Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers
16
There she was. His little pigeon.
Archie Runyon stood just inside the entryway watching in anticipation, as Alexandra and her uncle entered his beloved Jeanette’s ballroom. Lord Burke he dismissed with distaste. But Alexandra. Pale and fragile as one of his cousin’s beloved roses, she glided towards him. Her dark curls gleamed like a bolt of sable silk in the candlelight. Her manner demure and unassuming. The dark gray silk of her gown clung tightly to her generous breasts while the overskirt of silver floated around her hips. The effect was of Alexandra gliding through a cloud of mysterious mist. Lovely. His gaze ran to the press of her breasts against the bodice of the gown and his mouth watered. Soon.
“Miss Dunforth, my dove, at last you have arrived.” He walked forward, clasping her hands in his own.
He noted with distaste that he could feel the iciness of her hands even through the beautiful handmade gloves he’d gifted her with.
Alexandra watched him with detachment. The pupils of her gray eyes were enlarged. This would never do. How much laudanum had she been fed? He glared at Burke.
“Lord Burke. It is only two hours ride from London to Gray Covington. I have been awaiting my fiancée. Impatiently.”
Burke flushed at the censorious tone. “Business, Runyon. My apologies.”
Archie turned back to Alexandra. “My dove, do you approve of your room? I requested that particular room as it is down the hall from my own. I hoped you would enjoy the view of the gardens. And it is in the family wing. After all, tonight you become my family.”
Alexandra murmured a polite reply. Her hands slid from his and hung limply at her side. Good Lord! She looked about to slump to the floor in a stupor. Damn Burke.
“Come.” He took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. Archie made a determined effort to control his anger. He had warned Burke about giving Alexandra too much laudanum. Apparently, Burke had ignored Archie’s instructions. He would make sure the fat man paid later for his blatant disobedience. “I must introduce you and your uncle to my beloved cousin.” He cast a look at Burke. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to meet you.”
Burke tried to hide his fear and failed.
Archie was sure that Burke would much rather run all the way back to London than face Jeanette Reynolds. The man looked like a fattened pig, about to meet its fate with the butcher.
Lord Burke’s steps faltered. He nodded grimly to Archie. “Yes. Of course.”
Archie gave Burke a satisfied smile and turned towards his cousin, not waiting to see if Burke would follow. Burke would. Archie owned Burke and his debts.
Archie led Alexandra through the gathered crowd, ignoring the stares of the curious, and the rudely raised eyebrows as they passed. Cretins! Once his estrangement from his father was ended, he and Jeanette would make every gossiping twit in this ballroom pay for the manner in which he was regarded. He made mental notes of who pointed at him from behind fans and whispered behind gloved hands. Once his father welcomed Archie back, and the old codger would once he saw Alexandra, Archie’s social standing would be reinstated.
Archie beamed in appreciation as he spied his cousin.
Jeanette’s glorious wheat-colored hair sparkled in the candles. Brilliants twinkled at her temples. The tiny crystals were also sewn into her midnight-blue gown, the color of which matched the hangings in the room to perfection. She looked like a fairy princess come to life and walking among the lesser folk. No, Archie thought, a human star, a goddess sparkling amongst the dull women of the ton. His heart lurched. He and Jeanette would have done well as man and wife. But Jeanette deserved far better than to be the wife of a third son. He only wished she had found a duke to marry. Or a prince. Not Robert the Rotten.
“My dear Marchioness.” Heads turned to watch him and Jeanette.
“Dearest?” Jeanette swung around at the sound of his voice, completely dismissing Countess Rutherford. The glacial gaze fixated on Alexandra for a brief moment, then a stunning smile crossed her face, making her shine as if she were the sun. A light floral scent floated to his nostrils as she moved to take his hands.
Archie disengaged Alexandra’s hand from his arm to press a kiss against his cousin’s cheek. He bowed and made a sweeping gesture towards Alexandra.
“Lady Cambourne, may I present Miss Alexandra Dunforth.”
Alexandra lowered her eyes. She dipped into a perfect curtsy.
Archie was beside himself. Exquisite. He thought of having her half-naked as he forced her to curtsey to him in the evenings. The breaking of Alexandra filled him with anticipation.
“Greetings, Miss Dunforth. It is so lovely to see you again.” Jeanette’s words held just a note of distaste.
Alexandra paled, the first sign of emotion since she walked through the doors of Gray Covington. She shot Archie a nervous look from beneath her lashes.
Archie smoothed down the ends of his mustache, enjoying her obvious discomfort. Silly pigeon. He knew everything she said or did. He knew she went to tea with the Dowager and to the Royal Exhibition with Miranda. He cataloged her every move.
“Felicitations on your birthday, my lady.” Alexandra’s voice was low and polite. Respectful. “It is a great honor to attend this occasion.”
Jeanette raised an eyebrow while her gaze ran over Alexandra in an attempt to find some insolence or incorrectness in Alexandra’s tone.
Archie’s chest burst with pride. His dove was perfect.
“A pretty speech, Miss Dunforth.” Jeanette turned to Archie, her face relaxing into affection. “How are you this evening, my beloved cousin? I am so thrilled that you are here with me on this important occasion. I could not imagine celebrating without you.” She kissed him on both cheeks, making sure everyone saw.
Everyone.
* * *
Sutton watchedthe scene before him. Archie and Jeanette fawning over each other made him slightly ill. The memory of that long-ago day, of what he’d witnessed, had dimmed with time, but it was clear enough. His gaze ran to Alexandra. She looked pale and delicate in a diaphanous gray gown. Demure. Quiet. Sutton frowned. Quite unlike his Badger. Though she wasn’t his at all, it seemed. He considered killing Archie immediately. The man certainly deserved it.
“Your gaze will drill holes through her.” The Dowager stomped her cane, as she leaned in next to him.
“Jeanette? I wouldn’t do that to her guests. Evil would spill out of her as if she were a sieve, crashing down in a flood infecting her guests.”
“Tsk. Obtuse as always. I was speaking of Miss Dunforth.” The Dowager pointed with the end of her cane as Alexandra dipped low to pay homage to Jeanette.
“Why would I stare at Archie’s betrothed? I’ve no interest in the girl other than that she is a friend of Miranda’s and should know better than to marry Archie Runyon.”
“Pish! You are deliberately trying to irritate me, Sutton. Your interest in her is marked and remarked upon,” the Dowager stated mysteriously.
“Really? Miss Dunforth is a spinster from Hampshire and a bit long in the tooth. She is engaged to a man I consider the vilest human being in the world. Why would I give a fig for her?”
“I should hit you with my cane. It may knock some sense into you. I have paraded every eligible virgin of the ton before you. I have looked the other way at your scandalous behavior with the multitude of women who seem to be enamored of your looks.” The Dowager pointed her cane at Jeanette Reynolds. “I have tolerated your lack of ability to dispose of her out of some misbegotten sense of responsibility and duty to your sisters and the reputation of Cambourne. Or perhaps you still seek her love.”
Sutton shot his grandmother a disgusted look. “That boy is dead.”
“I miss him. He was sweet and scholarly. I failed him.” Her gray head dipped.
Exasperated, Sutton touched her hand. “Rainha, please.” He gave her an imploring look. “Get to the point.”
“The point? You want Miss Dunforth.”
Sutton sucked in his breath. “She is betrothed to Archie. Nothing short of ruination will break a betrothal. Whether I want Miss Dunforth or not is inconsequential.”
The Dowager peered at him in a calculating manner. “Just so.”
What was his grandmother up to?
“I will see you in a bit, Rainha. I need something stronger if I am to tolerate this evening.” He kissed her cheek and headed into the depths of Gray Covington in search of some good French brandy or some of his father’s whiskey. Anything to ease the sight of the Badger on Archie’s arm.
* * *
Mr. Runyon eruptedinto shrill gales of laughter as Lady Cambourne whispered into his ear. Two identical stares of icy blue pierced Alexandra and she had the distinct impression the laughter was at her expense. She didn’t care. She wanted nothing more than to drink a cup of Tilda’s tea and get away from this teeming mass of people. Alexandra longed to sit somewhere dark and quiet where no one would bother her. Odious Oliver disappeared immediately after greeting Lady Cambourne, no doubt en route to the gaming tables. Alexandra wondered if her uncle would return without his cufflinks, for she doubted any of the Dunforth money still existed.
“Sit here, dear one. I am going to play cards.” Mr. Runyon’s silken words interrupted her thoughts. He firmly deposited her on a divan situated in a dim alcove.
Two giant potted ferns flanked the divan, no doubt her only companions for this evening. That suited her perfectly. Would anyone mind if she lay down? The divan was surprisingly soft.
“Alexandra?” Mr. Runyon snapped his fingers before her nose.
Why didn’t he just go away? She had performed to his expectations. He’d paraded her about the room. She’d curtsied to his beloved cousin. Now all she wanted was to be left alone, to nurse her wounds and perhaps get a glance of Sutton.
“Yes. I shall sit just here.” Alexandra nodded as the crowd swirled about her.
He frowned, putting deep creases in his forehead. Did her obedience delight or irritate him? She thought it the latter. She didn’t care.
“Hmm.” He stroked the ends of his mustache. Alexandra noted that his hair curled a bit farther on the right side. Why had she never noticed the bald spot?
“See that you do. Sit here. I shall return in time for our announcement. After we enjoy everyone’s good wishes, you and I will be the first into the midnight buffet, directly behind Lady Cambourne. We are to be seated next to her. I hope you appreciate the honor my cousin bestows upon us.”
Yes, the great honor being given to poor, spinsterish Alexandra Dunforth. Mutiny flared briefly but faded just as quickly. What did it matter?
“Yes, of course,” she murmured.
Appeased, he squeezed her hands and strode in the direction of the gaming tables. She folded her hands into her lap and decided to spend the entire evening watching the colorfully clad ladies of the ton and their doting escorts. Now that she had been properly introduced, not one person expressed any inclination to speak to her. She stared into the crowd. The incessant chatter and music now that she was no longer in the midst of it, soothed her nerves.
“Alexandra?”
She jolted upright. Had she dozed?
Miranda appeared before her, looking like a fairy princess in a light green silk gown that matched her eyes. Miranda was so beautiful, just like her brother. Alexandra’s heart hurt. Now that having him was out of the question, she missed Lord Cambourne. Dreadfully.
“Alexandra? What is wrong with you?” Dark curls dangled at Miranda’s temple as she tilted her head to peer at Alexandra. She waved her fingers in front of Alexandra’s face. “Are you foxed?”
“No. I’m fine. My head aches a bit from the excitement. I just need some of my special tea.” She had in fact, drunk an entire flask of tea before the ball to steady her nerves. But she wanted more. “I am nervous about the announcement of my betrothal. It’s to be tonight.” Silently Alexandra wished Sutton to appear. She smiled to herself, imagining the earring swinging jauntily from his ear. He would lean in and-.
“Alexandra?” Miranda moved her face inches from Alexandra’s nose.
“Miranda, whatever are you doing?” Alexandra giggled. “Are you going to kiss me?”
Miranda sat back. Her lovely face bore an odd look. “The betrothal is to be announced tonight? Here? Damn.”
Alexandra giggled again. “Miranda, such unladylike language. This is not a Lord Thurston novel.”
Miranda stood and clasped Alexandra’s hand. “I have to go speak to my grandmother, but will return to collect you promptly. Do not move from this spot.”
Alexandra nodded dully. “Everyone wishes me to stay just here.” She patted the cushions of the divan.
* * *
Miranda pushedthrough the crowd of toadying sycophants that filled the ballroom of Gray Covington. All here to pay glory to the Marchioness of Cambourne. Her mother. Her lying, deceitful mother. It almost felt as if Gray Covington was being tarnished with the presence of her mother and Cousin Archie. Miranda’s father would most certainly not approve.
While she didn’t know the exact details of Archie Runyon’s banishment to the Continent, Miranda knew it involved her younger sister, Elizabeth. Archie had been at Cambourne House that night with her mother. Miranda had gone to bed but could hear her parents raised voices. She’d come down the stairs and watched in horror as her father hit Jeanette across the face. Mother’s head had snapped back before she collapsed sobbing against the wall. Then Father raced out the door, calling for his coach.
Miranda scanned the crowd for either her grandmother or Sutton. The pure fright of that horrible evening washed over her. She remembered seeing the blood on her father’s hands upon his return to Cambourne House. He’d beaten Archie Runyon nearly to death. She recalled that her father sent out several letters that night and locked Mother in her chambers. Miranda could still see Father, pale and shaking as he buttered his toast at breakfast while not meeting her eyes. He collapsed before the footman poured his tea. But most of what Miranda remembered was her mother’s smug, self-satisfied smile while Father lay dying. A smile that disappeared once Sutton returned to London only days before Father’s death.
“Lady Miranda! How lovely you look, why-”
Miranda brushed by Lord Jacobi without a second glance.
She wished with all her heart that her father was still alive. How was it that he died, yet the viper known to the ton as Jeanette Reynolds still lived? And now Archie was back. And he was betrothed to Miss Dunforth. The Dowager confided her suspicions to Miranda and warned her to watch Alexandra closely. She had searched the ballroom relentlessly for Alexandra, only to find her dozing on a divan in a dark corner. Alexandra’s movements were slow, her speech stilted. Laudanum. Grandmother, as usual, was correct.
Miranda saw Zander, the head butler of Gray Covington, bustling about in the shadows. She must find her grandmother. Miranda realized as she looked over her shoulder to see Alexandra wilting against the couch, that the scheme Grandmother concocted should be implemented immediately. Miranda waved a gloved hand at Zander to get his attention and marched forward. He would know where to find her grandmother.
