll do right by her, sir, don’t you worry.”

  Marshall gave him a warning look. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make certain that you do.”

  Elliott’s surprised smile practically illuminated their table. “Justine is to be mine . . . I can’t thank you enough, sir.”

  A reflective look came over Marshall’s face. “My own fiancée told me how much she loved me, Keane. And the effect it had on me . . . every man deserves such happiness. There will be trouble ahead for you. People will talk . . . about you, about her, about me. But you won’t get any trouble from me. My sister says she loves you, and I trust that she knows her own heart. I want her to know what it means to marry for love. If she says you are the man to make her happy, then I believe her.”

  “I will make her happy, sir. I’ll go anywhere, do anything, at any cost . . . for her.”

  “Here we are,” Athena bubbled. “All lovers happy.”

  Gently, Hester pushed her chair backward. “Would you all please excuse me? I’m afraid I’m still not feeling entirely myself.”

  The two men rose politely as Hester went upstairs to her room. A twinge of concern crossed Marshall’s face.

  “It won’t be dark for another hour. Let’s take a walk,” Athena said to Marshall.

  �
��Good idea. Keane, we’ll set out for England at daybreak. Make arrangements with the innkeeper, won’t you?”

  The moon hovered over the western horizon, warring with the setting sun. A fog began to roll in from the sea, like someone pulling a big fluffy blanket over the Highlands to settle in for the night.

  “That was a wonderful thing you did for Elliott. For Justine too.”

  “Well, there’s an old song that says, ‘Love is love in beggars and in kings.’ It wouldn’t have been right to deny my sister her happiness just because I am empowered to dictate who she marries. Of course, now I have to explain my decision to Mother.”

  “I don’t see why. Justine is of age. She can marry whomever she wants.”

  “Yes, but it’s different with those of our station. There are consequences to the choice of a spouse. The repercussions of a bad one will last for centuries.”

  “I’ll never understand the English aristocracy. Waving their titles around like some kind of semaphore I’m not meant to comprehend.”

  “I agree with you. In spite of the war and capture by enemy battleships, things are infinitely less complicated at sea.”

  “If I was in the Navy, what position would I hold?”

  He smiled. “If you were in the Navy, I’d have you kissing the gunner’s daughter.”

  “Oh? Who is she?”

  He laughed heartily. “It’s the discipline we inflict on insubordinate young sailors who fail to obey their superior officers.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “If there was a lesson meant in that remark, it escapes me.”

  “Oh, no it doesn’t,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You are a shrewish, ill-tempered, quarrelsome scold. But now that you’ve given me your love, you’re even more dangerous.”

  “I told you that woman was nothing but trouble,” Aquilla Hawkesworth ranted. “Look at what she’s done to us!”

  The irate woman threw a newspaper across the dining room table, and it slid all the way across to Marshall’s hands. He unfolded the paper. And cursed.

  A giant headline shouted above line drawings of Athena and Hester. Marshall read the article aloud.

  THE LADY PATRONESSES OF ALL-MUCK’S

  Lecherous Lectures Lead Lonely Ladies To Lewdness

  It has been discovered that Countess Cavendish’s School for the Womanly Arts, a finishing academy for the reformation of spinsters and heretofore unmarried women, has been corrupting its pupils with lessons in sexual expression and turning them into ladies of easy virtue. With a clientele that includes female members of the families of England’s ruling classes, the school has been functioning as a preparatory institute for the education of courtesans. Miss Athena McAllister and Lady Hester Willett (née Bermondsey), proprietresses of the establishment, hired gentlemen of notoriety to deflower their lady students and instruct them in wanton behavior. Amid accusations of impropriety, the school was summarily closed down and the proprietresses are nowhere to be found.

  “Do read on.” Aquilla sneered. “Wait until you get to the list of the names of the pupils. Justine’s name is there, large as life!”

  Marshall read the whole sordid piece while pacing across the room. “That bastard! I warned him not to print this!”

  “You should have seen this house. Slithering with journalists. To think that my daughter should be the subject of such prurient interest. And this is only the thin edge of the wedge. Next, we’ll be banned from every salon in England. This home shall become our cloister . . . our prison!”

  “Mother, do try to be constructive. We have to figure out a way to contain the rot.”

  “Contain it? One can’t reverse this kind of damage once it’s been unleashed! It’s like tossing a bucket of feathers in the wind and then trying to catch them all back again. Words, once they’re out, are irretrievable.” She sat down on a chair and stroked her forehead. “My only consolation is that other families have been implicated too. That lessens our culpability to some degree. Thank God you haven’t published the banns. No one outside our inmost circle knows about your erstwhile betrothal to that woman.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. Aquilla came from a caste that is not given to fits of emotion, so seeing his mother in this state only exacerbated the situation. “It’s not erstwhile at all. I’m marrying Athena.”

  She leaned over a chair. “Have you gone insane? You can’t seriously be thinking of marrying this person. She is notorious! Her name will forever be whispered as one utters a profanity.”

  “We are all mired in this mess, Mother. You mustn’t be partisan. Athena and Lady Willett are fine, upstanding women.”

  “Their kind of women are rarely ‘upstanding.’ Haven’t you read that article? They spend all their time on their backs.”

  “That’s enough!”

  “Oh, you’re a fool. All those years spent with that seafaring rabble has made you a traitor to your class. Can’t you for once think of someone other than yourself? I can hardly exaggerate the damage this has done to Justine’s marital opportunities. No respectable gentleman will go anywhere near her. What are we going to do about her?”

  Her words charred him. “Don’t worry about Justine,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I shall banish her to Scotland with the first man who will have her.”

  Hester was in her boudoir, grateful to be off that horrible carriage. The jarring motion had made her very sick on the way up to Scotland, but it seemed worse on the way down. She was never fond of long trips, and this one took her from one end of the country to the other. Her lady’s maid, Rivers, helped her remove her spencer and frock, and she sat down at her dressing table in her shift to unpin her hair. With a pot of hot tea and some dry biscuits, her queasy stomach finally began to settle—until her husband stormed into the room.

  Thomas Willett tossed a newspaper on the dressing table in front of her. “What the devil is this?”

  She suppressed a spike of irritation. “It looks like a newspaper.”

  “Don’t be impertinent,” he said, pacing the room. Though he was only in his late thirties, Thomas’s hair had become prematurely gray. This, together with his gray eyes and square face, lent him a certain distinction that had attracted Hester the moment she met him. But she discovered—after she married him—that there was an imperial attitude to match his regal appearance.

  “I would have preferred a more solicitous welcome after being gone for so long.”

  “Perhaps if my wife were not acting the harlot, I might have been more receptive.”

  Hester flashed him such a look that Rivers stopped hanging her clothes and discreetly exited.

  “I know you will be good enough to explain that slur on my character.”

  “It is nothing that the world doesn’t already know. Read the paper.” Thomas turned to look out of the window.

  Hester perused the article. “I see.”

  He turned around. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  She began to brush her hair. “It is not a very good likeness of me.”

  He crossed his arms at his chest. “How can you be flippant at a time like this?”

  “I resent you being masterful in matters that do not concern you.”

  “How can you say that the utter ruin this will bring does not concern me?”

  “I said ‘concern you,’ not involve you. Nothing I do has ever concerned you, Thomas. Outside of our bedroom, I may as well not exist to you.”

  “Don’t start on that again. I won’t be led down that rabbit hole of an argument. I want an explanation for your involvement in that bawdyhouse.”

  “If you’re referring to my investment in the School for the Womanly Arts, then it should come as no surprise to you. You knew precisely where I was and how much time I spent there.”

  “But I knew nothing of the wanton indecency that was occurring there.”

  She slammed down the hairbrush. “How dare you make judgments about the activities of the school! Before you go and believ
e what the newspapers have printed, how about first asking me, your own wife?”

  A shade of remorse crossed his face, but indignation quickly replaced it. “Tell me, then. The paper says you were akin to French salonnières, receiving men of notoriety to fornicate with your students. Is that true?”

  “If you knew me better, then you should be just as outraged as I am by that appalling lie. We were educating ladies with the facts of life. Both its challenges and its pleasures.”

  He threw his arms in the air. “Pleasures! You allowed men to corrupt these women before they were legally married.”

  She reached into a silver pot on her dressing table and scooped out some cream. “You should not presume to be any better, Thomas. Had I said ‘I don’t’ before I said ‘I do,’ you might not have corrupted me before we were legally married.”

  Bafflement contorted his features. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never heard you be so fierce before. You never used to talk this way to me.”

  “You have no idea who I am, Thomas. I do not feel any less the lady for what I have done. In fact, I am becoming the lady I used to envy. I enjoyed having an influence in the lives of our students. But what I truly want is to have an influence over yours.”

  He quelled his anger somewhat. “How can you say that? Of course you have an influence over me. You’re my wife.”

  “Oh, Thomas,” she said, her head shaking slowly. “I am so much more than that.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  A chill wind began to blow through London, but it did nothing to cool Athena’s ire. She stomped up Craig Street toward the printing offices of the Town Crier, leaving burning embers in her wake.

  Just as she passed an alleyway, a hand shot out and pulled her into the shadowy recess. Athena’s scream died as a man’s large hand clamped around her mouth. He held her fast against his chest with a massive forearm, his size and strength disarming her completely. She inhaled sharply, the pungent smell of urine and horses assaulting her nose.