Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers
25
“Happy birthday.”
Alexandra looked up from her tea and toast in surprise. The knife holding the apple butter hovered above her plate. She had forgotten about her birthday, forgotten about everything except her newfound happiness with Sutton. Gray Covington was only a day’s ride from London, but the estate felt a lifetime away from society and the ton. The month since her wedding to Sutton had been the happiest of Alexandra’s life. Marriage suited her, and she wondered why she’d once resisted it so fiercely. At least being married to Sutton suited her. Her loss of independence was a small price to pay to belong to the gorgeous man who sat across from her making his way through a plate of eggs and bacon. She awoke everyday in a state of bliss.
“Thank you.” She smiled back at him, noting with pleasure the wave of inky black hair that brushed his shoulders. The earring hid in the shining locks, but she could see the tiny figure in her mind’s eye. She would never tire of looking at Sutton. It was like having a beautiful painting by Rembrandt or Titian come to life. Albeit one that teased her, argued with her and made love to her with such startling intensity. Alexandra often thought she would die from sheer lust.
“You are most welcome, wife.”
“A bit smug, aren’t you? How did you find out?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart thudded with fear. Had he written to Mr. Meechum, the Dunforth solicitor, without her knowledge? Had Mr. Meechum told Sutton the Dowager purchased Helmsby Abbey and Alexandra held the deed? She watched her husband carefully, but his expression remained playful.
“I have my ways, Badger.”
“Definitely very smug for a peacock.” She teased him back as a flood of relief mixed with guilt flooded through her. Alexandra did not yet have the courage to tell him that the Dowager gifted her with Helmsby Abbey upon their marriage. Sutton advanced her funds to take care of the servants there, find them new employment, or bring them to Gray Covington. Alexandra assured him she took care of everything.
It wasn’t completely a lie. While Alexandra knew she didn’t need the enticement of her estate in Hampshire to marry Sutton, something told her that her husband would not see it that way. Sutton never fully believed she married him for himself. A twisted bit of logic that Alexandra had Jeanette to blame for. Regardless, she needed to tell Sutton the truth.
What if he didn’t believe her?
“Pardon, my lord.” Zander arrived, carrying a large packet. “The papers, my lord, from London. There is also a note from Lady Miranda.” He bowed again to Sutton, then to Alexandra, before marching through the doorway.
Sutton pushed the newspapers aside and tore open his sister’s letter. He scanned the fine vellum, squinting a bit as he tried to make out the words before his lips twitched and he broke into an amused chuckle. He tossed the letter to Alexandra. “You’re welcome to attempt to read it. My sister’s handwriting leaves much to be desired.”
“Translate for me.” She glanced at the note knowing she would only be able to read every other word. Sometimes she wondered if Miranda was writing in some sort of code.
“It seems that without the protection of her brother, the notorious Satan Reynolds, Miranda is besieged with fortune hunters and other dubious suitors. The Dowager is beside herself and took a cane to one forward baron who tried to steal a kiss from my sister while grandmother wasn’t looking. And according to Miranda, the man smells of castor oil which my grandmother finds particularly offensive. Miranda claims the castor oil, and not the attempt at stealing a kiss, is what truly incensed Grandmother. At any rate, she begs us to return as soon as we are able in order to guard her virtue.”
“Does she mention Tasterly?”
Sutton scoffed. “Tasterly. What does she see in that man?”
“You should make an effort to know him better. He fears you, and your sister is quite taken with him.”
“I do not care for the man. I am sure he has affection for Miranda, likely magnified by the size of her dowry. Tasterly needs to make an excellent match as he has frittered away a large part of his inheritance.”
“Your sister is an intelligent woman. If Lord Tasterly is only after her money, Miranda will figure that out on her own.”
“It is my duty to protect her.” The angelic face took on a stubborn tilt. Sutton was a bit overprotective of his sisters and with good reason. But Miranda chafed under Sutton’s restrictions. She would assist her friend when she and Sutton returned to London.
London. She had no desire to ever return. Country living suited her much better. The fear of seeing her uncle or Mr. Runyon paralyzed her, even though Sutton assured her he took precautions. She also did not want to face society yet.
While the talk of the ruination of Alexandra Dunforth and the circumstances surrounding it died down, the scandal had not disappeared. Sutton and Alexandra had yet to make an appearance in London. This set the tongues wagging in the ton. Some said they doubted any marriage took place.
Sutton deftly sliced open another envelope.
Alexandra noticed the spidery hand of the Dowager. She watched his eyes deepen to a dark green, narrowing as he read.
“My stepmother has been busy. Gossiping and gambling with Herbert Reynolds on her arm. She plays the martyr well, telling everyone who will listen about her reduced circumstances.” Sutton folded the letter but kept it firmly in his grip.
Reduced circumstances? Sutton had been far more generous to Jeanette than even Alexandra felt necessary. Sutton purchased his stepmother a smaller, fashionable townhouse, staffed to her specifications, and had given her a generous allowance.
“Herbert is covering her debts, it seems.”
“Perhaps she cares for him.”
The green gaze swung to her. “She cares for no one but Archie. She never has. Jeanette possesses not one redeeming quality.”
Alexandra did not contradict her husband. One night, after a particularly delightful dinner, Alexandra made the mistake of asking Sutton about his childhood. She simply wanted to understand. Sutton refused to meet her eyes as he described the depth of his stepmother’s manipulation while he was a child. How the emotional abuse intensified the longer Jeanette went without producing a male heir. Of his father’s wrenching guilt when he finally realized what was happening. Thank goodness the Dowager had returned to London at the birth of Miranda or Sutton’s view of women would be tinged with his stepmother’s poison.
“What could Jeanette possibly gain from marrying Herbert? You’ve told me that your distant relation is a wealthy landowner who rarely comes to London. He is a country squire. Whatever would Jeanette want with him?”
Sutton gave a choked laugh. “Badger, Herbert is the only other male heir to Cambourne. Other than myself. Jeanette covets the Cambourne money and estate above all else. She always has. My father used to say that she married Cambourne, not him.” Sutton shot her a wry look. “Why do you think,” he said softly, “she would bother with Herbert?”
A pit formed in her stomach at the question. “Surely you don’t think she would dare harm you?”
“It’s of no importance.” Sutton gave her one of his most brilliant smiles and waved his hand in the air. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. He hid something from her. “Don’t you want your birthday gift?”
Would Jeanette actually try to have Sutton murdered? She thought Sutton’s stepmother capable of many things, but it never occurred to Alexandra that the woman would be so bold as to try to murder Sutton.
“Badger.” Sutton pulled a tiny gilt-wrapped box from his pocket. “No more talk of the wicked witch. Especially not today.” He waved the box in front of Alexandra.
“I should like to read what the Dowager has to say for myself.” Alexandra made a grab for the Dowager’s letter, but Sutton shook his head, and placed the letter out of her reach.
“Nothing to concern yourself with on your birthday.”
She moved towards the letter.
He feinted to the right to stop her, but Alexandra was quicker. She slid under his arm and took the letter off the table, darting out of his reach and opening the crisp paper.
‘Jeanette has made sure to cast doubt on your marriage. She hints that the marriage did not occur, and that Alexandra lives at Gray Covington as your mistress. A rumor that Jeanette feeds as she did the gossip that your father did the same with Madeline. Even though the marriage was witnessed and documented, Jeanette still spins her poisonous web. While your sister makes light of it, without your presence in London, Miranda’s suitors have been lacking in reputation. Many of her friends decline to call. Please come to Cambourne House and attend several events with your wife at your side.’ Alexandra’s hand shook.
“We must return, Sutton.”
“Gray Covington is close enough to London. We do not need to be there. Do you tire of my company? Do you wish to go to London?”
She placed the letter gently on the table.
“I do not care what the gossips say.” He stroked her cheek. “I wished to ruin you.” He gave her a lustful look. “I still do. I-”
“Sutton.” She placed a hand on his chest. “We have been selfish in allowing Miranda and the Dowager to weather the storm alone. I am not afraid of Jeanette. Odious Oliver has likely eaten himself to death by now. And the ton does not scare me. Not even Agnes Dobson. The woman reminds me of an insect.”
“Brave little badger.” He kissed her softly and handed the box to her. “Open.”
Alexandra tugged at the red velvet ribbon atop the box and lifted the lid.
Sutton looked at her expectantly. Smug again.
A beautiful gold locket sat on a bed of red satin. The locket was rectangular and formed so that it looked not so much like a locket, but a tiny golden book. Alexandra picked the locket up by the fine, slim chain.
“It’s beautiful. However, did you find such a thing?”
“Look inside.” He pressed a kiss to her ear.
Alexandra opened the tiny clasp and gasped in delight which rapidly transformed into giggles. The locket held two tiny miniatures. The left portrait was of a peacock painted in gorgeous blue. The right portrait was of a small, rodent-like creature. She had never seen one, but Alexandra assumed this was a badger. A tear ran unbidden down her cheek even through her laughter. What an idiotic, romantic, ridiculous thing for Sutton to do.
“Do you like it?” He resembled a mischievous schoolboy who has played a prank.
“You are most creative. How did you manage to get a badger to sit for a portrait?” She sniffed and tried to sound tart through the emotion choking her throat.
He wiped the tear from her eye. “I didn’t mean for you to cry, Badger.” Sutton pulled her around and kissed her possessively and soundly. He nibbled her ear before clasping the chain around her neck. “This is for us and us alone. Our private joke.”
The gold felt warm against her skin. Her heart sang. She wondered how he found someone to paint the tiny portraits, and what the artist thought of Sutton’s strange request.
His fingers trailed along the chain, then outlined the locket where it lay nestled between her breasts.
“Thank you.”
While Sutton never spoke the words, she saw the love for her shining in his eyes. She only prayed it wouldn’t fade when she told him about Helmsby Abbey.
