Too Wicked to Love

by Debra Mullins

  “No.” John’s heart clenched as he said it, and he turned to peruse the admiral’s globe so his expression would not betray him.

  “You have no plans at all? London is a fascinating city.”

  “I know.” John gave the globe a spin. “I spent much of my youth here.”

  “Was that before or after you eloped to Scotland?”

  “Both.” The edge to the word spoke volumes.

  “I’m sorry, John. I have marriage on my mind, I suppose. I know your past is not something you tend to discuss.”

  “Correct.”

  “So let’s talk about my past then.”

  John looked over at him. “Raventhorpe?”

  “Raventhorpe,” Samuel confirmed.

  John turned to face him, frowning. “Has our mutual enemy resurfaced already? I thought he was in France, waiting out the scandal from trying to abscond with your ex-fiancée.”

  “He is, as far as I know. But this is the bastard who left me for dead on a deserted island, then tried to steal Annabelle away from me. And that’s only a short list of his numerous offenses.”

  “I do not know how that snake always manages to slither away,” John said. “The people he has killed, the women he has sold into sexual slavery . . . How does he keep escaping punishment for his crimes?”

  “The devil watches after his own,” Samuel said.

  “Apparently so. At least Miss Bailey was smart enough to jilt the blackguard.”

  “And that’s the problem. Annabelle did jilt Raventhorpe, and he won’t forget that. But she also freed me from my betrothal to her so I could marry Cilla, something I can’t forget. She allowed me my heart’s desire, John, at personal sacrifice to herself.”

  “A noble act,” John agreed. “But you are correct. Raventhorpe will not allow her rejection of him and the ensuing scandal to go unpunished.”

  “That was my thought, as well. I think he might see my absence as an opportunity to strike back at her. He’ll think she is unprotected.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Which is why I need you to watch over her until I get back. He doesn’t know about you.”

  “True.”

  “And you did such a good job of staying out of sight—posing as my coachman, for God’s sake—that he has no idea you’re back in England.”

  “I did not pose. I was your coachman.”

  “As if anyone with eyes could not tell that you were born to be more.”

  “Leave it be, Samuel.”

  “Leave it?” Samuel stood. “Even though you never confided in me, I know you are more than the humble man you seem. Something happened that made you flee England, and you only came back here to help me stop Annabelle from marrying Raventhorpe.”

  “The past is done and gone, Samuel. Let us move forward into the future.”

  “Look, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and I want to respect your desire to stay in the shadows, but bloody hell, John, you wouldn’t even stand up for me at my wedding!”

  “Virgil Bailey did a good enough job of it.” Seeing Samuel’s impatience, John shook his head. They had been over this before. “It would have been my honor to stand up with you, Samuel, but it is better if no one notices me, especially those in positions of authority. And the front of a crowded church is hardly the best place to stay out of sight.”

  “I know that, blast you! But—”

  “Look, you asked me to guard Miss Bailey while you’re gone. Consider it done.”

  “I . . . oh. Well. Excellent then.” Samuel nodded and let the other matter drop, though not permanently if the stubborn set of his jaw was any indication. “I know I’m asking a lot, John. I wish I could think of another way.” He paused. “I could hire a security detail, I suppose—”

  “Except that Miss Bailey is an heiress. You need someone you can trust.”

  “Exactly. I trust you, John. Not only do you have a fortune of your own, but I don’t think Annabelle appeals to you that way.”

  “God, no. She’s a pretty girl, but I see her more as your little sister, not to mention your former fiancée. And as for the fortune—”

  Samuel scowled and folded his arms. “Don’t you dare tell me again that you don’t want the money, John. You spent your own savings to come and find me when Raventhorpe left me for dead. Fate was kind enough to hand us a pirate’s treasure in return, and you deserve half of it.”

  “As I started to say, I would be grateful for my share once we get back to America.”

  Samuel blinked. “Well, hell. What’s gotten into you today? I thought I would have to tie you down and shove the money down your throat.”

  “Maybe weddings make me sentimental.”

  “Oh, right. Certainly that must be it.” Samuel fixed him with blatant look of disbelief.

  “Leave off, Samuel,” John said, heading for the door. “You’re not my captain any longer. Or my employer for that matter since you no longer need a coachman.”

  “Then what the hell am I?”

  John stopped with his hand on the doorknob and met Samuel’s gaze. “My one true friend.”

  The anger fled Samuel’s expression like steam escaping a boiling pot. “I just want to help you,” he said.

  “I know. But some things are better left alone.”

  Samuel nodded. “All right. Thank you for protecting Annabelle while we’re gone.”

  “You are welcome.” John opened the door.

  “If it helps,” Samuel said, making John pause at his words, “the Baileys intend to leave London for Nevarton Chase tomorrow. So you’ll be out of the city and sequestered in happy obscurity in the country.”

  “Good news indeed.” John hesitated, then said, “Be happy Samuel. Enough for both of us.”

  He left the study, shutting the door before his friend could respond.

  Genny jerked free of Bradley’s hold and backed up a step, shaking off the nostalgia of the past. Bradley Overton did not like to lose, and she had bested him by breaking off their courtship last year. And as for the last time they had been alone together. . .

  She preferred not to relive the crowning jewel of her humiliation. That was the past. She was a different woman now. “Let me pass, Bradley. My parents will be missing me.”

  Bradley did not budge, his gaze intent like a spider with its prey. “Come now, Genny. Let’s not part in anger.”

  “Too late for that.” She tried to pass him again, but this time when he reached for her, she snatched up one of her mother’s cherub figurines from a nearby table and raised it like a weapon. “Touch me again, and your head will be ringing for weeks.”

  He slowly drew back his hand. “I suppose you are still overset about what happened between us.”

  “Overset!” Her voice ended on a squeak of outrage, and she forced herself to take a breath. “I am not overset. Overset would indicate that I cared anything for you or what you think. And that is just not true.”

  “Then why did you just threaten me with Cupid?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Perhaps you have heard my name recently linked with Miss Fitzwarren’s?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Maybe you are jealous. I know she is your friend.”

  “Hardly jealous,” Genny said, “but perhaps I should warn her of your talent for spinning falsehoods.”

  “The rumors are not true, you know. You are the only woman I have ever wanted to wed.”

  The knowledge that such an utterance would once have filled her heart with joy only added to the bitter taste of shame at her own naïveté. How could she have been so easily fooled by a charismatic smile and a few well-chosen words? Was she truly so gullible? So hungry for someone to love her that she would accept even this sham of the real thing?

  “Do you miss us, what we had?” He lowered his voice as he came closer, backing her into the corner between the door and the table. The scent of the cigars he favored filled the air between them. “I cannot forget, Genny, not any of it.”

&nb
sp; “I already have,” she lied.

  Anger flared in his eyes, and he grabbed her free arm, hauling her against him. “Now who is ‘spinning falsehoods’?”

  She swung the Cupid at his head, but he caught her wrist and squeezed. The figurine crashed to the floor.

  The door opened. Genny closed her eyes for a moment and imagined how it looked—her caught in a man’s arms, however unwillingly—and anticipated the social doom that was about to descend.

  “Miss Wallington-Willis,” a male voice said, “they are preparing to cut the cake.”

  She opened her eyes and found John Ready standing in the doorway like calmness personified. Tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and bearded, his very stillness should have acted as balm to her fractured composure, but those enigmatic eyes had always given her the impression they saw more than she would have liked. At that moment, his steady gaze fell on Bradley, who suddenly released her and stepped back, as if commanded by John’s look alone.

  She could not help but be impressed by this silent show of male power. John Ready was a mystery. He worked as a coachman but talked like a gentleman and held an odd place in Samuel’s household, more friend than employee. And had it been anyone else who had walked through that door, she would have been effusive in expressing her thanks. Yet all she could think as she moved away from her former suitor was why did it have to be himwho stumbled upon them?

  “Thank you, Mr. Ready,” she said, seeking comfort in protocol.

  He swung that unwavering, condemning gaze on her, chilling the warmth of any gratitude she harbored.

  “I will escort you back to the ballroom,” John said.

  Censure underscored the words, and she stiffened, stung by his quick judgment. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She arched her eyebrows at Bradley, who stepped aside so she could join John at the door.

  John swept his arm toward the hallway.

  She eased past him, so close that the tang of his cologne tingled her senses, her skirts brushing against his long legs. Dear Lord, she had never realized how very tall he was!

  Bradley apparently realized he had lost control of the situation. “Hold a moment! I said hold, Mister . . . er—”

  John stopped in the doorway and looked back at Bradley. “Do not leave this room for five minutes. There will be no scandal at this wedding.”

  Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but one hard look from John had him closing it again and nodding.

  John shut the door behind them as he and Genny left the sitting room.

  “Your timing was excellent,” Genny murmured, as John guided her back toward the reception.

  “I did this for your sister,” John said. “She does not deserve the scandal that would result if it got out her sister was consorting with a lover during her wedding breakfast.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “You are quite blunt, Mr. Ready.”

  “I just try to tell the truth.”

  “Then add this to your truth: I have no lover.”

  He slanted her an unreadable look. “Based on what I just witnessed, I find that hard to believe.”

  “Try,” she gritted through her teeth.

  “If that young man was not your lover, then why did I find you in his arms? Why did you not cry out for help?”

  Heat crept into her cheeks. “When you say it like that, it certainly sounds terrible. I was hiding from Bradley, not with him. He followed me.”

  “Perhaps it was prearranged.”

  She bit back a rude retort and tried for a reasonable tone. “I was almost engaged to Bradley, but our association ended last season. However, he apparently has not accepted our parting as well as I thought.”

  John stopped. “Is he making a nuisance of himself? “

  She halted as well, noting the warning tone of his voice, the tension of his stance. Here stood a man ready for battle. A tingle swept through her. Clearly, if he thought Bradley was bothering her, he would do something about it. Part of her wished she could allow him to defend her honor, but it would only make matters worse.

  She was wise enough now to handle her own problems. And she had no desire to be indebted to him, of all people. Not with his obviously poor opinion of her.

  “I have not seen him in nearly a year, and I did not know he was going to be here today. No one told me.” She pressed her lips together, still angry at the oversight.

  “I apologize for my conclusions. I thought this was an assignation.” He cast a narrow-eyed gaze down the hall. “I will go back and have a word with him.”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm, then dropped her hand when he raised his brows. “As I said, I have not seen him in over a year. I do not understand what he wants from me when our association has clearly ended.”

  John gave a hard chuckle and smoothed his sleeve. “He wants what every man wants.”

  She cast him a sharp glance. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know what I mean, Miss Wallington-Willis.” He gave her a quick assessment from head to toe that made her breath catch. She was still trying to calm her racing heart when he placed her hand on his arm and led her to the doors to the ballroom. “You are a beautiful woman, but you cannot play with men’s hearts like toys. One day you will flirt with the wrong gentleman and discover you have bitten off more than you can chew.”

  Genny stiffened, her cordial feelings toward him evaporating. “Are you saying I somehow gave Bradley the impression his attentions would be welcome?”

  “Men are easily dazzled by beautiful women. Perhaps you should be more conservative in your behavior toward the male sex.”

  She jerked her hand away from his arm. “You are very rude, John Ready. How dare you accuse me of being a . . . a . . .”

  “A flirt? Fast?”

  “And now you insult me. Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr. Ready, but I believe I can see myself back to the festivities.” She turned on her heel and marched back into the ballroom.

  John watched her go, a hint of her scent lingering in her wake. She was a handful, that one. Beautiful and spirited. At least he would soon be leaving for Nevarton Chase with the Baileys to watch over Annabelle. He would no longer have to associate with—or fight his attraction to—the distracting Genny Wallington-Willis.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want a woman in his life. Quite the contrary. But not someone like Genny. Not a woman with connections to the very life he’d abandoned, especially a flirt who appeared oblivious to the broken hearts she left in her wake.

  He could not help but wonder, had she been telling the truth about the young naval officer, or had she said that because she had been caught? If the fellow’s attentions had truly been unwelcome, why hadn’t she let John have a word with him?

  The entire situation brought back old memories he had managed to keep at bay until then. He knew well the games these coquettes played, and Genny Wallington-Willis seemed no different than any other. Better for all of them if he kept his distance from her and focused on what was important.

  With Samuel married to Cilla and Raventhorpe in retreat for the moment, he felt he was ready, for the first time in years, to pursue his own goals—but not in England. He would claim his half of the fortune he had discovered with Samuel and start a new life in America. He could have a wife, children. A home. Everything he had always dreamed about.

  No one was ever going to take that away from him again.

  “Oh, John, here you are.”

  He glanced down, surprised to see that the new Mrs. Breedlove had approached while he was watching her sister and was now standing in the doorway in front of him. The petite brunette looked stunning in white silk and lace with a wreath of orange blossoms in her dark hair. She smiled, and he caught the flash of a quick dimple in the corner of her mouth, a trait she shared with her sister, Genny.

  He gave a brief bow. “How may I be of service, Mrs. Breedlove?”

  She laughed. “Do be certain to call me that a few more times, John, so I can become accustome
d to it!” She stepped out into the hall with him and waved her hand to indicate he should join her out of sight of the doorway.

  He followed her, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

  “I only have a moment. We are getting ready to cut the cake, and once that happens, Samuel and I will be rushing off on our honeymoon. So this is the only time I can approach you to ask a terribly important favor.”

  “Of course. Anything I can do.”

  She clasped her hands together, her brown eyes full of apprehension. “I feel somewhat selfish asking this of you. After all, we are not family, though I know Samuel considers you closer than a brother. That would make you akin to my brother-in-law, correct? Family. And I am just so worried about her, John. Someone needs to look out for her while I am gone.”

  “Is this about—”

  “She is just so young, John,” Cilla plowed on, “and she thinks she knows the ways of the world, but she does not. I have tried to talk to her, but we have all been at sixes and sevens over the wedding preparations.”

  “I know. Samuel already—”

  “She is just so headstrong. So certain she knows how things work. But that is just not true, even if she refuses to believe it. And I simply cannot go off to my wedding trip without making certain someone will be watching over her, especially way off in the country at Nevarton Chase. She could get into all sorts of mischief there.”

  “Mrs. Breedlove.” John held up a hand when she paused for breath. “Have no fear. I have already discussed this with Samuel.”

  “You have?” She beamed, relief lighting her eyes. “I did not even share my concerns with him.”

  “He thought of it himself.”

  “Dear God, I have married the best man in the world.” She clapped her hands together. “Except for you, of course, John.”

  “Of course, except for me.” He grinned.

  “I cannot thank you enough!” A servant came into the hallway, caught her eye, and waved her back toward the ballroom. “I must go. You must have some cake, John. Say that you will.”

  “I will.”

  “Wonderful.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much, John. I cannot tell you how much easier I will rest knowing that you are looking out for my sister.” She turned and hurried toward the ballroom.