One Wicked Wish by Anna Campbell

Chapter 16

“Oh, my dear Lord!”

The violent tremble of Stella’s hand put her candle out. She sagged back against the wall, as her heart crashed against her ribs. “Imogen, what in blazes are you doing here?”

One hand clutched her throat. Her bare throat. She’d given up wearing her threadbare peignoir, and she was clad only in the revealing nightdress. A nightdress that had cost ten times as much as the rest of her wardrobe combined. Never had she cursed so bitterly Imogen’s assumption that she was free to wander in and out of Stella’s room without permission.

“I couldn’t sleep so I came in to see if you were awake, but you weren’t here.” Imogen sounded drowsy.

The fire provided enough light to reveal shapes but not much else. Stella heard her cousin fiddle with the tinderbox on the nightstand.

“Please don’t light a candle,” she said, even as she knew that she fought a losing battle. Once Imogen caught sight of her in this extravagant negligee and with her hair cascading around her shoulders, she’d know that Stella had been up to no good.

Except Imogen was no fool and must have already guessed that if her chaperone wasn’t sleeping in her own bed, it was likely that she slept in someone else’s.

Not that she and Gray had so far managed to do much sleeping.

Imogen ignored her, and flickering light bloomed. She raised the chamberstick to reveal Stella poised in guilty silence against the paneling. Even in the frail light, Stella saw her cousin’s eyes round in amazement.

“Goodness me, Stella, where have you been?” Her gaze sharpened. As Stella had predicted, the active brain inside that pretty head kicked into motion. “And where on earth did you get that nightdress?”

“Imogen…” she began, as she frantically cast around for some innocent explanation for leaving her bedroom in the middle of the night that also covered why she was dressed like an expensive courtesan.

Imogen shifted to the edge of the bed and set her bare feet on the floor. “I didn’t hear the door and it squeaks, so I should have. What’s been going on? How did you get all the way over there without disturbing me?”

Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold. The passage had been chilly but here in her bedroom, a fire kept the air warm. “You were asleep.”

“I was dozing, then I heard a click and I looked up and saw you. You appeared out of nowhere like a ghost.”

Stella tried to make light of her cousin’s suspicions. “I’m no ghost.”

Imogen rose and approached, lifting the candle to reveal Stella in all her tousled, sexually satiated glory. Her eyes narrowed and when she spoke, her voice held a hard edge that told Stella it was too late to rely on self-serving lies. Not that she was coming up with even a shred of a reason for her appearance, other than the shameful truth.

The game was without doubt up.

“No. You’re not a ghost. You’re a woman returning at dawn from a lover’s bed.” Stella winced, but couldn’t summon a denial. Imogen frowned as she contemplated the various possibilities. “Who is it? I can’t see you with Ivor or any of his friends. Or Lord Lumsden, who is famously devoted to his wife. Not to mention that you wouldn’t risk hurting Lady Lumsden. I know you like her. Lord Tierney is too old for you. So is Mr. Bilson.” Her frown intensified. “That only leaves…”

Stella reached out but let her hand fall to her side before she touched her cousin. “Imogen, don’t.”

It was too late. Imogen’s breath emerged in an explosive huff. She backed away and sank into one of the brocade chairs in front of the fire. With an unsteady hand, she set the chamberstick on a side table. “It’s Lord Halston, isn’t it?”

Stella swallowed, too upset to speak. She’d been in a state when she tore herself away from Gray. This unexpected confrontation with Imogen so soon afterward left her staggering.

Imogen didn’t wait for confirmation. Why would she? Stella feared the truth was written all over her face. She’d never been a good liar. Anyway Imogen knew her too well.

“I should have realized when I saw you dancing together.” Displeasure darkened her expression. “Lord Halston has been pursuing you this whole time, hasn’t he? The lilies were for you. And the note.”

To her mortification, he hadn’t had to pursue her too hard. “Yes,” Stella said in a whisper, as her grip tightened on the chamberstick.

While she was in Gray’s arms, she felt brave and free. This harrowing scene reminded her that the rest of the world would deride her as a round-heeled slut. Just another of Gray’s many conquests. The thought made her feel sick, although she’d always recognized that reality.

“And the house party. He didn’t ask us down to Prestwick Place because he’s going to offer for me. Papa had it wrong. Halston asked us here, he asked everyone here, because it was the only way he could have you to himself. It’s not about me. It was never about me. It was always about you.”

Stella swallowed again and forced the words out of her aching throat. “I’m sorry.”

A barbed silence fell, while Imogen studied her as if she’d never seen her before. After a while, Stella went on, her voice thick with regret for the pain she must be causing Imogen. “I know you like him. I hate to think that we’ve hurt you.”

She made her way to the other chair and sank down, her gaze never leaving her cousin’s pale face. She lit her chamberstick from Imogen’s and placed it on the table, too.

Imogen shook her head, as if Stella had said something inane. “I’m not hurt.”

Stella waved that away. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” To her relief, Imogen gave her a small smile. “He’s too old for me and too sophisticated and far too experienced.”

Despite everything, Stella felt a tinge of amusement when she imagined Gray’s reaction to that description, in particular the “too old” bit. “But you were so excited when he invited us to the country.”

Imogen shrugged, looking less appalled by the minute, thank goodness. “Anyone would be excited. He’s a leader of society. I was flattered when he singled me out. Anyway, I wanted to see the gardens. You know that.”

“Oh, Imogen,” Stella said, shaking her head. “So you hadn’t set your heart on marrying Gray?”

Imogen hesitated before she answered, and Stella realized how the use of Gray’s Christian name betrayed her intimacy with him. “No. But it was fun to be the girl who people said had captured the elusive earl’s heart, and it stopped Papa pushing me at Lord Chippenham.”

“Now, he really is too old for you.”

Imogen gave a theatrical shudder. “He’s too everything for me.” Her eyes sharpened again. “So you’ve been a fallen woman since we came here four days ago? Or did it start in London?”

Little did her cousin know that she’d been a fallen woman for years. Stella’s gesture conveyed embarrassment. “I shouldn’t talk to you about this.”

Imogen looked and sounded more like her old self. “I think you have to.”

Stella sighed. “Or what? You’ll tell your father?”

Temper flashed in Imogen’s eyes. “No, of course I won’t tell Papa. You know how he’d react. He’d throw you out to fend for yourself, which means I’d lose a friend and cousin I love. Give me a little credit.”

“It might be better if you do tell him.” Stella grimaced. “I’m not fit to be your chaperone.”

Imogen’s snort conveyed her disgust at that statement. “You’re still you. You haven’t murdered anyone. You’ve fallen for a rake’s wiles. To be honest, I can see the attraction. If Halston made any serious attempt to capture my interest, I couldn’t resist him either.”

Surprised, Stella regarded the cousin she’d always treated a little like an amusing child. Imogen’s reaction to her fall from grace displayed a maturity that caught her unawares.

Somewhere during this season, Imogen had grown up. No, the change was even more recent than that. Stella couldn’t see this girl playing the stupid trick with the note and the threatened elopement that had launched this whole series of events.

Imogen went on. “I suppose it all happened when I went to the wrong gazebo. Halston decided to chase you then. You were always so tight-lipped about what happened when you met him. I thought that was because you were angry with me.”

“I was,” Stella admitted. “But he said he’d noticed me before that.”

“How could he help it? You try so hard to fade into the background, but you’re not really a fading-into-the-background kind of woman. No wonder all those men who wanted to court you drove Papa to distraction.”

The shock that gripped Stella was strong enough to overtake even her constant interest in Gray. “What men?”

Imogen looked surprised. “You know. Of course you know. There were at least half a dozen gentlemen who applied to Papa for permission to pay their addresses. You remember how Mr. Lamb hung around last year. And there was Mr. Cramer and Sir Anthony Padstow. I forget the others.”

Outrage gathered inside Stella. “I had no idea.”

“Papa told me that you’d said you had no wish to marry and that you asked him to send them away.”

Stella made an impatient sound in her throat. “Does that sound like anything that I’d say to your father? Half the time, he can’t summon the courtesy to call me by name, let alone take my instructions about dismissing a suitor.”

Not just a suitor. Suitors.

It seemed that she’d had a chance to make a life and a home for herself, and her uncle had schemed to keep her as an unpaid dogsbody instead. Lady Lumsden’s umbrage on her behalf came back to her.

Imogen considered Stella’s response with a thoughtful frown. “Now you say that, it doesn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stella asked.

“You never mentioned it, so I assumed you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“So I’ve discovered.” She lifted her gaze. “But would you want to marry any of them?”

“I don’t know.” Stella spread her hands. “It might be preferable to living at Hamble Park as a despised charity case.”

Imogen stiffened. “I never treat you like that.”

She did, although from carelessness rather than spite. Imogen assumed that Stella existed for her convenience. While the girl was without doubt fond of her, she didn’t allow Stella much agency.

But what was the use of saying anything? “You’ve always been very kind.”

Painful knowledge descended until Imogen looked so dismayed that Stella wanted to hug her. “Oh, no, I do treat you like that. I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry. When you came to the house, Papa said you were to serve me and I was too selfish to realize how you must feel.”

“You were only a little girl.” Stella managed a smile. “You’re always much nicer to me than my uncle is.”

“That’s not saying much, though, is it?” Imogen’s distress didn’t ease. “I treat you as though you exist for my purposes alone.”

“It’s not that bad. You don’t need to wear sackcloth and ashes.”

But Imogen still stewed on her sins. “I should have noticed that you haven’t been yourself since we arrived. Since the Lumsden ball, in fact. I should have seen that Halston was no more interested in courting me than he was in sprouting wings and flying to St. Petersburg. I’m sure that’s why he came to meet me in the Lumsdens’ garden in the first place. He thought he could use me to get to you.”

Stella didn’t reply. What could she say? Imogen was right.

Imogen was still thinking. “He’s gone to an awful lot of fuss over you. Yet you’re not his usual style at all.”

“Imogen Ridley, how do you know about his usual style? I know everyone says he’s a rake, but I hoped that you remained innocent of the finer details.”

Imogen’s glance was unimpressed. “I know because people in London do nothing but gossip. And Lord Halston is always doing things that make people want to talk about him.”

Stella had a queasy feeling that was true. It was just another confirmation that so far, she’d been lucky to escape notice as Halston’s newest inamorata. Hiding an affair back in London would be impossible.

Imogen’s expression grew solemn. “I’d never imagined that you’d fall under his spell, though. You’ve always been so sensible and self-assured. I suppose you must love him.”

The frail net of illusion that had kept Stella’s world in one piece disintegrated. Since that heartbreaking conversation on their first night together, she and Gray hadn’t mentioned love. They’d certainly never mentioned love in connection with the voracious hunger that drew them together.

But of course she loved him. She’d fallen so fast and so headlong in love with him that now she feared she’d never break free.

After so long trapping the words inside her, it was almost a relief to say them aloud. Her voice was husky as she responded. “Yes, I love him.”

“So are you going to stay with him?” Imogen’s eyes were searching and full of an understanding that hadn’t been there a month ago.

To Stella’s surprise, she saw no condemnation. She’d broken every rule of their society, yet Imogen seemed to accept that she’d had no choice. Her cousin had become a stranger.

“No, the affair is over once we go back to Town.” Her voice was leaden with sorrow – and determination. So much had changed since she first went to Gray’s bed, yet in essentials, nothing had changed. She wasn’t made to be a man’s doxy.

Imogen made a distressed sound and rose to her feet. “Stella, you can’t mean that.”

“I have to mean it. He’d like the liaison to go on, but I’m not seeking a career as Lord Halston’s mistress. Our association finishes the day after tomorrow.”

Imogen fell to her knees in front of her and caught her hands. “But if you love him, how will you survive?”

Stella’s fingers curled around her cousin’s. Another change. It was more usual for Imogen to draw strength from her. “People don’t die of a broken heart.”

Imogen’s expression didn’t ease. “Not physically perhaps. Does he love you?”

“I doubt it. He’s not someone who deals in love.”

“Oh, Stella…”

Stella frowned, as she struggled not to break down. “Can we…can we talk about something else?”

Compassion filled Imogen’s eyes as they rested on her face. Stella was sure that she failed to hide how leaving Gray was going to destroy her.

At least Imogen cooperated with Stella’s request about changing the subject. “So tell me how you managed to appear like magic, when you didn’t come through the door.” She paused. “I can’t picture you flitting along the corridors, wearing nothing but that very fetching nightie.”

Stella, who despite her best efforts wasn’t far off crying, gave a choked gasp of laughter. “Isn’t it spectacular? Far and away the nicest piece of clothing I’ve ever owned. What a pity that nobody but you and Gray will get the chance to admire it.”

“You look wonderful in it. That color is just right.”

“Perhaps I should wear it to the Tierney ball.”

The ball took place late next week and was one of the highlights of the season. Stella bit back a whimper as she realized that she’d spend the night sitting with the duennas and watching Imogen dazzle the company. Worse, she’d watch Gray from a distance with the knowledge that she’d never again lie in his arms.

How could she bear it? Yet she must.

“I’d love that,” Imogen said. “The old tabbies would never call you dull again.”

Except that dull was the effect she aimed for. Stella must go on doing her best to avoid notice or she’d attract her uncle’s criticism. During these last few days, there had been so many joys. One of the greatest was that with Gray, she didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but her real self.

She’d spent ten years feeling like a steel cage constricted her chest. At Prestwick Place, she could breathe free at last.

Enduring the restrictions of life in London once more would be insupportable.

“There’s a secret passage that leads from this room to Gray’s.”

Imogen’s eyes widened and for a moment, she returned to being the girl Stella thought she knew, a creature of sudden enthusiasms and vivid imagination. “How exciting. Show me.”

“You must never tell anyone, promise me.”

“I promise.” Imogen was already on her feet and examining the paneling. “I can’t see anything.”

Stella rose and crossed to demonstrate the mechanism. When the door opened, Imogen stared down into the darkness with open-mouthed astonishment.

“So this is why Lord Halston gave you this luxurious room. It was nothing to do with being near me at all.”

Stella closed the door, worried that the sound of their voices might travel. “It leads behind the bedrooms on this floor, then a staircase goes up to the earl’s apartments.”

“It’s like a fairy tale.”

“I’m no princess,” she said with a hint of irritation.

Imogen smiled. “You can be Cinderella instead.”

“Don’t romanticize this, Imogen. I’m just one more of Lord Halston’s women. He’ll have forgotten me by next week.”

Would he forget her so fast? Before their affair started, she’d expected nothing else. But sometimes looking deep into his eyes as his body claimed hers, she didn’t know where she ended and he started. She caught sight of something that told her he, too, felt the bond that drew them together. “In this particular story, I won’t be marrying the handsome prince.”

Imogen turned and caught her hand. “He is handsome, though, isn’t he? I vow the first time we danced together, I couldn’t put two words together.”

“Never,” Stella said with mock amazement. Imogen had always been a chatterbox.

Imogen’s gaze grew intent. Once that mightn’t have worried Stella too much, but now she feared that her cousin saw the devastation beneath her thin veneer of composure.

“You know, you mightn’t be Cinderella,” Imogen said thoughtfully. “But I’ll wager Mamma’s pearls that you’re behind the rumor that Prestwick Place has rats.”