The Charming Jezebel

by Farmer, Merry

  Before Ophelia could answer, there was a commotion at the other end of the room.

  “My dear ladies and gallant gentlemen,” Marlowe announced as he strode into the room, like a bad actor entering the stage and expecting applause. Cunningham entered with him.

  The guests around the table were already primed for a show after watching Ophelia challenge Lady Malvis. They sat straighter and turned to Marlowe, murmuring and setting the room abuzz.

  “I have the pleasure of announcing that this morning, my good friend, Lord Cunningham and I—” he slapped Cunningham on the back, “—have come to an agreement for the hand of my youngest daughter, Imogen.”

  The murmurs at the table turned to gasps. All eyes turned to Lady Imogen, who looked just as shocked by the announcement as anyone else.

  “Father, no,” Lady Imogen said in a strangled tone.

  “Now, now, my dear,” Marlowe said through a clenched jaw, marching around the table toward her. “We have discussed this.”

  “And I said I would not marry him,” Imogen hissed, barely audible. She sent a panicked look across the table to Thaddeus Herrington, who looked ready to commit murder right there and then.

  Marlowe ignored her. Or rather, he clamped his hands over her shoulders from behind as she sat. The gesture could have been paternal and affectionate, but given the circumstances, it looked more like a jailer about to drag Lady Imogen out of her seat to toss her onto a ship bound for Australia.

  “The arrangements have already been made, my dear,” he said, clearly squeezing Lady Imogen’s shoulders to the point of pain. “You will do as I say.”

  Lady Imogen sagged in defeat, bursting into tears, as the rest of the guests looked on in horror.

  “A toast to my upcoming nuptials,” Cunningham called out.

  “But it’s only just breakfast,” one of the guests said.

  “Bring out the wine,” Cunningham went on.

  A confused footman haltingly moved to the door, speaking to the butler, who sighed in resignation and left the room, presumably to fetch wine.

  By Saif’s side, Ophelia stiffened with rage, balling her hands into fists. “This is unbearable,” she whispered. “I refuse to stand by and let my friends be treated this way.”

  “Shall we attempt one more escape?” Saif asked, the fires of indignation burning in his own chest.

  “We must,” Ophelia said.

  She grabbed his hand and led him out of the room. Their departure required them to walk the entire length of the breakfast room, as they’d ventured to the far end of the table to retrieve the key from Lady Malvis. Ophelia returned the key to its place around her neck as they walked. She also sent pointed looks to the Marlowe sisters as they passed them.

  Saif wasn’t certain there was much the Marlowe sisters could do, given the circumstances. To his surprise, within minutes, all three of them rushed out into the hallway and down to the far corner where Saif and Ophelia stood, waiting.

  “I don’t want to marry Lord Cunningham,” Lady Imogen said, rushing straight to Ophelia and taking her hands. “He’s horrible. Please help me, Ophelia.”

  “I fully intend to,” Ophelia said in a voice stronger than Saif had yet heard from her. “But we have to act fast.” She glanced to Lady Lettuce. “Do you still have the money Mr. Khan gave you?”

  Lettuce patted her side. “I’ve kept it with me, fastened under my stays, this whole time.”

  Saif grinned. The Marlowe sisters were as intelligent as they were unfortunate. “We need to move fast, then,” he said.

  “I’ll move as fast as you need me to if it means we can get away from here,” Lady Alice said.

  “Then we go,” Ophelia said. “No fetching baggage this time. I will retrieve what you need and send it to you at the school. This time, we must leave immediately.”

  “But what about a carriage?” Lady Lettuce asked as they started toward the door that led to the servants’ stairs and below.

  “We can go straight to the stable,” Saif said. “You can wait there while I have the carriage prepared.”

  “Yes,” Ophelia said as they crossed through to the stairs and started down. “Then we’ll—”

  She was cut short as Lady Alice let out a squealing cry and stumbled forward. Saif lunged toward her but was too late to stop her from tumbling down the stairs. Lady Imogen shrieked as well. The spill looked terrible, but thankfully, they were already halfway down the stairs.

  “Lady Alice?” The concerned call came from behind them. Saif turned to see Count Camoni rushing down the stairs. The man must have followed Lady Alice out of the breakfast room in pursuit of them. “Lady Alice,” he said with deeper alarm, charging past Saif and the rest of them to scoop Alice up from where she was splayed at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you hurt?”

  To Saif’s eyes, Camoni’s actions looked like those of a man in love. He carried Lady Alice to a nearby room and sat her in a chair, then crouched to check her ankles. Lady Alice yelped in pain as he handled one of them.

  “Go,” she wailed, bursting into tears. “I’ve twisted my ankle. There’s nothing I can do. Go on without me.”

  Saif was ready to follow the order without hesitation. He’d come to trust Camoni and to believe he was a good man, even if his betrothal to Lady Alice had been arranged by Marlowe. What surprised him was that Ladies Lettuce and Imogen seemed willing to go on as well. Their whole group dashed on through the servants’ hall and kitchen to the door that would take them out to the kitchen courtyard.

  For a change, it wasn’t raining, but everything was damp and cold. They didn’t have terribly far to run to make it to the stables and carriage house, but as they rounded the corner at the end of the courtyard and dashed out into the open, they were waylaid once again.

  This time, however, it was the heroic figure of Lord Thaddeus that stopped them.

  “Imogen,” he called, extending his arms to the youngest Marlowe sister.

  “Thaddeus.” Lady Imogen rushed toward him, throwing herself into his arms.

  Thaddeus held her tightly, murmuring something into her ear and smoothing a hand along her hair. He glanced up at Saif with a determined look. “If anyone is going to save Imogen from a fate worse than death, it will be me,” he said.

  Saif nodded. “It should be.”

  “But there is nothing to save the girl from,” a sinister voice said.

  Moments later, Cunningham appeared around the corner of the kitchen courtyard wall, where he had apparently concealed himself to watch the unfolding drama. Marlowe was with him, which didn’t surprise Saif at all.

  “Hand her over, Herrington,” Cunningham went on. “She is mine now. Your silly game stops here.”

  Chapter 10

  Ophelia jumped toward Saif, clinging to his arm, hardly able to draw breath with fear over the way things were unfolding. The world seemed to slow down as Lord Cunningham marched across the courtyard to grab Imogen by the arm, pulling her out of Lord Thaddeus’s grasp before he could do a thing about it. Imogen squealed and tried to jerk away, but Lord Cunningham’s grip was firm. Lord Marlowe blocked Lord Thaddeus from going after them.

  “I am wounded to my core that you would think of fleeing from me, my bride,” the horrible man said. “Just as our engagement has been announced.” He clucked in a way that added insult to injury as Imogen stopped struggling and burst into tears.

  “What kind of a man forces marriage upon a woman half his age?” Saif asked, stepping forward in a way Ophelia found heroic and terrifying.

  Lord Cunningham merely sniffed at him. “What kind of a man would impose himself on an Englishwoman when he knows it is anathema to look so far above himself?”

  “One who does not know the way the wind is blowing,” Lord Marlowe answered. The grin on his face as he glanced to his daughter, still managing to hold Lord Thaddeus at bay, chilled Ophelia to the bones.

  “I know what will happen next,” Saif insisted, holding his head high.

  “
I doubt that, boy,” Lord Marlowe chuckled. “For, just this morning, I reached a settlement with Lady Millicent, who assures me she has the power to act on her brother-in-law’s behalf.”

  “What settlement?” Ophelia asked, dreading the answer.

  “Why, for your hand in marriage, of course.”

  A fierce shudder shook Ophelia at the lascivious look Lord Marlowe sent her. It was as though he were undressing her with his eyes. The crawling feeling down her back intensified as he wiped his mouth and laughed deep in his chest.

  “That is not how Lady Ophelia’s story will end,” Saif declared, balling his hands into fists. He positioned himself just in front of Ophelia, half blocking her from Lord Marlowe. “She is mine, and I will—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish. A loud rattle and clop echoed through the courtyard as a black carriage drawn by an equally black horse charged forward, causing everyone to scatter to avoid being trampled.

  At the same time, Lord Thaddeus lunged forward, pushing Lord Marlowe aside and shouting, “Imogen!”

  The confusion of two simultaneous outbursts froze Ophelia where she was. Saif had to grab hold of her to shift her out of the way of the carriage, which came to a stop near the spot where she’d been standing, dumbfounded.

  She wasn’t the only one who froze at the turn of events. Lord Cunningham was slow enough to react that Imogen was able to peel away from him and dash toward Lord Thaddeus. As soon as the horrible man realized Imogen was out of his grip, he burst into a wordless cry of fury and attempted to snatch her back. Lord Thaddeus was faster, though. He caught Imogen’s hand, switched direction, and charged back toward the house.

  Ophelia started to chase after them, if only to slow Lord Cunningham down, but at that moment, the carriage door burst open, though no one leapt out.

  “Hurry,” Lettuce shouted to Imogen and Lord Thaddeus, lunging toward the carriage. “We can still flee.”

  “They can’t,” Ophelia yelped, switching direction to follow Lettuce, though several steps behind.

  “We can loop around—”

  Her plan was cut off with a yelp as Mr. Pigge stood from where he was concealed inside the carriage. Lettuce had one foot on the step already, and it was far too easy for Mr. Pigge to throw his arms around her and drag her all the way inside. Lettuce screamed and flailed, but Mr. Pigge must have expected and planned the whole thing. He slammed the door shut, trapping Lettuce inside. A moment later, the carriage swayed into motion once more, carrying Lettuce away from where any of them could help her.

  Ophelia screamed, clutching the sides of her face and turning from the speeding carriage to the kitchen door. Saif was by her side within moments, but that didn’t still the misery of everything that was happening around her.

  “Stop this nonsense at once,” Lord Marlowe growled, moving forward as if he would lay hands on her the way Lord Cunningham had with Imogen. “You are to be my wife, and I will not tolerate this foolishness.”

  “She will never be your wife,” Saif boomed, glaring furiously at Lord Marlowe.

  He didn’t wait for the man to make a reply. Without hesitation, he swept Ophelia back toward the kitchen door, where Imogen and Lord Thaddeus had disappeared. Lord Cunningham was still ahead of them, but it was clear from the sound of ringing footsteps and the confused murmurs and glances of the servants where they had gone.

  They raced up the servants’ stairs and back into the main part of the house, Lord Marlowe bringing up the rear. By the time they got to the front hall, Lord Cunningham was puffing and red-faced. Unfortunately, so was Imogen. Lord Thaddeus had taken her as far as he could, but it was clear she had a stitch in her side and couldn’t go on.

  “I’ll never let you marry her,” he said, shielding Imogen and glaring daggers at Lord Cunningham.

  Even though he was winded, Lord Cunningham still found the breath to laugh. “You cannot stop me, boy. Lady Imogen cannot marry without her father’s consent.”

  “And I will never give my consent to the likes of you,” Lord Marlowe panted, joining the standoff. “You are nothing, a nobody, the younger son of a minor earl who does not even have subsidiary titles to give away to his sons.”

  “I don’t care, Father,” Imogen said. “I would live a pauper’s life with Thaddeus if that is what it took for us to be together.”

  “Stupid girl,” Lord Marlowe sneered. “You cannot and you will not. You were made for finer things.”

  “Like getting the son I desperately need,” Lord Cunningham said, the same lustful look in his eyes Lord Marlowe had worn while studying Ophelia. Ophelia couldn’t forget the spectacle Felicity had made of the man either. Just the memory of him with his cock out turned her stomach.

  “You will marry who I tell you to marry,” Lord Marlowe said, marching to tower over Lord Thaddeus, though looking at his daughter the whole time.

  Lord Thaddeus stood up to him, but Imogen’s expression grew more ashen as the other house guests began to flood into the front hall to see what was transpiring. Alice and Count Camoni were among the throng, Alice limping and the count supporting her. Ophelia blinked at the sight, wondering if, perhaps, Saif was right about Count Camoni’s character after all.

  “What in heaven’s name is going on out here?” Caro asked, marching out from the grand parlor, still carrying a hand of cards. She gasped at the sight of the standoff.

  “This miscreant is attempting to abscond with my bride,” Lord Cunningham said.

  Caro’s jaw dropped open as she studied the scene. She glanced to Ophelia as if appealing for an explanation.

  “Imogen does not wish to marry Lord Cunningham,” Ophelia said, breaking away from Saif to go to her friend. “And Lettuce has been abducted by Mr. Pigge,” she finished with a squeak.

  “Not abducted.” Lord Marlowe turned to face the growing crowd, including Rufus, who hurried up from whatever work he’d been doing in the west wing, his butler by his side. “Mr. Pigge has romantically whisked my daughter away, like so many young ladies at this party have been whisked before her. They are heading to Gretna Green to be wed. But don’t worry,” he added. “They will return as man and wife within a week.”

  “No,” Ophelia gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. She’d failed. She’d failed in everything she’d tried to do for her friends. Perhaps if she hadn’t tried to extract them from the party the way she had, they would all be safe now.

  “This is not your fault,” Saif said, striding toward her and taking her into his arms. “I can see in your eyes that you think it is, but without you, the Marlowe sisters wouldn’t have had hope. You gave that to them.”

  “But they’re ruined,” Ophelia whispered, highly conscious of so many people watching them. “If I had planned more carefully, if I hadn’t been so foolish….”

  “Do not count them out yet, my love,” Saif whispered in return, kissing her forehead. “Your friends are made of stronger stuff than you think.”

  As if to prove his point, he nudged her to glance across the hall. Imogen and Lord Thaddeus had their heads together, speaking furiously without anyone noticing. They were plotting as surely as the sun was shining feebly through the clouds outside.

  When more eyes turned to them, Imogen pulled away from Lord Thaddeus and said, “I shall accept my fate, Father.” She moved closer to Lord Cunningham, dropping her head to hide her eyes. Ophelia was certain the gesture had something to do with the mischievous grin that pulled at the corner of her lips.

  The flame of hope that Ophelia had thought was extinguished flared to life once more. She had to do something, had to let Imogen know she saw a plan was afoot and that she would help if possible. Her mind was blank, though. At least, until she clasped a hand to her heart and felt the key around her neck. Then she knew what she had to do.

  She stepped forward, crossing the hall as quickly as she could until she stood in front of Imogen, removing the ribbon from her neck as she did. “I have a gift for you,” she said, presenting Imogen with the ke
y. “I…I suppose it is a betrothal gift.”

  As Imogen reached for the key, a confused look in her eyes, Ophelia clasped hands with her and leaned in close, pretending to hug her.

  “I believe this key opens a cabinet carved with roses in one of the unoccupied guest rooms. Perhaps there is something contained in the cabinet that might help you. The room itself is discreet.” She whispered her message in a hurry, then rocked back.

  Imogen looked at her with wide eyes, closing the key in her fist. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. I know you tried.”

  “Now that we have one match out of the way,” Lord Marlowe said, stepping forward and wedging himself between Ophelia and Imogen, trying to grab Ophelia’s arm as he did. Ophelia dodged out of his grasp but didn’t get far before Aunt Millicent emerged from the crowd to block her retreat. “I have another announcement to make.”

  “You do not,” Saif said, striding across the room and plucking Ophelia from Aunt Millicent’s clutches. “Because I will be marrying Lady Ophelia, not you.”

  An excited murmur passed through the onlookers.

  “You cannot, sir,” a man near the back of the crowd called out. “It is indecent.”

  “I believe it is illegal,” another said.

  “Is it?” a woman asked doubtfully. “They are clearly in love.”

  “A prince may marry whomever he wishes,” Saif said, pulling himself to his full, regal height.

  Again, a murmur swept through the hall, and all eyes were riveted on Saif as he reached Ophelia, taking her hand.

  “You are not a prince,” Lord Marlowe snorted. “You are an upstart colonial whose father runs a house no better than a brothel in London.”

  “Actually, he is a prince,” Rufus told him and everyone else in the hall. “And his father works hand in hand with the East India Company and the Crown.”

  “Is that…is that true?” Aunt Millicent said, a devious light in her eyes.

  “It is,” Ophelia told her. “And I do not care what arrangement you have with Father or for yourself. I am marrying Saif, whether the laws of England permit it or not. We will not be staying in England for long regardless.”