Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

22

“May I come in?”

Sutton glanced up, surprised to see Alex and not the maid coming to clean the study. Alex was the last person he expected to see. He refused to marry her without her consent, no matter the scandal. Her words the night of her ruination pained him. Alex had the right to chose her own destiny, even if that destiny did not include Sutton.

The Badger hid well within the walls of Gray Covington. Since the disastrous night of his stepmother’s birthday ball, he’d seen little of her. The Dowager, taking charge as few generals could, oversaw Alexandra’s weaning from laudanum assisted by her handpicked physician, whose discretion was assured by the power and wealth of the Cambourne family.

His stepmother’s return to London had been achieved with little fanfare. Jeanette said nothing as she left Gray Covington, but her icy glance spoke volumes. Her resistance to his marriage to Alexandra was evident in the toss of her head as she climbed into the Cambourne carriage. Correspondence from London assured Sutton that the scandal of Alexandra’s ruination had not died down. No great scandal had erupted to replace it. Thinly veiled references to Satan Reynolds and the spinster he ruined graced the London papers. Why, the rumors demanded, had no marriage yet taken place? Why was the Dowager Marchioness and Lady Miranda still in residence? The betting book at White’s was full of odds on whether Sutton would actually marry Miss Dunforth.

“Hello, Badger.” Sutton pushed back from the stack of papers that littered the gnarled walnut desk, laying down the letter he had been reading. The letter, from Lord Bishop, relayed the details of an expedition being mounted to explore a region of the Asian peninsula near Macao. Lord Bishop wished Sutton to lead the expedition. His answer would depend on the Badger.

“You cannot think of another way to address me? Must I always be a small and smelly creature?”

Sutton’s mouth quirked, happiness filling him at the tartness of her tone.

“We must talk.” She marched to the desk, demanding his attention in her prickly way.

He forced his features into a polite mask of curiosity, not willing to let her see how pleased he was to see her. Joyful was a better word to describe the sudden beating of his heart.

He was not pleased to see that she continued to twist her gorgeous mass of hair into a hideous bun that would make an elderly matron jealous. Not a curl so much as ventured from the tightly wound ball at her neck. Her gown, plain blue and bereft of adornment would be much more fitting for a governess. He preferred her in dark, vibrant colors and made a mental note to order her a new wardrobe no matter what she decided. A gray shawl hung about her shoulders, shielding the Badger’s overabundance of bosom from his eager gaze. He wondered if Alexandra deliberately tried to make herself appear unattractive as a means to antagonize him. Perhaps he should tell her that the prim, dull appearance she adored cultivating did not deter him, and in fact, made him want her more. Sutton grinned.

The Badger backed up, not caring for his grin. She cleared her throat and placed her hands on her stomach, as if he irritated her so much she might become ill.

He quirked a brow and waited for her to speak. Had she come to tell him she would not marry him? That she would rather be a pariah? Sutton should take her on the desk right now, several times, until she became big with child. Badgers cannot flee when they are large and pregnant. The idea appealed to him.

Alexandra backed up another step and gave him an uncertain look. Then she lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his.

“Please sit, Miss Dunforth. You seem… unsettled.”

She glared at him. Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “No, thank you.”

Good. He much preferred her annoyed than the awful wraith she had been the night of the ball.

“I need to know. Why?”

“Why what?” He knew what she asked.

She turned her head away. “Did you do it only to save me from Runyon? If so, then I refuse to hold you to this absurd assumption that we must marry.”

“Already your ruination at my hands is the talk of London.”

“I will not return to London. I hate London.”

“You cannot return to Helmsby Abbey. It’s been sold.”

Alexandra gave him an awkward look but said nothing. Her hands nested together. She took a shaky breath and looked directly at him. “I don’t wish you to marry me out of duty.”

“Then what do you wish to be married for?” he asked softly as he stood and moved until he stood before her.

The Badger bit her bottom lip. Her delicious plump bottom lip. She looked down at the floor, as if suddenly enthralled by the swirling pattern of thistles that edged the rug.

His fingertips grazed her chin, forcing it up. Her skin felt like silk. A tremor ran through her body as he touched her.

“For myself.” She shot him a defiant look.

“Then we have that in common.” He brushed his lips against hers.

Her gray eyes, flickering like opals, gave him a guarded look. “Tell me you did not do it just to save me.”

“I am not that honorable. I would not marry a woman I didn’t want, especially if I haven’t had the pleasure of ruining her.”

Alexandra sucked in her breath. Her hands moved nervously at her sides.

“Put your arms around my waist,” he commanded her.

“You do not need to be so…so…”

“Domineering? Arrogant? Full of myself?”

She struggled not to smile. “I was going to say overbearing.”

Gently, he took her hands and placed them on his waist. His whole being radiated with some emotion he wasn’t prepared to name at her touch. He pulled her against his chest.

“I want you.” He enunciated each word into her hair.

Alexandra swayed against him. Her hands ran over his back. She snuggled against him before pulling away.

“Why? Why me?”

“I don’t know.” How to explain to her that he’d desired her from the moment he’d seen her? No other woman had entered his thoughts since the second he touched her? That he dreamt of making love to her nearly every night?

Alexandra said nothing for a moment. “I see.” Gray eyes flashed. The tiny chin lifted at a mulish tilt. A curl popped from its confines. “I suppose that will have to do.”

Sutton grabbed the back of her head and took her lips in a possessive kiss that left no room for his intentions to be misconstrued. Her mouth opened under his, tongues twining about each other.

Alexandra sighed. The shawl fell to the floor, exposing the tops of her breasts. Another curl sprang free.

He pulled his mouth from hers and gave her a hard look. “This wedding can not happen soon enough. Consider yourself betrothed. Again.”