Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

20

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sutton advanced on the Badger who steadfastly ignored him. He settled himself next to her small form on the sofa.

Alexandra’s gaze remained fixed on the wine swirling in her glass.

“Badger.” He took her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. She exhaled at his touch and a light, sweet smell filtered to him. The scent, familiar, but out of place. Not the aroma of the madeira. The smell reminded Sutton of his time in Macao.

Sutton peered into her eyes. Alexandra’s pupils, large and unfocused, gave her the appearance of a curious owl. Two glasses of wine had not caused such an effect. Sutton’s pulse quickened. Opium wasn’t readily available in London, but laudanum was prescribed for every woman with a mild complaint.

The headaches. She mentioned headaches.

Sutton grimaced. That bastard not only threatened the Badger but drugged her as well. Sutton added this to the ever-increasing list of reasons to kill Archie Runyon.

Alexandra bit her lip and a small sob escaped her. “I thank you for your assistance tonight, Lord Cambourne, but I can see that I disgust you.”

“Shush. Stop, my Badger. You do not disgust me.”

Her eyes, glazed with laudanum and wine, filled with tears. “You mustn’t call me that.” A shaky hand set down the glass of wine.

“Why ever not?” Sutton rubbed his thumb over her swollen lower lip. Just touching her made every nerve in his body tingle. His want of Alexandra blunted nearly everything else in his life.

Her hands fluttered in her lap. She tried to turn her head and avoid his stare, but he didn’t allow her to move away. Lightly, he brushed his lips over hers.

The Badger moaned softly. Her body leaned towards him.

Sutton shot a glance at the door, just in time to see it swing shut. No doubt Harry followed the Dowager’s instructions.

Sutton pressed soft kisses over Alexandra’s temple and down to her ear, pausing to nibble at the lobe.

She placed her palms against his thighs. “Sutton,” she whispered against his mouth.

Gently, he pressed his lips to hers. His heart beat erratically, as if this were the first girl he’d kissed. The kiss became urgent, possessive. He should stop. Guiltily, he knew Alexandra would take exception to being manipulated, even if she was willing. Even if it saved her from marrying Runyon.

Her hands kneaded his thighs. Alexandra’s body became fluid as she molded herself to him.

He pressed her back into the couch until she lay underneath him. He half straddled her, one leg on the floor, the other pinning her small body down. The wispy lace of her skirt tore further as he moved his knee.

“Oh, no!” Her eyelids fluttered open. “This is the finest gown I have ever owned. I wanted you to see me in it. To see me for once as not a dull country girl.”

“I find you beautiful in it and you are the furthest thing from dull.” He answered the question he saw in her face. “My Badger.”

Her arms wound around his neck. She smiled. Her hips moved underneath the layers of silk and petticoats.

Sutton’s hand roamed over her bodice. He circled the tiny nub of nipple through the silk, massaging it until it hardened into a peak. Softly, he pinched the peak.

Alexandra flinched. Her eyes flew open.

Thinking he’d hurt her, Sutton moved his hand away.

“No.” She took his hand. “He…I’m,” Alexandra’s face reddened, “bruised.” She gave him an apologetic half smile.

Sutton swore under his breath. “He will never touch you again.”

“You can’t promise that.” She closed her eyes with a small sob.

It occurred to Sutton at that moment that Alexandra truly had no idea she was about to be publicly ruined at his hands.

Voices sounded outside the door. Sutton heard Harry denying someone entry.

His lips lingered against the milky flesh of Alexandra’s breasts.

“Try to remember how much I want you, as I’ve no doubt you will want to kill me after this,” he whispered into her ear. “Forgive me. There was no other way.” He pressed his face into the nape of her neck, inhaling the smell of tart, green apples. He pulled her bodice down farther.

The door burst open. Sutton looked up, covering Alexandra with his arm. He hoped he appeared to be surprised.

The Dowager wore a smug, satisfied smile.

Lady Cambourne stared at their prone bodies with horror.

Archie Runyon howled with impotent rage.

* * *

Alexandra was jerkedbehind Sutton’s larger form as the room erupted around her. Guests milled about the hallway outside the door in curiosity, each trying to catch a glimpse of the disgraced Alexandra Dunforth. Mr. Runyon would never marry her now. She nearly fainted the relief was so intense. Then fear enveloped her. Helmsby Abbey. My God, what had she done?

“You!” Mr. Runyon rushed at Sutton. “I should call you out for this insult. How dare you.” Mr. Runyon’s angry words sounded in a whine.

“Then why don’t you?” Sutton answered. “Come on, Archie. I’m sure Jeanette would stand as your second.”

A collective gasp came from the crowd outside.

Jeanette, her porcelain skin blotchy with anger, screamed commands to Harry and Zander, who ran to the door. “Direct my guests back to the ballroom. Immediately.” She stabbed a terrified Harry with her index finger. “You will never work for any family again. Pack your bags. No references.”

The Dowager pushed her cane between Jeanette and Harry. “I don’t think so. Harry is under my protection and that of the Marquess of Cambourne.” She smiled at the footman. “Run along to the kitchens, Harry, and get yourself something to eat.”

Jeanette bared her teeth at the Dowager. “You did this. I should have known. It has all the hallmarks of an addled, elderly-”

“Stop there, Mother.”

Jeanette closed her mouth at the tone of utter command in her stepson’s voice. Her chest heaved in fury.

Alexandra peered around Sutton’s chest.

Mr. Runyon’s face, a bright shade of red, gave him the appearance of an enraged tomato. His slender form vibrated with rage. The pale blue eyes were filled with the promise of retribution as he glared at Alexandra.

“No.” Odious Oliver stood to one side of the door, clutching his chest.

Alexandra wondered idly if her uncle would have a fit of apoplexy.

Jeanette watched Sutton with a look of utter hatred on her face before she turned to the Dowager. “You planned this,” she hissed with certainty.

The Dowager stood calmly amid the chaos, one silver brow raised in question. She barely glanced at Alexandra. “Really, Jeanette, you can’t think I would ever sanction such debauchery.” Looking towards Sutton, she composed her face into a mask of offense. “This is quite uncalled for, Lord Cambourne. Especially during Lady Cambourne’s birthday celebration. Well, there’s no help for it. You’ll have to do the honorable thing.”

Jeanette paled. She marched to the doors of the parlor and slammed them shut.

Mr. Runyon snapped at Alexandra from across the room. “I suppose Jameson will walk the streets tonight. How will he support his ill wife?”

“No!” Alexandra whispered from behind Sutton.

Sutton turned to look down at her. “I will not allow that to happen. Please trust me.”

Alexandra put her hands over her face, terrified at the chaos erupting around her.

Jeanette bore down on she and Sutton like a crazed harpy. “Over my dead body will I allow this…this…harlot, who betrayed my cousin’s good faith and honor, to become a member of my family.”

Sutton laughed at her. “Honor? Oh, that’s rich.”

Jeanette’s face mottled and her eyes bugged.

Sutton stepped away from Alexandra ready to do battle with his stepmother and Archie.

Alexandra slid from his side to sit on the couch hugging herself. What have I done?I’ve betrayed those who depended on me. Her head was throbbing unbearably as if it would split open at any moment.

A low growl sounded behind her. A beefy hand caught underneath her arm and attempted to pull her over the couch. Odious Oliver, his eyes bulging with hatred, gave Alexandra’s hair a brutal wrench.

Pins fell to the floor as her uncle gripped the mass of curls and shook Alexandra as a dog would a rabbit.

“You whore.” Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth. “Just like your mother, aren’t you? You are going to fix this. You will marry Runyon. Beg for his forgiveness.”

Miranda cried in alarm from across the room.

Every eye in the room turned to Alexandra’s position on the couch.

Sutton spun about, returning to the couch so quickly Alexandra barely saw him move. The grip on Alexandra’s hair was suddenly released as Odious Oliver flew through the air, landing with a thud. Several knickknacks unaccustomed to being rattled from their perch, fell to the floor and shattered.

Miranda came over to wrap Alexandra safely within her arms. She whispered into Alexandra’s hair. “I’m so sorry. We didn’t think it would be quite so…dramatic. My poor, dear friend.”

Alexandra, still in shock from her uncle’s attack, reeled with the implications of Miranda’s words. Miranda and the Dowager…planned to have her ruined. Alexandra stiffened as Miranda hugged her. Was she nothing but a pawn in everyone’s plans? To be used at their will?

Sutton sauntered over to Odious Oliver who lay mewling like an injured animal. Blood poured from his broken nose. Sutton nudged him with his foot. “Get out of my house. Now.”

“I won’t agree to this marriage! I am her guardian! She’s to marry Runyon. She has to marry Runyon.” Her uncle whined and shook his head erratically. Drops of blood rained across the Dowager’s perfect parlor.

“Marry? Why, I wouldn’t take this little tramp out to tea now that he’s had her,” Mr. Runyon sneered. He walked jerkily over to her uncle’s prostrate form on the floor. “The deal is off. The betrothal is broken. The entire ton will be afire with the gossip of this scandal by tomorrow.” Mr. Runyon’s words sounded like shards of ice dropping on marble. “My solicitor will call upon you tomorrow, Lord Burke, to discuss the payment of the debt owed to me.”

Her uncle wailed as if he’d been stabbed.

Mr. Runyon turned to her, and Alexandra immediately hid her face in Miranda’s shoulder, desperate to avoid his glacial stare.

Sutton’s large form blocked his path.

Mr. Runyon chuckled, holding up his hands, all signs of his earlier anger, gone. “Don’t worry, Cam, I’m leaving.”

“See that you do. There is an inn not too far away that you can stay at tonight, as you will not spend another night under my roof. Tomorrow, you can escort my stepmother back to London.”

Jeanette gasped. “But my party! My guests!”

“Your guests are no doubt running to their carriages in a race to see who will make it to London first. They have gossip to spread. You wished for your party to be talked about for months. Now I’m sure it will be.”

Jeanette’s fragile grip on her emotions shattered. She ran at Sutton, her hands up, prepared to claw his face with her nails. “I hate you! How dare you do this to me. Why couldn’t you have died in Macao?”

Mr. Runyon grabbed her around the waist. He smoothed her hair and whispered into her ear. “Come, cousin, do not waste your time on him.”

Sutton regarded his stepmother as if she were no more than an insect in his path. A muscle ticked in his jaw, the only sign that her words affected him. “Good evening, Jeanette.”

Jeanette gave a dramatic wail and leaned against Mr. Runyon as she allowed him to lead her out the door. “I will never forgive you, Sutton. Never. You will pay for this.”

Mr. Runyon stopped abruptly. He swiveled his head to look directly at Alexandra. “I’ll see you soon, Alexandra.” A malicious smile graced the thin lips. Then he was gone.

Sutton turned to Zander. “Please dispose of this.” Sutton jerked a thumb towards her uncle who lay sobbing and bleeding over the carpet. “Make sure that his valet and Miss Dunforth’s maid are packed off as well. Immediately.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Zander snapped his fingers and two large footmen appeared. “Please escort Lord Burke to his rooms and stay with him until he is packed. See that his valet and Miss Dunforth’s maid go with him.”

The two footmen reached for Odious Oliver as he swatted ineffectually against their hands.

“No! She has to marry Runyon! She must!” He put his head in his hands. “I shall punish you for this Alexandra. You tedious little twit.”

Sutton brushed aside the two footmen and wrenched her uncle up. “Have a care for the way you address the future Marchioness of Cambourne,” he snarled. With one push he shoved her uncle towards the footmen. “Get him off my property.”

Odious Oliver clawed at the footmen who restrained him. He sobbed and wailed. Alexandra watched in relief as the two footmen escorted her uncle from her sight. Sutton’s words sank in. The future Marchioness of Cambourne? She disengaged Miranda’s arms from around her waist. She remembered Miranda’s guilty look.

“Thank goodness that is over,” the Dowager intoned. “Sutton, the vicar of Covington owes me a favor. I’m sure he will be able to provide you with a special license.”

“Stop it!”

The Dowager looked from Sutton to Alexandra.

“Does no one care what I wish for? What I want my future to hold?” Alexandra’s head ached. Her heart hurt. Manipulated, first by her uncle and Runyon, now by the Dowager and Miranda. And Sutton? Had he been manipulated as well? Did he even truly want her?

The Dowager reached out and took Alexandra’s hand. She squeezed gently.

Alexandra tried to pull away, but the Dowager’s grip was surprisingly strong. “Sutton, why don’t you and Miranda begin the arduous process of dismissing our guests? Ensure the viper is gone from Gray Covington. Miss Dunforth and I have things we need to discuss.”

Sutton’s gaze slid over Alexandra, his eyes unreadable. What was he thinking?

He nodded to his grandmother. “As you wish, Rainha.”

“Alexandra,” Miranda gave her an apologetic look, “I am sorry for the circumstances but not the outcome.”

Miranda and Sutton walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“My lady,” Alexandra stammered. “The preceding events have left me much distressed. If I could just lie down for a moment and catch my breath. Surely this conversation can wait until later. After I’ve had some tea.”

“And allow you time to flee the premises with some ridiculous notion that you can find employment?”

Alexandra felt the guilty flush in her cheeks.

“I think not. Besides, you have an addiction to laudanum in case you have not noticed. You will need to be weaned.” At Alexandra’s look of surprised indignation, she said, “The tea, Alexandra. Have you not noticed the way it makes you feel? For such an intelligent girl you allowed yourself to be manipulated quite readily.”

The Dowager hobbled over to the couch, frowning as she saw the tiny blood splatters left by Odious Oliver. “I shall have to have this couch re-covered. I doubt I can replace the pattern.” She swung her cane, pointing at Alexandra. “Sit. I promise you will not be forced to marry if you truly do not wish it. I feel it my duty, however, to apprise you of your current situation.”

Alexandra looked into the calculating green eyes of the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne and sat.