A Wicked Kind of Husband

by Mia Vincy

  “I shan’t come running and I shan’t seek your advice, so you need not concern yourself with that,” Cassandra said, more sharply than she had ever spoken to her grandmother before. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she had allowed Joshua to influence her more than she realized. She opened her mouth to apologize, but her grandmother had already turned back to Lucy.

  “Then I shall concern myself with you. Come along, Lucy, my dear. We shall have to turn London upside down to get you ready in time. Good day, Cassandra.”

  The duchess swept out, with Lucy at her heels. At the door, Lucy twisted around and poked out her tongue, before she flounced out.

  Cassandra found Emily in the upstairs parlor she shared with Lucy, in quiet conversation with Mr. Newell, a Shakespeare volume on her lap. When Cassandra came in, Emily fell silent, looking sulkily at her book. Mr. Newell hovered awkwardly.

  “Emily,” Cassandra said. “I know you’re—”

  “A is for Apple. B is for Ball. C is for Can’t Hear You.”

  “Emily, please listen.”

  “Not now. I’m learning how to read. As I am only a child. In the schoolroom.”

  “We must keep the duchess happy, for Lucy’s sake. I am sorry she was rude to you.”

  “D is for Door. E is for Exit. F is for Find Your Own Way Out, Now, Dear.”

  “It’s Lucy’s turn, and in a few years—”

  “You’ll get rid of me too, the same way you’re trying to get rid of Lucy. You want us both gone so you can lord it over Sunne Park all by yourself.”

  Cassandra slapped the book in Emily’s lap. Emily’s chin jerked up. “You can’t have it both ways,” Cassandra snapped. “One day you say I’m locking you both in, the next that I’m kicking you both out.”

  “G is for Go To. H is for Hell.”

  “Emily!”

  “It’s all right, Mrs. DeWitt.” Emily yanked the book away and shuffled back. “I shall stay locked up in the nursery, while Lucy goes out with the duchess to get a ballgown, and Lucy goes out with Isaac to talk to witnesses, and Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.”

  “It used to be like that for me, too, with Miranda, always taking the attention. But you can—”

  “I don’t care. I’m not like you.”

  Then the full meaning of Emily’s words hit her. “What do you mean, Lucy went out with Isaac to talk to witnesses?”

  “I is for I Don’t Care. J is for Jump Off A Bridge.”

  Cassandra sighed. “Em. Listen. Maybe later we can go somewhere, perhaps to Astley’s Amphitheatre.”

  “Mr. Newell can take me. You’re too busy, always so busy, running the household or fighting with Lucy or going off with your friends. K is for Killjoy. L is for Leave Me Alone.”

  “If you want to be treated like an adult, Emily, start behaving like one.”

  “N is for No I Don’t Want To Talk To You Right Now.”

  “You forgot M,” Cassandra said, giving up. She had no idea what else to say or what she was doing wrong.

  She looked at Mr. Newell, who wore the pained “please let me turn into a chair now” expression he often wore when caught in their arguments. “If we might have a word outside?” she said.

  Out in the hallway, Cassandra closed the door to the parlor. Immediately came a sound that was suspiciously like a book hitting the door.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. DeWitt,” Mr. Newell said. “I know Miss Lucy ought not have gone out with Mr. Isaac, but she insisted and she can be…willful.”

  Cassandra sighed. She would have to talk with Isaac. And he might be with Joshua, for at least Joshua was talking to him now, and she would very much like to be with Joshua. Oh, for night time to come faster. To be in the dark, in that warm bed with their bodies wrapped around each other and the rest of the world forgotten.

  “It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” she said. “You are my secretary, not their governess. But I can hire a governess for Emily now that Lucy will stay with our grandmother and cannot drive anyone away. If you could place some advertisements and speak to the agencies, I shall ask the other ladies if they can recommend someone.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I shall start today.”

  “Poor Mr. Newell. I have embroiled you in our family matters, while taking you from your own family for too long.”

  “Mrs. Newell understands. She has hopes of a holiday by the seaside in summer…but perhaps this is not the best time to mention that.”

  “This is the perfect time to mention that. For I need your help desperately and would grant you any wish at all. Take your family to the seaside for a month, and Mr. DeWitt will give you a bonus.”

  Mr. Newell smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. DeWitt. I apologize also for mentioning my friend at the theater. But Emily does so love drama, and she writes such witty plays. Perhaps someone—not an actress, mind you—but someone who understands theater could also make a good governess. Merely a suggestion.”

  What was the right thing to do? Whatever she did, she always ended up getting it wrong. Joshua would say that respectability did not matter, that he would buy respectability for Emily. Cassandra was more interested in buying her little sister happiness, before Emily turned bitter and faded away.

  “A good suggestion,” she conceded. “So long as Emily doesn’t actually mean to be an actress. She is too young and anxious for her age and…”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, Mrs. DeWitt, I think Emily is frightened of losing everyone.”

  Oh my dear Em, that’s what I fear too. Cassandra swallowed away the lump in her throat. Why did she not know how to talk to Emily? Every day she conversed with scores of people, but she could not talk to her own sister. But since Papa had died, Cassandra had been so busy, running the estate and the household and changing the garden and naming the pigs and a thousand other things.

  Busy? Heavens, now she sounded like Joshua or her grandmother. But she had been busy. And the busier the better, so she would not think about Papa and Mama and Charlie and all that had been lost. Perhaps that was why Lucy and Emily resented her.

  She patted Mr. Newell’s arm. “I shall find a way to fix this, and I apologize for upsetting you,” she said. “So far this morning, I have upset two sisters, one grandmother, and a secretary. Now I shall scold Isaac, which will upset him, and if Joshua is there, I will no doubt end up upsetting him too, after which I can congratulate myself on a day well spent.”

  Chapter 20

  Joshua sat at his desk, meaningless numbers dancing before his eyes, and cursed himself for not doing business outside the house again today. His uncharacteristically wayward mind was too aware that Cassandra was at home too, and kept returning to the interesting question of whether he could talk her into bed.

  He had just reached the conclusion that he must try or he would get nothing done—and really, in this state, tupping his wife was a matter of efficiency—when she opened the door and came in.

  “No wonder you keep running off to the City,” she said, leaning against his chair and threading her fingers through his hair. He slipped an arm around her waist. “It’s a wonder you can hear yourself think in this noise. And here I am, interrupting you again.”

  “I might be able to find some use for you.” He let his hand wander meaningfully over her bottom. She giggled and half-heartedly slapped him away.

  “Not now,” she said. “I need to find Isaac.”

  “You do not need to find Isaac. You need to lock the door and get onto my desk so I can have my way with you.”

  “Hush. I will not.”

  “Fine. Leave the door unlocked, but don’t complain to me when the servants see you with your skirts—”

  “Hush.” She covered his mouth with her hand, and he grinned and nipped at her fingers. “You must not make such indecent proposals.”

  “My proposal was perfectly decent,” he protested. “You’re the one who proposed we make love in broad daylight with the doors unlocked.”

  “I never…Oh, you are terrible,” she said, but sh
e kissed him anyway, then pulled away and sat against the desk. “Isaac took Lucy out to meet the witnesses.”

  “And? He was probably only trying to keep her out of trouble.”

  “By taking her to rough parts of London to meet liars and engage in threats and bribery? How is that keeping her out of trouble?”

  “Ah, good point. I’ll talk to him. And as for you, now that you have interrupted me…”

  He slid her sideways, caged her against the desk, and kissed her.

  “Joshua. We cannot do that here, and I must go out. You will have to wait.”

  “No. Can’t wait. I want you too much to concentrate, so if you leave me wanting, my businesses will fail, and then I would have no money and no work.”

  “But you would have plenty of time to…to…”

  “What? What?”

  “To…You know.”

  “Say it.” He lowered his head, slid a hand up her thigh, and whispered in her ear. “Be wicked and say it and maybe I’ll let you go.”

  “You’re teasing me again. Behave.”

  “If you want me to behave, what is my inducement?”

  The moment he said the word, he remembered her promise from the night of the rout, and saw in her face that she remembered it too. It seemed a lifetime ago now, but the memory rose between them, and sweet mercy, he wasn’t going to get any work done. He had never asked that of her again, and had not intended to. But he could still tease her; she did not seem to mind his teasing now.

  “You owe me,” he reminded her. “Time to settle your debt, Mrs. DeWitt.”

  Her blush deepened. “Maybe I will. Later.”

  Sweet mercy. Let later be now.

  “Although,” she added, “that doesn’t make babies.”

  And whoosh. His desire washed away, leaving bitter disappointment in its wake. Because it was still all about babies for her. There was no mistaking her desire for him, but in the end, she would leave him as cheerfully as he would leave her.

  Good. That was what they had agreed. She would make no fuss. Excellent.

  “Of course.” He stood and pulled away, turning his back on her to adjust his clothing and his face. “You need all the seed you can get before this nonsense ends and you go back to Warwickshire.”

  He risked a glance at her, and scowled at her small, polite smile. He did not know what it meant and he could not ask her, because some things he did not want to know.

  “I’ll talk to Isaac,” he said and made for the door. At the door, he stopped and turned back to say something more, but he didn’t know what that was, so he left.

  How irritating that he was now Cassandra’s messenger boy, as well as her stud, Joshua grumbled to himself as he went in search of Isaac. Good to see he was so bloody useful to his wife.

  He found his brother in the stables, saddling a horse, apparently under instruction from one of the grooms.

  “What in blazes are you doing?” Joshua asked him.

  “Re-learning horses,” Isaac said. “Last time I rode, I was nine, and now I’ve forgotten half of it and have a gammy leg besides. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Be my guest.” He glanced at the groom, who melted away. “Cassandra doesn’t like that you took Lucy to visit the witnesses.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Lucy is a genteel lady, and genteel ladies are meant to be accomplished at dancing and watercolors, not bribery and intimidation.”

  “Shame, because she is very good at them,” Isaac said. “You did say to use whatever works, and they would have said anything to make her happy.”

  “Bloody hell, I don’t have to worry about you with her, do I?”

  “Never fear.” Isaac laughed. “My sense of self-preservation is far too strong for that. But I had to do something with her. She gets that look in her eye, like she’s planning to burn down the house.”

  “I know the look. But listen. Isaac. Society: It has rules. Lots of them. Stupid rules, but if you get them wrong, you can upset everything.”

  By “everything” he meant “Cassandra.” He had never cared about the stupid rules before she came along.

  “Have you managed to locate Buchanan yet?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Isaac brightened. “Yes. The muttonhead confessed. Said he stole your documents because Lord B. offered him a piece of the winnings.” His mouth twisted. “And a piece of Lady B., too, if I understood correctly. For a man who’s suing you for adultery…but maybe it’s not adultery if the husband watches.” Isaac let out a long, low whistle. “I saw some things in the Navy, but I tell you, it’s nothing to what the fancy folk get up to.”

  Joshua snorted. “Lord and Lady B. can do whatever they want with whomever they want, but I wish they’d bloody well leave me out of it.”

  “And you can bloody well leave me out of it too,” came the voice of a third man.

  The horse threw up its head and whinnied, and Isaac and Joshua turned to see their father, the Earl of Treyford, marching into the stable yard, brandishing a walking stick at them like a sword.

  “What in blazes are you doing here?” Joshua said.

  “I demand that you stop your wife from writing to my wife,” Treyford said. “Whatever trouble you’re in, it’s not my business.”

  “Make it your business, you selfish shuffler,” Joshua snapped. “And if my wife writes to your wife, your wife should bloody well have the courtesy to write back.”

  “Is that him?” Isaac said.

  “That’s him.”

  Treyford glared at Isaac. “Whoever you are, get out of my conversation with my son.”

  Isaac’s head jerked back. “I’m your son too. Isaac.”

  Their father looked momentarily perplexed, but quickly recovered. “Get away with you. I don’t need another one hanging around.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Isaac said. “Each time you see us, you’re reminded of your own shame.”

  “Well said, brother,” Joshua said, his anger fading. His mood lifted further when Lord Hothead’s color rose.

  “It was a mistake,” Treyford snapped. “And the two of you have turned out all right, so I hardly see what you have to complain about.”

  “Three,” said Isaac.

  “Three what?”

  “You have three sons from your not-marriage to our mother,” Joshua explained. “No wonder you have difficulty keeping track of your wives, when you can’t even keep track of your children.”

  “Maybe you should hire a secretary to help him,” Isaac suggested. “Secretary In Charge of Reminding The Earl How Many Children And Wives He Has.”

  “Excellent idea. Each morning at breakfast, the fellow will walk in and say, ‘This is your daily reminder that you are married and must not get married again.’”

  “And that you have this number of children and please do not make any more unwanted children.”

  “Pair of bloody wits, aren’t you?” Treyford said. “And I know there were three of you and the other one is in India, doing well for himself, and he cannot complain either.”

  “What about Miriam?” asked Isaac. Again, Treyford looked blank. “You don’t even who that is, do you?” Isaac’s own color rose and he twirled his stick in the air. Tempers ran in the family, it seemed. “Our sister, your daughter. She’d be eighteen now and not one of us would recognize her on the street. If she’s even alive.”

  Treyford twirled his own stick. “It was her mother’s decision to take her away. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Where are they, our mother and sister?”

  “Isaac, let it rest,” Joshua said.

  Too late.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” the earl ranted. “Deborah was upset, she took the girl and left. She had money and all her jewels. What was I to do? The mistake had been made and the most important thing was to protect the title.”

  “‘The mistake had been made’,” Isaac repeated, his face screwed up in disgust.

  Money, bloody money. Joshu
a had more of his father in him than he realized, and certainly more than he wanted.

  “You’ll never change, will you?” Joshua said quietly. “You’ll never understand what it was that you did.”

  “You’re judging me? Me, your own father, and you with this sordid matter with Bolderwood.”

  “Pack of lies,” Joshua said. “The witnesses have admitted to being paid for false testimony, a former secretary has confessed to stealing my personal letters, and over the next few days, I’ll secure alibis for all the so-called trysts. After which, Bolderwood will be laughed out of court and out of town. And everyone will know that he’s a liar, and they’ll also know that my own father would not speak in my defense.”

  “Why should I? You don’t deserve that.”

  “But my wife does. So why don’t you do something decent for once in your life and show the world where you stand?”

  Treyford scowled at him, paced around, then came back and nudged Joshua’s chest with his walking stick. “If I speak up for you, tell all my circle that Bolderwood is lying to get money out of you—you and your wife will stay away from the countess and me. We want nothing to do with either of you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “And get back to Birmingham where you belong. Good day.”

  With that, the earl marched off.

  Isaac stared after him. “He would have preferred to put us in a sack and drown us like kittens, wouldn’t he?” he said. “So much for family. Well, when I find Mother and Miriam, we’ll have a family again.”

  Joshua winced. Poor, hopeful Isaac. “Forget about them,” he said. “Our family finished years ago. We have no mother, we have no sister—”

  “And no brothers either.”

  For a long moment, neither spoke, then Isaac turned back to the horse. “I guess I’ll go too. Get my own rooms. Get a horse and ride around Britain.”

  Fine. Let him go again. Isaac had left before, he would leave again, and Joshua had lived happily without his brothers for half his life so he had no use for them now. Cassandra and her sisters would go back to Warwickshire, and Isaac would go off to wherever he wanted, and Joshua could get back to Birmingham where he belonged.