One Wicked Wish by Anna Campbell

Chapter 3

“Lord Halston has called, my lady.”

At the butler’s announcement from the doorway to the crowded room, Stella’s head jerked up from where she bent over her embroidery.

She’d spent all morning in a strange, jittery mood. Despite not getting home until after two, she’d had trouble sleeping. That encounter with a roué had been enough to set her wanton blood rushing in a way it hadn’t since her last meeting with Niccolo ten years ago. She’d hoped that time might blunt her powerful response to a handsome man. Yet it seemed that when temptation was strong enough, she was as susceptible as ever.

This afternoon, Imogen was at home to callers, and the drawing room was heaving with giggly young girls, not to mention an assortment of older women. Mothers. Aunts. Godmothers. The occasional chaperone like Stella. A few older brothers were also present, having escorted their sisters.

Stella only realized when she heard his name that she’d been awaiting Halston’s next move. Whatever reassurances she’d given herself last night, she’d known there would be one. Wondering how he meant to proceed had left her in horrid suspense.

A reverberant silence descended upon the largely feminine crowd. Everyone present was respectable, and any potential suitors were younger and less jaded than Lord Halston. The unexpected arrival of a man of his reputation would cause talk.

Given that Halston possessed both a great name and a substantial fortune, and that he was yet to choose his countess, gossip would focus on whether he’d found a wife at last in Imogen Ridley.

“Please show his lordship in,” Imogen said, looking very bright-eyed. She’d know just what a compliment this was and how it would enhance her standing. Halston’s call was the final accolade to confirm Imogen’s social success.

His lordship strolled in, looking as spectacular as ever. He didn’t glance at Stella on her chair near the fire. It was a warm, unobtrusive corner, and she’d spent far too long in it this afternoon, letting the conversation wash over her while her mind dwelled on notorious lords.

He bowed to Imogen and raised her hand to his lips. “I’m delighted that we were introduced at last, Lady Imogen. I’ve admired you from afar since your arrival in London. I’m just sorry that my injury makes dancing impossible at present.”

Introduced? Stella had missed that. It must have happened when she accompanied Harriet to the retiring room to help repair a torn hem.

Interesting that Imogen hadn’t told her. Her eyes sharpened on her cousin who sat a couple of chairs away. The girl looked dazzled. And dazzling.

Last night, Stella had wondered if some gentleman had caught Imogen’s interest. What a fool she was not to count Halston as a potential husband. He was well past the age where he was due to find a chatelaine for what was reported to be a magnificent estate in Buckinghamshire. And Imogen was without doubt eligible.

Imogen said that she’d chosen Halston for her scandalous rendezvous because of his bad reputation. Now, looking at them together, Stella couldn’t help wondering if she’d also chosen him because she harbored a penchant for him.

He was too old for her, Stella’s heart keened, as her hands clenched around her embroidery frame. Although he wasn’t. He must be fifteen years younger than Lord Chippenham, and considerably more vigorous. Nor was he at all starchy.

Any girl would consider Halston an appealing suitor, despite his taste for wayward women. Lord Deerforth would find nothing to object to in such a match. He sought a son-in-law with money and influence. Halston had both. The Prince Regent was reported to adore him.

What a crown a marriage to Halston would place on Imogen’s season. It would be accounted a triumph. While Halston gained a pretty wife with a loving heart and a sparkling personality. Why the devil wouldn’t he court Imogen?

Except he’s mine,Stella’s lonely heart cried. Except he spoke to me last night as if we met soul to soul. Except he said that he wanted me.

Could he be so depraved as to scheme to wed the earl’s daughter and seduce her humble companion at the same time? Growing up on the back streets of Naples, Stella had seen wickedness that would make the angels weep. Men without care or conscience in regard to money or power or women. As she’d said to Halston, evil men lurked in all stations, from the poorest laborer to the richest aristocrat.

Halston was reputed to be a devil with the ladies. But last night, he hadn’t seemed so lost to goodness as that. When he’d expressed an interest in Stella, he’d seemed honest.

He’d seemed honest?What a nitwit she was. She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the world. Of course, he sounded honest. The best liars always did.

“Thank you for the gorgeous flowers,” Imogen said, with a flutter of the eyelashes that she’d learned since she left Gloucestershire.

Flowers? That made his intentions toward Imogen clear. As happened after every ball, the house was inundated with floral tributes from Imogen’s dancing partners. Stella had stopped paying much attention.

“You knew they were for you?”

“I don’t think you’d send lilies to my father and address the card ‘To a fair stranger.’”

His brief grunt of amusement was so familiar from last night, when he’d seemed to hang on Stella’s every word. Just as he hung now on Imogen’s.

The deceitful swine. How he must have snickered at Stella’s gullibility. Although there was some consolation in remembering that she hadn’t offered him much encouragement. With luck, he had no idea how powerfully she was drawn to him.

Stella glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed her startled reaction to Halston’s arrival. But who would be interested in a mere companion when Imogen and Lord Halston offered such rich pickings for tattle? The guests who had been due to go because they’d used up their half hour made no attempt to move on. And there was little conversation, as dozens of ears pricked up to catch every word of Imogen’s dealings with the earl.

“No, I doubt that Lord Deerforth would appreciate such a tribute.”

The edge of excitement in Imogen’s giggle made Stella wince. Had she sounded quite so beguiled in the gazebo? She had a sick feeling that she had. “No, I don’t think he would.”

“I saw his lordship at his club this morning and obtained his permission for you to attend a small house party at my estate in Buckinghamshire at the end of the week. Unfortunately, he’s detained with political business and won’t be able to come to Prestwick Place, but I’ll do my best to entertain you in his absence. I hope these arrangements meet with your approval.”

“Oh!”

This time attention focused on Stella, who to her mortification went as red as a beetroot. Her finger stung like blazes and had started to bleed. She’d dug the needle in hard. But this invitation to Halston’s house was a particular mark of favor that could very well be the prelude to a marriage proposal.

“Miss Faulkner, are you unwell?” Halston asked, taking a step toward her.

“I stuck myself with a needle, my lord.” She surged to her feet and spoke in a rush that she regretted at once. If only she could sound cool and composed.

What she wanted most of all was a moment’s privacy to tell him that he was a lying toad for saying he wasn’t interested in Imogen. But she wasn’t likely to get that any time soon.

She struggled to steady her voice. “No real harm done.”

“Stella, you poor thing. You’re bleeding all over your lovely embroidery, too,” Imogen said, dashing over to take her injured hand. “I’ll ring for a maid to attend you.”

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine. Really it’s nothing. Really.” The curious stares were making her skin crawl. “I’ll go upstairs and wash it.”

Halston withdrew a white linen handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. “Here.”

She broke free of Imogen and accepted the handkerchief with a shaky curtsy and a reluctance that she was sure he noted. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Give me that embroidery,” Imogen said, leaving Stella free to wrap Halston’s handkerchief around her bleeding finger.

“May I help you to the stairs?” he asked.

“It’s not serious, my lord.” She kept avoiding his eyes. Oh, how she’d like to tell him just what she thought of him, but she was too aware of the audience for their small drama. “Please don’t let me interrupt your visit.”

“It’s no trouble.”

At last, she sent him a quick look that she hoped conveyed her utter contempt for his machinations. Even if she wasn’t suffering a painful dose of pique, she knew Imogen deserved better than this deceitful snake.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question that he must know she couldn’t answer here. Much as she’d dearly love to tell him just how much she detested his double dealing.

“Let me offer my arm.”

Over his shoulder, she saw faces turned in their direction. Although she was sure that the interest still focused on Imogen and Halston, rather than a nonentity of a companion. Any further objections from her, though, might change that.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said between her teeth.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Imogen said from beside Halston. Stella had to admit that they looked wonderful together.

“Please don’t spoil your callers’ time here.” Her hand was stinging, but nowhere near as much as her pride was. “I’ll come down the minute that I’ve put a bandage on it. It’s almost stopped bleeding.”

She wasn’t a naïve ingenue like Imogen, with no experience of men and their tricks. Yet somehow she’d taken one look at Lord Halston and every scrap of good sense had flown away to far Cathay.

Halston curled his hand around her arm. “Come, Miss Faulkner.”

Heat sizzled through her. She raised startled eyes to his, for a fleeting instant forgetting her resentment. And any curious observers.

Stella only took an instant to recover, but the sensation had been strong enough to make her fear his power over her. Even worse, something in those glittering eyes told her that he, too, felt the searing connection.

He’d never touched her before. Last night in the gazebo, despite the tension crackling between them, he hadn’t laid a hand on her.

She wanted to snap at him to let her go, but a poor relation didn’t order a peer of the realm around. When she lurched forward, her unsteadiness had nothing to do with her minor injury.

As she stumbled, his grip tightened. Her heart galloped so fast that she felt light-headed. For pity’s sake, she needed to get away before she made a complete fool of herself.

Damn Halston. And she damned herself, too. Why did her good sense and her sensual inclinations have to be at war over the sweet-tongued swine?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Imogen place the ruined embroidery on the chair Stella had vacated. She also noted the way that every woman in the room watched Halston as he escorted Stella toward the door. He was one of those men women couldn’t help noticing.

Noticing? Gossip granted him conquests from John o’Groat’s to Land’s End. He was accounted irresistible, the scoundrel.

Well, she meant to resist. If he thought to fulfill his contemptible plan to have both cousins under his thrall, she intended to thwart him.

“You can let me go now,” she muttered, as they reached the empty hall outside the drawing room.

He ignored her. She’d known he would. Deciding that she despised him didn’t alter her affinity with him. Last night, she’d felt as if they communicated with more than words. She still felt like that. Another rake’s trick.

“I need to see you,” he said in a low voice.

“No, you don’t,” she replied in a snarl, and this time when she tried to get away, he let her go. “Go back inside to my cousin before you cause any more talk.”

The gathering comprehension in his expression had her going red again. Because however much she wished it otherwise, if she heard the note of jealousy, so did he. “By God, you can’t think…”

To her relief, Frederick, one of the footmen, appeared at that moment. He cast them a glance, but at least his presence saved her from further conversation with Halston.

“Thank you for your help, my lord,” she said in a carrying voice. “I’m fine to go upstairs without assistance.”

His narrow-eyed attention warned her that he wasn’t finished with her, but he stepped back and bowed. “I hope your hand gives you no more trouble.”

She hoped that he gave her no more trouble, but she wouldn’t lay money on it. His jaw was set with a masculine resolve that told her this matter was far from closed. Which was rich, when he was flirting with Imogen and inviting her to his house and sending her flowers.

“I’m sure it won’t.”

Walking away was harder than it should have been, but Stella managed it and made her way up the stairs without a backward glance. She felt Lord Halston watching every step she made. Or at least she thought she did. When she turned at the top landing, the hall below contained neither Frederick nor her bugbear.

Plague take Halston, he was turning her into a complete ninny. And she had days of his company ahead, unless she came up with some excuse not to accompany Imogen to Prestwick Place. The bleak truth was that as a lowly servant, whether related to the family or not, she didn’t have the luxury of refusing to go.

Only when she gained the sanctuary of her narrow, spartan room next to Imogen’s more opulent apartments did she realize that she still clutched Lord Halston’s handkerchief, sadly bloodstained now, in her good hand.