My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance)

by Cheryl Bolen

  "Could you join me in the library for a moment, Miss Lambeth?" he asked Freddie.

  Chapter 24

  Stacks closed the library door behind them. Freddie turned to him, her green eyes sorrowful. "Hold me." She sounded like a lost waif.

  Despite his resolve, despite his best intentions, he drew her into his arms. She slid her arms beneath his coat and closed them tightly around him, her face snuggled into his chest. He held her for a moment, exulting in the feel of her. By her simple need, she had shown him she loved him still, even after knowing he killed Elizabeth. God's eyes, but he loved her. He loved her to the depths of his soul. But because he loved her so dearly, he had to deny himself the agonizing pleasure of her.

  He loosened his hold, standing back and lifting her chin with a knuckle. "I can't touch you and keep my head straight enough to remember what I called you here for. Let's sit down."

  She went to the sofa and sat on one side of it, obviously intending for him to sit beside her.

  He could not allow himself such luxury. He sat in a chair facing her. "It's about your uncle," he said, trying to purge himself of the shattering feel of her.

  She looked at him solemnly. "You want to know what we talked about."

  "Julia Taylor has talked to him, I am sure."

  "Actually, she wrote him. I told my uncle she was bitter over being dismissed for being unreliable and incompetent."

  "Did your uncle ask if I had forced myself on you?"

  "He phrased it unwanted intentions. So of course I told him no," she said with a little laugh. "I told him you were the perfect gentleman, that all the rumors were false, that an inquest found Elizabeth had died by her own hand."

  "You did not tell him about us?" What about us, he wondered. That they loved each other? That he could never offer marriage. That Freddie was as much a part of him as his very flesh and bones?

  "I would not do so without your permission, Thomas. After all, there is no formal understanding between us. From her grave, Elizabeth reaches her tentacles to keep us apart."

  How could one so young have such keen understanding, he wondered. She instinctively knew he could never marry her because he had killed Elizabeth. Ten tortuous years ago.

  Freddie lowered her lashes. "I did tell Uncle Harold that you said you'd never marry again."

  "That is the unfortunate truth."

  Her eyes moist, she gazed at him. "I don't mind as long as I can stay with you. That's all I ask."

  He was nearly overcome with emotion. His heart's desire loved him, not his riches, not his title. She had lifted him from the valleys of hell.

  But he could never drag her into his sordid world of anguish.

  "You're far better off without me. You'd do better to accept Edgekirth--damn his eligibility--or Luke Rountree. They can give you their name, children, all the respectability a woman could want--none of which I can offer."

  "But I don't want them! I could never, ever love them, and I would beggar myself before I'd marry without love. Would you condemn me to so miserable a life?"

  He averted his gaze from her anguished face for it pained him too deeply. "I want only what's best for you," he said throatily.

  He got up and crossed the room, nervous over what he was going to have to say. He poured himself a glass of brandy, took a long drink from it, then turned to face her. "You can't possibly still love me, knowing I killed Elizabeth."

  She nodded simply. "You have punished yourself long enough, my love. I will not let Elizabeth come between us."

  He laughed a bitter laugh. "Would that you had such power." If his poor Freddie had anywhere to go, he would have sent her packing to protect her from himself. But he knew he could never send her back to Sir Harold.

  And she hadn't given him only her heart; she had lain her child-like trust on him, and he could not let her down.

  He would have to keep her here, even if her presence tortured him with every breath he drew.

  "Oh, Thomas, I wish they had never come," she said, her voice forlorn.

  He sat back in the chair facing her, fighting the urge to move the few steps to her and take her in his arms. He must deny his desire to smother her body with his own. "We cannot worry over what cannot be changed," he said. "We must endeavor to speed them back to Sussex."

  "But how? I don't believe they plan to leave until Roxanne snares your heart."

  "That she can never do." He swallowed hard as he watched his cherished child/woman, the only one who had ever really owned his heart. "I had asked you here to discuss how to get rid of your unpleasant family. Do you think your uncle is satisfied that I am not a monster who seduces young ladies?"

  "I believe he is. He doesn't suspect there's anything between us."

  "As there cannot be. For you own good, Freddie." He bit at his lip. "I shall tell them I am giving them a farewell ball before they leave. I believe your cousin would relish the young gentlemen dancing attendance upon her. Perhaps she will develop an affection for one of them."

  "Not unless they're titled. She's already turned down many offers."

  "That is, indeed, unfortunate. Nevertheless, I shall have it understood that they leave after the ball."

  "When will the ball be?"

  He folded his lips in thought. "Next week. In the meantime, no working in the garden, no working in the library, no private conversations. Your uncle is to suspect nothing."

  She nodded and got to her feet. She started for the door, then turned back to face him. "If it takes a lifetime, I will defeat Elizabeth." Then she turned back and swept from the room.

  ***

  At dinner Stacks had Edgekirth on his left, Dorothea on his right. He seated Roxanne next to Edgekirth. Ever the gentleman, Edgekirth conversed politely with Roxanne throughout dinner. From the foot of the table, Freddie took in the proceedings, talking occasionally to Uncle Harold.

  As the dinner drew to an end Stacks addressed Uncle Harold. "I plan to throw a ball next week as a farewell to our fine visitors."

  Uncle Harold seemed taken aback by the news, but Roxanne embraced the idea with enthusiasm. "How delightful!" She turned to Stacks. "I hope to have the honor of dancing with you, Lord Stacks."

  "Lord Stacks dances only rarely," Edgekirth said.

  Roxanne directed her attention at Freddie. "Have you ever danced with your guardian?"

  "A quadrille, once, at the ball he gave to introduce me." She wanted them to know their dance had been the totally asexual quadrille.

  "My, my," Uncle Harold said. "One ball to say hello and another to say goodbye."

  "Whatever will you wear, my dear?" Aunt Dorothea asked her daughter.

  "I am told Fredericka has many lovely ball gowns," Roxanne said. "Perhaps one of them could be hemmed for me. Freddie's so much taller than I."

  Freddie took a deep breath. "A grand plan. You're free to take your pick, Roxanne."

  Roxanne ran her eyes jealously over the sea green gown Freddie wore.

  After dinner Roxanne sang while Lord Stacks played the pianoforte. She stood possessively beside him and turned the pages of his music.

  Freddie fumed.

  Edgekirth scarcely removed his eyes from Freddie while Roxanne sang.

  When the entertainment was finished, Uncle Harold proposed that the three gentlemen and Freddie play a rubber of whist.

  "But what of your wife and daughter?" Stacks asked.

  "They always have embroidery they can work on."

  Roxanne glared at her father.

  Stacks ignored her and moved to the game table. "A fine idea, Sir Harold."

  "Lord Stacks loves nothing so much as a game a whist, Uncle," Freddie said, smiling, knowing that Roxanne had never made a secret of her dislike of the game.

  Uncle Harold pulled out a chair for Freddie. "I want you for my partner, my dear." He settled in the seat opposite of her. "That daughter of mine never could tolerate sitting still for so long. She's always got to be busy doing something. None of my girls, for that mat
ter, have any inclination for study. Miss Rogers, their governess, has lamented the fact now for many a year."

  Freddie and her uncle won the first game, but Stacks and Edgekirth won the next two. When they finished, Edgekirth left, and all the others went to bed.

  ***

  During the next week, rain prevented them from going out of doors. It wasn't a hard rain, just a steady drizzle, not enough to prevent callers. Both Rountree brothers paid morning calls--without their sisters, who had no desire to expose their fashionable hair to the wet weather. John Rountree took a decided interest in Roxanne, and begged her to stand up with him at the ball.

  Edgekirth called every day, and Tobias Whitcombe once.

  While the others entertained callers, Stacks drew up a list of people to be sent invitations to the ball and busied himself with a variety of duties pertaining to the fete.

  Roxanne had wasted no time in seeking the opportunity to peruse Freddie's wardrobe to select a ball gown.

  Freddie held up the white gown she wore to the previous ball. "You probably won't want to wear this one since I wore it to the last ball."

  Roxanne's eyes lingered over every detail of the dress. She took its fine fabric within her fingers. "I've never seen a lovelier dress, but you are right. I cannot wear it."

  Freddie then showed Roxanne four other gowns of equal quality. "They're all so beautiful," Roxanne whispered, "but none of them are my colors."

  "In case you haven't noticed, I am not your color," Freddie said. "Lord Stacks suggested colors of the earth for my complexion."

  Roxanne held out the skirt of a rose-colored gown Stacks had ordered for Freddie during the first visit to Mrs. Baron, a gown Freddie had never worn. "Such lovely silk," Roxanne said. "Though I prefer pinks and sky blues, I think this will do very well for me."

  "Anything would do well for you, Roxanne," Freddie said truthfully. "You couldn't look bad if you dressed as a scullery maid."

  Roxanne's eyes danced. "Let us hope one particular gentleman feels the same." She took the gown and marched to the door of Freddie's chamber. "I will have Mama hem it for me. She has uncommonly good skill with the needle."

  That left Freddie with the choice of two dresses, one the color of goldenrod, the other ivory. She chose the ivory.

  Chapter 25

  She tried to look happy by plastering a smile to her face and chatting merrily with Dr. Edgekirth, but Freddie's eyes seldom left Lord Stacks. He stood greeting guests near the great room's huge marble fireplace--where he had stood with her but two months earlier. Only now Aunt Dorothea and Uncle Harold stood at his left, and Roxanne, wearing Freddie's unworn rose gown, on his right. Their gaiety depressed Freddie.

  Roxanne had never looked lovelier, Freddie admitted bitterly. She looked more than ever like Elizabeth. Once again, Freddie was struck by the contrast of Thomas's darkness to Roxanne's delicate fairness. Swallowing bitterly, she admitted to herself how very good they looked together.

  Edgekirth leaned toward her and whispered, "You're the loveliest one here tonight, Freddie."

  She scowled at him. "You are positively odious."

  He feigned a reproachful look. "Why would you say that to me?"

  "Because you are. You know very well my cousin's the prettiest one here. And I have told you repeatedly not to call me Freddie."

  "Well, Miss Lambeth," he said in mock sincerity, "It is my opinion as a learned member of the Royal College of Surgeons that you are possessed of the greater beauty. Yours is a beauty that will endure as the years advance whereas I see your cousin as a short, fat matron a decade from now. And coming from one who is more than I decade your senior, you must trust my words as oath."

  She smiled into his warm green eyes. He looked terribly handsome tonight. He had obviously been to an excellent tailor since the last ball for he dressed elegantly--in much the same style as Lord Stacks. Had he copied his rival, she wondered. His black coat was of excellent quality and was complemented by pale gray breeches. His muscular body filled them out perfectly. To use his own comparison, she would have to say the golden haired, golden skinned doctor was the most handsome man at the ball.

  How unfortunate that Roxanne was more attracted to a title.

  "Well, oh mighty doctor from the Royal College of Surgeons, it might interest you to know that I braved the week's dreary weather and ventured out in the drizzle to procure honeysuckle flowers to make the asthma elixir for you."

  His tanned face crinkled when he smiled down at her. "That news distresses me. I care much more for your continued good health. I fear the dampness will cause you to take a fever again."

  "Pooh," she said, watching the Rountree brothers making their way across the now-full room to them. John Rountree, tall and dark and young, was every bit as good looking as the doctor, but the loudness in his choice of clothing made him look like a buffoon in her eyes. Tonight he had chosen a purple satin coat set off with large brass buttons. His curate brother wore a simple black coat of not especially good tailoring.

  The brothers bowed to Freddie and Edgekirth, and the four of them began to converse. John Rountree seemed distracted with watching Roxanne. "Tell me your lovely cousin is not leaving," he pleaded with Freddie.

  "I can tell you no such thing," Freddie said. "I'm not sure when she goes, but it should be soon."

  His face fell even lower.

  "You could see her in London if you would go," Freddie offered. "She very much enjoys the society there."

  Luke Rountree came to stand beside Freddie. "Tell me you are not going to London, Miss Lambeth."

  "You can be assured of that!" Freddie said with a broad smile. "All I could ever want is here in Yorkshire." Her eyes moved to look at her guardian while Edgekirth's gaze followed hers, his mouth compressed tightly.

  By now all the guests had arrived and Lord Stacks ordered the orchestra to begin playing.

  Freddie watched morosely as her guardian went back to Roxanne and asked her to stand up with him.

  It was then that she allowed herself to gaze at Edgekirth, who promptly asked her to dance a set with him.

  ***

  Damn the girl's impudence, Stacks thought as he watched his dancing partner flawlessly executing the intricate steps of the quadrangle. His demure Freddie never would have been so bold as to ask a gentleman to dance as the fair Roxanne had done. He watched Roxanne in the rose colored dress he had selected for Freddie. He thought of the rose that had been in Freddie's cheeks that day in York. How he longed to see her get her color back. His mind began to drift to that day he and Freddie had walked through the streets of the old walled city. They were but strangers then. It seemed like a lifetime ago yet it had been but a few months.

  That day had been the beginning of his rebirth. He had never thought to feel again. And now he felt so deeply it hurt.

  Without being obvious, he watched Freddie and that damned Edgekirth dance. She did well, and he delighted in her accomplishment.

  ***

  As Edgekirth led her from the dance floor, Freddie saw Catherine Farraday watching him with longing in her eyes. "You must dance the next set with Miss Farraday," Freddie told him.

  "And I suppose you'll dance with Luke Rountree?" he answered.

  She shrugged. The room was growing hotter since it was now quite full of beautifully dressed ladies and equally fashionable gentlemen.

  "Should you care for some ratafia?" Edgekirth asked.

  She nodded gratefully.

  As Edgekirth left to procure refreshments, Luke Rountree came to stand beside Freddie. "May I have the honor of dancing the next set with you, Miss Lambeth?"

  She glanced quickly at Lord Stacks before she replied. He was slowly making his way around the room, chatting with guests, and looked as if he had no intentions of dancing any more. "I would be delighted," Freddie said, offering Luke a meager smile.

  Edgekirth returned with the drinks, and the three of them talked for a moment before the orchestra started up again.

&nbs
p; As Luke led her to the dance floor, Freddie overheard two women whose names she could not recall speaking. "I think Lord Stacks has finally found the one to replace his wife," one of the women said.

  "You might be right," the other said. "Do you not find that she looks very much like his wife?"

  Freddie felt almost physically ill as Luke took her hand when the music started. The set seemed interminably long. She grew hotter and hotter and felt almost as if she would faint. She prayed she could make it through the dance.

  When the dance was over, Edgekirth met her when she came off the dance floor. He had not taken her advice and asked Catherine to dance. Instead, he had watched Freddie throughout the dance. "You are feeling ill," he said to her.

  She shook her head. "It's just that it's terribly hot in here."

  "Sit down," he ordered. "I'll get some more ratafia for you."

  She was still seated when he returned and gladly took the drank he offered.

  "I only hope it wasn't getting the honeysuckle that has made you sick."

  "Nonsense," she said. "Does it not seem incredibly hot in here to you?" She looked up at him. His brow was moist, as was his golden hair. Huge circles of perspiration showed through his coat where his arms joined his torso.

  "That is the problem with summer balls," he said. "Why don't we step outside for a moment?"

  Though Mrs. Taylor had displayed enough good sense to warn Freddie against leaving a ball unescorted with a gentleman, Freddie knew there could be no impropriety at Marshbanks Abbey because the guests merely walked out the front door where a small army of footmen stood as sentry. "Very well," she said.

  They pushed through the crowded ballroom, through the vestibule that was lit only from a pair of flaming wall sconces on either side, down the front steps and began to pace on the gravel drive.

  On the seaside there was a tern's nesting area that Stacks had once brought her to. For some inexplicable reason, she gazed in that direction.

  And her heart shattered at what she saw.

  Shining in the moonlight was Roxanne's white-gold hair and Freddie's rose colored gown outlined on the tall frame of Lord Stacks. Roxanne's fair head tilted upward to kiss him.