Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

19

Aquarter of an hour. That was all the time given Alexandra before she must put herself back in that monster’s hands. She looked down at the floor, contemplating her fate, wishing the ache in her head did not match the one in her heart. The gray silk of her skirts brushed against Sutton’s long legs as he walked her down the hall. Warmth from the large body next to her seemed to waft underneath the gown, comforting her. Calming her. She was safe for the moment. Mr. Runyon’s words shouted inside her head. The vile words, threatening all she held dear if she did not return to him. Thinking of what Mr. Runyon would do to her, she stumbled.

Sutton caught her arm in a firm grip. Still, he said nothing.

A lump caught in her throat. Sutton rescued her, but not out of affection. He saw her as a responsibility, where once he desired her. Alexandra glanced from underneath her lashes to look at his profile. The dark locks of his hair fell forward across his cheekbones, the ends curling around the edges of his collar. The smell of cinnamon, exotic and sensual, buffeted around her. The need Alexandra felt for this man, this intense yearning, was beyond her comprehension.

And I will never have him.

She looked back down at the floor, desolate. Sutton was lost to her. Her association with Mr. Runyon sufficiently snuffed out any feeling Sutton may have once had. She belonged to Mr. Runyon now.

The hand clutching Sutton’s sleeve shook with emotion.

Harry stood guard outside a paneled door. The young footman greeted Sutton with a bow before glancing curiously at Alexandra. He discreetly turned his eyes from her disheveled state and tapped at the door with his knuckles before giving Sutton entry.

Sutton pushed her forward with a gentle hand.

Had Alexandra been in a different frame of mind she would have marveled over the lovely little parlor. The walls, painted a light cream, were stenciled with flowers, bees, dragonflies, and other woodland creatures. Soothing and tranquil, the parlor’s atmosphere was a balm to her jarred nerves. She desperately wished for a pot of her special tea.

Miranda and the Dowager sat on a green velvet couch embroidered with butterflies. Their heads were bent together. Surprised by her appearance and on Sutton’s arm, they looked askance.

Miranda shot her a guilty look before turning her attention to Sutton.

Alexandra’s mind played tricks on her, for what did Miranda have to feel guilty about?

“Alexandra? Whatever are you doing here?” Miranda’s eyes widened as she took in Alexandra’s agitated state and the torn gown.

The Dowager, her surprise now under control, merely lifted a brow.

“I tore my gown.” Alexandra muttered stupidly. “I tripped. Lord Cambourne happened upon me and offered to escort me here in the hopes a maid could be found to repair the damage. I beg your pardon for disturbing you both.” The words came out in a rush. Alexandra felt her cheeks flame as the lie rolled off her tongue.

The Dowager turned her gaze on Sutton.

“Yes, my grandson seems to ever be happening upon you, Miss Dunforth.” Her tone was crisp. “I find it fascinating.” She cleared her throat. “Why has your betrothed allowed you to roam without escort? Perhaps Miss Dunforth, you have had a change of heart?”

The Dowager stared her down until Alexandra wisely looked away.

“I could not remember where the room set aside for the female guests was located so-”

The Dowager lifted a gloved hand, effectively halting Alexandra’s pathetic explanation and gave a small snort. Her emerald-green gaze pierced Alexandra.

“I can see you need a refreshment. Tearing one’s gown, accidentally, can be very traumatic, especially since your betrothal shall be announced shortly. I see the thought of becoming betrothed, and your gown in such a state, has caused you to weep.” The Dowager gestured to Alexandra’s tear-stained cheeks. She patted a spot on the couch next to her. “The madeira is excellent.”

Trembling and trying to maintain what composure she had left, Alexandra gingerly perched on the edge of the sofa.

The Dowager handed Alexandra a glass filled with a dark, ruby-colored liquid. “Drink up. It will restore you.” The elderly woman watched as Alexandra took several sips of the wine.

Alexandra closed her eyes in pleasure as the warmth of the wine spilled through her veins. She did not wish to imagine what awaited her after she left the safety of the Dowager’s parlor. Responsibility warred with self-preservation, causing her mind to reel with panic. Her hand shook as she pressed the wine to her lips again. What am I to do?

“Sutton, have you congratulated Miss Dunforth on her impending nuptials?”

Alexandra choked. The wine sloshed in her glass. The Dowager seemed determined to work Alexandra’s fate into every sentence.

Sutton gave his grandmother an appraising look and spoke quietly. “What are you about, Rainha?”

“I’ll not tolerate such tone from you, Sutton.” The Dowager pursed her lips in disapproval. “I am still your elder and deserving of your respect. Miranda.”

Miranda, her eyes wide and unsure, watched the exchange between her brother and her grandmother in growing alarm. “Yes, Grandmother?”

“Please escort me to my room. I fear I am near collapse from exhaustion. You will send a maid to Miss Dunforth immediately, then return to escort her to the ballroom once repair is made to her gown. Understood?” She turned to Sutton. “Act the gentleman for once. I insist you stay with Miss Dunforth until the maid arrives, and Miranda returns. Miss Dunforth’s safety is your responsibility.”

Sutton opened his mouth to interrupt.

“Silence! I will not argue with you this evening. Disrespectful scamp.” The Dowager stomped her cane at Miranda. “Come take my arm.”

Miranda, still wearing a look of confusion at her grandmother’s antics, steered the elderly woman to the door.

“Harry!”

“Yes, my lady.” The young footman’s head popped from around the door.

“Lord Cambourne will await the arrival of a maid to repair Miss Dunforth’s gown. The door should stay open, with you just outside, to ensure no impropriety occurs.”

Alexandra drained her glass of Madeira. A feeling of euphoria washed over her. She would be with Sutton until the maid arrived! The wine gave her a light, fluffy feeling.

“Grandmother, I really think-” Miranda tried to interject.

“Be quiet, Miranda. After you send the maid, be a dear and let Archie know where he can find his betrothed.”

Alexandra thought she had at least ten more minutes before she had to face the nightmare of her impending marriage. She poured herself more madeira.

* * *

Sutton stoodin stunned silence as his grandmother made a most dramatic exit. She left him alone with Alexandra. The Dowager was no fool. She’d plied Alexandra with wine, calming the Badger until the anxious look her features bore had disappeared. Then, pretending to be affronted and outraged by Sutton’s actions, she’d stormed out like an offended queen and instructed a footman to guard Miss Dunforth’s virtue. Ridiculous. The centerpiece, of course, was the Dowager’s instruction to make sure Archie knew where to find his betrothed. His grandmother had ensured Alexandra’s ruination at the hands of Satan Reynolds. The scandal would be enormous. However, Alexandra’s betrothal would be broken. The Badger would belong to him.