Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

28

Alexandra put down the ledger and stretched to get the crick out of her neck. Her back popped as she stretched, the tiny vertebrae snapping into place. She rubbed her eyes. The numbers on the ledger were beginning to blur. She worked day and night, determined to oversee the vast Cambourne empire on her own. She barely succeeded. In the three months since Sutton’s departure, or as she called it in her darkest moments, his idiotic abandonment of her, the work had been a balm to her soul. Work kept her from dwelling on Sutton. As she put down her quill her stomach growled.

“Yes, yes. Time for tea.” Muttering she reached for the bell-pull when she overheard voices in the hall.

“Her ladyship is not receiving today! Please leave your card, my lord and I’ll-”

A large, powerfully built man burst into her study slamming the door against the wall. The watercolor of lilies hanging just to the right of the door dangled dangerously for a second but did not fall to the floor

Tall and muscular, the man’s very size dominated the room. Dark, shaggy brown hair hung over his ears and brushed the top of the elegant coat stretched across the broad shoulders. Some would have called him handsome, except for the bend of his nose, a testament to having it broken more than once. The eyes, of course, were what made Alexandra sit back in her chair and clutch the desk tightly. One eye brown, the other a brilliant, azure blue. She’d read about the condition once, it was genetic and hereditary, sometimes carried in families for centuries. The effect was startling, and slightly demonic. She knew who this man was. She was actually surprised they hadn’t met yet since he was one of her husband’s dearest friends. Then she remembered something Sutton said before their marriage.

Nick’s off on one of his ships, chasing the past else he’d be here to see me wed.

“Lady Alexandra Cambourne?” Her name rumbled out of the giant’s chest.

Alexandra stood, walking around the desk with slow deliberation. “Yes. I am Lady Cambourne.

The odd eyes flicked over her, settled on her waistline, then ran back to her face. “Bloody idiot.”

Alexandra’s hands moved protectively over her abdomen. She swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I don’t mean you,” he growled. “You’re not the idiot. You’re the Badger.”

She swallowed again, somewhat unsettled that he knew Sutton’s name for her.

“He doesn’t know does he?”

Alexandra gripped the front of the desk. Her waist was still small. Her breasts were a bit fuller but not overly so. How did he know-”

He waved away her look of shock. “I am Nicholas Tremaine, Viscount Lindley.” His voice, deep and raspy, sounded as if he’d been drinking whiskey all afternoon. “My apologies for missing the wedding. That was poorly done of me. I had business to attend to in France and only returned a short time ago. You know who I am?”

“Besides being the Devil of Dunbar, you are my husband’s closest friend.”

“Oh yes, I’m damned and all that.” He waved the nickname away, chuckling as he did so. “It’s the eyes.” He watched her for any sign of discomfort.

Alexandra stood her ground. Her senses told her this man would immediately dismiss her, should she show the slightest fear of him. “Did you come for tea or to frighten me? My husband is also possessed of a ridiculous nickname, my lord.”

A great, dark chuckle bubbled out of Viscount Lindley’s mouth. He smiled at her, a wry grin that glinted of predatory male. Viscount Lindley possessed a dangerous allure that many women would find appealing.

He held up a leather packet tied tightly with twine.

Alexandra’s heart lurched. The packet bore the Cambourne coat of arms.

“Cam was right to choose you.” His eyes ran over her hair. “He did say you had the most amazing hair. Pity it’s not down. Would have liked to see it.” He shrugged. “Ah, well.”

Affronted by his casual assessment of her, she replied crisply. “If you are quite finished with your…evaluation of me, I would like to open the packet. I assume it’s from Sutton.”

“Tart little thing, aren’t you?” The full lips gave her a slow smile.

Alexandra stepped back from the look in his eyes. Viscount Lindley could be described as bewitching.

He laughed again under his breath as he watched her move away from him. “Oh, don’t fret. You’re quite safe from me. I’m really quite harmless. I haven’t cast a spell in ages.”

Alexandra sucked in her breath. How did he know what she was thinking?

He nodded at the packet. “Open it. Don’t expect a personal letter, it’s simply full of legal documents. Things signed by solicitors. Cam’s on one of my ships bound for Macao. He’s likely just now settling down around the tip of Africa.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “You opened my packet?”

Viscount Lindley ignored her outrage. “If he wants to get a message to you, he will. My ships stop all over the world, exchanging cargo and information. I’m leaving on one myself tonight. Bermuda.” His large hand scratched at the whiskers covering his chin.

Viscount Lindley’s valet had been remiss. He needed a shave. A pewter ring glinted on his thumb, pitted and worn with age. Scars covered his knuckles.

Alexandra cleared her throat. Had the circumstances been different, and Sutton at her side, she would ply this man with questions. Miranda had given her the history of the Tremaine family one night over dinner and it was quite an interesting tale.

He raised a brow.

Perhaps it was true—the things they said about his family, for the man seemed able to guess her secrets.

“I must leave for Bermuda tonight, even though it now appears that I should not.” He pointedly looked at her stomach with worry. “The storm season is approaching. If I do not leave now, I may not have another chance for at least half a year. Things there require my immediate attention.” Viscount Lindley looked torn. “Cam has taken measures for your protection, as have I.”

“If Lord Cambourne truly cared for the safety of his family, he should not have gone off to Macao to converse with monkeys and traipse all over the Asian peninsula.”

“I have to agree with you.” He moved forward and took her hand, startling Alexandra. His hand, large and warm, dwarfed her smaller, chilled one.

Biting her lip, she blinked back tears. How dire were circumstances if the Devil of Dunbar showed her pity?

“Alex, Cam will come back. He should just about now be realizing what an idiot he is. Forgive me for being…somewhat ill-mannered but,” Viscount Lindley sighed, “Cam loves you. Terribly. It is not a state he has ever experienced before, which does not excuse his blatant stupidity at leaving. I do not even know what you argued over, but certainly it can be remedied.”

Alexandra pulled her hand away, regretting the loss of warmth and the strange feeling of safety Viscount Lindley gave her. “We shall be fine, my lord. I will be fine.”

“Stubborn.” His tone showed approval. “As you wish, Lady Cambourne. I’ve given instructions to Zander at Gray Covington. You will not return there. Too close to London. You ladies are to retire to Blackburn Heath. The family seat is three days journey from London and damned impenetrable. You will be safe there. The country air would do wonders for your…condition.” The suggestion held more of a command than a request. “I have already recommended such to the Dowager.”

“I appreciate your concern, my lord. I will take your suggestion to heart.”

Viscount Lindley did not like having his regard ignored, but he acquiesced. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Cambourne.” He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door, thought better of it and shut it. His dark head swung back, and the odd eyes stabbed her with intensity. “He will come back, Alex. I promise.” As he walked out, she heard him mutter, “If I have to shanghai him myself this time.”

Viscount Lindley’s heavy tread echoed on the parquet floors as he left her. Her legs felt boneless, incapable of holding her up. Cautiously she untied the twine wrapped around the leather packet. Viscount Lindley did not lie. No note addressed to her personally was inside, only a sheaf of legal documents making Alexandra Reynolds, the Marchioness of Cambourne, responsible for all of Cambourne in the absence of her husband, the Marquess.

Alexandra ran her fingers over her stomach as tears trailed down her cheeks. Her heart hurt, as if someone had sliced open her chest at the loss of Sutton. The weight of responsibility that fell on her shoulders nearly made her knees buckle. Sadness and disbelief filled her. If he did come back, it would not be soon.

She put a hand to her mouth, crying silently lest the servants hear her and intrude on her despair. She must be wise now. She’d told no one about the child she carried, not even the Dowager. No one must know. Announcing the impending birth of the heir to Cambourne would put her and her child in grave danger. Jeanette, especially, must not find out.

Jeanette married Herbert Reynolds barely two weeks after Sutton’s departure. Jeanette knew Sutton would leave. The woman stalked Alexandra’s every move, visiting Cambourne House often under the guise of seeing Miranda. The former marchioness would perch, like a vulture, on the edge of the settee and ask after Alexandra’s health while pointedly looking at Alexandra’s stomach. She would pretend concern and ask after Sutton.

Thoughts of Jeanette brought Alexandra swiftly back to her conversation with Viscount Lindley. She was not brave, nor was she stupid. Jeanette would expect Alexandra to stay close to the Dowager and Miranda. So, she would not.

Alexandra walked over to the desk and dropped the packet next to a lengthy letter with several invoices attached. The letter detailed various renovations Alexandra began last month at Helmsby Abbey. Renovations she would need to oversee personally.

The Cambourne coach would leave by the end of the week for Blackburn Heath, but Alexandra would not be making the entire trip. She was going home.