Wickedly Yours (The Wickeds Book 4)

by Kathleen Ayers

  She was certain the servants were scandalized.

  Arabella found her previous bitterness was no match for her current happiness. As the weeks went by, she fell deeper in love with her husband. The fear of loving Rowan still lingered, but she learned to put her anxiety aside. It had no place in her marriage.

  Late at night, as Rowan snored softly beside her, Arabella would wonder if she should tell him everything, starting with her lie about Corbett and ending with Barker’s threats and blackmail. She would throw herself at her husband’s feet and beg him to understand that she was no longer that bitter woman.

  Rowan was wrong. She was a coward.

  The fear of losing him kept Arabella’s lips firmly shut. The thought of Rowan hating her, as he surely would, stopped her. She couldn’t bear to have him look at her with revulsion. And so, she kept silent and waited for her guilt to abate. As the weeks wore on, she saw no more of Barker and determined the earrings had finally appeased him.

  Still, Arabella felt strongly that the time had come for her to atone for at least some of her sins. When she and Rowan had been married a month, Arabella reached a decision.

  31

  “Her Grace is in the drawing room, Lady Malden.” Peabody lifted his brows at her in surprise.

  Well, why wouldn’t he be a bit shocked? She’d never once sought Jemma’s company. And she knew the old butler was incredibly protective of the duchess. “Thank you, Peabody.” As Arabella passed the butler she paused, “for everything.”

  The older man’s cheeks pinked. “My lady, it has been my greatest pleasure.”

  Arabella gave a snort of disbelief. “You suffered Grandfather, then Nick and especially me. I feel certain that if they gave battle commendations to house staff, your uniform would be decorated with medals.”

  Peabody’s eyebrows raised into his hairline at her words before his lips turned up in what passed for a smile. “Congratulations again, my lady, on your marriage. May I say it seems to agree with you.”

  “You may.” She strode forward and waited for Peabody to open the drawing room doors. “I shall not upset her in the least.”

  Peabody said nothing, only gave a short bow and opened the drawing room doors.

  Her brother’s wife sat on the large brocade sofa near the window with a view of the gardens. She was cleaning a beautiful set of pistols inlaid with ivory on the handles, the mound of her stomach glaringly apparent. It was a rather ridiculous scene, the pregnant duchess cleaning a pair of deadly pistols. Jemma was terribly eccentric. Arabella supposed that was one of the reasons Nick loved her.

  She looked up at Arabella’s entrance, with one raised brow. Her face remained carefully controlled and polite though her hand tightened on the hilt of the pistol.

  I haven’t the least doubt she’d like to shoot me. Nick says she’s an excellent shot.

  Peabody gave Jemma a pointed look and departed, leaving the drawing room doors open.

  Arabella nodded towards the departing butler. “I suppose he’s concerned that I might accost you, Your Grace. With the doors ajar he’s certain to hear your screams for help.”

  Jemma resumed cleaning the pistol. “Peabody is overprotective. I rarely scream and my condition has not affected my shooting ability.”

  Arabella swallowed down the sharp retort that instantly came to mind. But she was not here to argue with her sister-in-law. “I shall refrain from causing Peabody any alarm. I should hate to have him wrestle me to the floor in an effort to protect you.”

  “Nick isn’t here.” Jemma turned to her. “I’m sure you can show yourself out.” She raised the gun and pointed the weapon in Arabella’s direction, pretending to check the sight.

  She wasn’t going to make this easy, but why should she? Perhaps her behavior was part of Arabella’s penance. “It’s just as well, I came to see you. If you would be so kind as to not shoot me with that thing, perhaps you’d like to know why.”

  Hazel eyes, so like Rowan’s, looked up from the pistol. Her hand fell protectively over the rise of her stomach. She placed the pistol on the sofa but kept it within easy reach.

  “How interesting. Are you here at your brother’s behest?” She shook her head. “Bloody meddling duke that he is. Or perhaps Rowan?” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll tell them both we spoke. There is no need to continue what is bound to be an incredibly awkward conversation which will embarrass us both.”

  Arabella took a deep breath. It was rather difficult not to lose her temper with Jemma since everything her sister-in-law did irritated her beyond belief. But in this instance she deserved Jemma’s disdain, considering Arabella’s past actions.

  “I am not here at my husband’s request. Nor Nick’s, though you are correct in that he is a meddling elderly matron trapped inside the body of a duke.” Arabella gave a half-smile.

  Her smile was not returned.

  “I see.” Jemma regarded her with barely concealed dislike.

  Getting Jemma to hear her out was much more difficult than Arabella had anticipated. She’d had some bizarre assumption that being with child would cause her sister-in-law to soften towards her.

  “Your Grace, I would only ask that you allow me to say what I’ve come to say before you voice your opinion. This will not take long, I promise. Please hear me out.” Arabella paced back and forth across the thick rug of the drawing room, not daring to look her sister-in-law in the eye. Her hand twitched against her skirts though she tried to stop it.

  “Whatever have you done to your hair?”

  The words took Arabella by surprise. She halted. “Excuse me?” She reached up thinking something had gone awry when she took off her bonnet, but the smooth chignon still sat firmly at the base of her neck. A few lose strands of her hair were artfully left to fall against her shoulders. Her hair was perfect. “There is nothing wrong with my hair.” Her eyes narrowed on Jemma. “I’m told pregnancy makes a woman do and say strange things.” She couldn’t stop the curl to her lip though she wasn’t upset, just amused.

  “Careful, Arabella. I’m the one with the pistol.”

  Arabella shut her eyes. When she’d considered apologizing, she’d envisioned Jemma smiling sweetly and accepting Arabella’s request for forgiveness. How naïve of her. The very idea was preposterous. “I came here to make amends, if I can.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I have wronged you—”

  “The understatement of the century,” Jemma snapped.

  Arabella clenched her fists. “May I continue?”

  “Yes, of course. How rude of me to interrupt. Though to be fair, I said I would listen, not make your act of contrition easy.” Jemma’s chin tilted up. “Do go on.”

  Arabella nodded. There was no excuse for her actions but at the time, she’d truly felt she was protecting her brother from a woman who would harm him. Jemma may never forgive her, but she did wish her sister-in-law to understand. Arabella had not acted purely out of malice.

  “My entire childhood was spent with Grandfather railing against the man who framed my father, Phillip. Treason is always a terrible crime, but for my family, in particular, even the very mention of disloyalty is in direct opposition to a promise made long ago.” How much had her brother shared with his wife? Did she guess at some of the things Nick had done for Crown and country?

  “The Dunbars serve the Crown.” Jemma held her gaze. “Always. You are telling me nothing I don’t already know.”

  Arabella nodded in agreement. “Yes. You must understand that I was conditioned to hate this nameless man, whom we now know was your father, with my entire being. Nick as well. Not only for the act of treason, but…” Arabella swallowed as the memory of her parents bloodied bodies flashed before her eyes. She could still see her mother’s hand clutching the wine goblet. “But for what came after the accusations of treason.”

  Jemma looked at Arabella with something akin to pity. “He’s told me of what transpired that day. You and Nick saw them. A terrible thin
g.”

  “You’ve no idea.” The coppery smell of her parent’s blood still stung Arabella’s nostrils.

  “I don’t suppose I do.” Jemma was looking at her oddly, perhaps she was beginning to understand.

  “Nick bore the brunt of Grandfather’s need for vengeance and was reminded daily the responsibility of restoring our family’s honor was his.” Arabella rolled her eyes. “As if treason were the only thing standing between my parents and respectability. I’m sure he’s told you. Phillip and Charlotte were the farthest thing from respectable. Nick and I were shunned, but feared. Respected and despised. I suppose we both became a little overprotective of the other.”

  Jemma slowly nodded. “Another understatement.” But there was no judgement in her words.

  “I have been very angry for a very long time, Jemma. For a variety of reasons, none of which I will further bore you with. But Nick was all I had in the world. My brother, who was my strength,” she halted, “my safe harbor, became despondent at the news of your death. I could not protect him from the pain of your loss. I’ve never felt so powerless.” Arabella turned away from her for a moment, remembering Nick locking himself in his study for days, the pile of empty whiskey bottles outside the door the only sign that he still lived. “I cannot express to you the terror I felt that my brother would do himself harm. I feared he would follow you to the grave. Nick. The Devil of Dunbar. And then to find the Jem he grieved was the traitor’s daughter who miraculously returned from the dead.” Arabella looked away. “I have never felt such betrayal in my life, nor such fear that you would destroy my brother. I was ripe for manipulation when I met the Corbetts.”

  She looked back to her sister-in-law. Jemma had paled and her eyes were wet with tears.

  “I am not making any excuses for my behavior, for there are none to be had.” Arabella continued. “But I truly thought I was acting in Nick’s best interests, in my own selfish way. I was afraid I would lose him, that you would harm him in some way and—”

  “Stop.” Jemma brushed a tear from her cheek and turned away. “That is a time I can no longer speak of without weeping. You are not the only one that has made foolish choices fueled by pain and bitterness. If you know nothing else, know that I love Nick, with all of my heart. I will have no one hurt him again. Not me or you. Anyone.” Her voice grew hard.

  “I did not mean to upset you.” Arabella’s voice shook. Since her return from Wales she had observed her sister-in-law and knew how much Jemma loved Nick. “I was wrong about you and I am truly, deeply sorry. I was…” She hesitated slightly. “…someone else then.”

  Jemma sat still for the longest time, dabbing at her eyes with the same cloth she’d been cleaning the pistols with earlier. “I accept your apology, Arabella. I do not know if we can ever be friends, but at the very least, we have no need to be enemies.”

  A weight lifted from Arabella’s shoulders.

  “I believe, Arabella, that marriage to my cousin agrees with you.”

  “Indeed.” She was not about to get into a discussion of her marriage to Rowan with Jemma. “I bid you good day, Your Grace.”

  “Good day, Lady Malden.” Her sister-in-law wiped another tear off her cheek, then began to polish the handle of her pistol in earnest.

  * * *

  Arabella sat back against the leather seat of her carriage with a sigh of relief. The conversation with her sister-in-law had stirred up her emotions, and God knows her thoughts were in a constant state of upheaval. Life had been much simpler when it had been just she and Nick with occasional visits from Aunt Maisy or Miranda.

  She rapped on the roof of the coach. “Bond Street.”

  Arabella was quite wealthy, something she’d never given much thought to. She had gobs of money and rarely spent any of it, finding such a pursuit to be frivolous. But not today. Aunt Maisy declared shopping to be a wonderful way to pass the time particularly when a problem picked at one’s mind. Arabella had to agree.

  The carriage rolled to a stop at the far corner of the street and Arabella stepped out, giving a nod to the young groom to follow at a discreet distance. Rowan would be furious to know she’d gone out and about with no escort, only a boy barely able to shave, to tote her packages. But just now, Arabella was in a rebellious mood. If she must be in love with her husband, so be it, but being a completely obedient wife held no appeal for Arabella. Besides, she’d had enough of Rowan’s family for one day.

  Strolling along, she purchased new gloves for both herself and Rowan, as well as a lovely coin purse for Aunt Maisy, to replace the one taken by Corbett. Next, she stopped at Thrumbadge’s, the booksellers. Speaking directly to the clerk, she purchased a copy of Experimental Researches in Electricity by the scientist Michael Faraday. Rowan loved technology although his current passion was steam and railroads. Arabella was willing to bet he would find Faraday’s work to be of interest. She had read several of Faraday’s articles and found his research fascinating.

  Humming to herself, she paid the clerk and handed her wrapped package to the waiting groom. A warm feeling centered over her heart. She enjoyed buying Rowan gifts and her husband was very effusive in his gratitude. After purchasing him some stationary he’d locked the parlor door and they’d spent an enjoyable afternoon. The divan would never be the same. Her cheeks flamed at the memory.

  My God I’ve turned into one of those women who moons over her husband.

  As Arabella rounded the corner towards her carriage, she was preoccupied with thoughts of Rowan. Primarily his naked backside which she’d admired that morning as he’d walked to his dressing room. Smiling to herself, she nearly ran into a pair of women coming from the opposite direction.

  Lady Gwendolyn and another young lady.

  Turned out in a froth of pink and lace, Lady Gwendolyn batted her round blue eyes at Arabella with dismay. The perfect rosebud of a mouth pursed in dislike as she put as much distance between herself and Arabella as possible. As if Arabella were a leper.

  Arabella nodded politely to Lady Gwendolyn and her friend, moving past the pair as quickly as possible. Whispers and malicious giggles met her ears, but Arabella did not turn around. Instead, she hummed louder to drown out the sound. As she and the groom approached the coach, she directed the young man to secure the packages.

  “Oh, dear.” Rowan’s gloves were missing from the stack. She was still carrying them when she’d entered Thrumbadge’s and must have set the package down as she spoke to the clerk.

  “I’ve left something at Thrumbadge’s” She said over her shoulder as she headed back down the street. I’ll return in a moment.”

  “Lady Malden.” The groom reddened as he tried to balance the load of books. “Please wait and I’ll escort you.” He looked up at the driver for assistance.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be able to watch me from where you stand. Please stay with the carriage and secure my purchases.” Her words held a note of command as she hurried down the street to the booksellers. Unfortunately, she hadn’t left the package at Thrumbadge’s for the clerk claimed he’d not seen it. After muttering a few choice words under her breath, Arabella decided perhaps the footman had dropped the gloves. As she made her way back the way she’d come Arabella kept her eyes down, hoping she’d spot the dropped package.

  “Lady Malden, how lovely to see you out and about.”

  The words startled her momentarily and she halted, dread seeping over her chest. A shadow moved out of a narrow alley between Thrumbadge’s and the tobacco shop. As the shadow moved closer, she could see the malicious sneer on his lips as he looked at her.

  “Don’t you want to stop and say hello to an old friend?” He held up a small package wrapped in brown paper. Rowan’s gloves. “Are you looking for this?”

  Barker.

  She reached out and he stepped nimbly back into the alley holding the package out in a teasing manner.

  “Give it to me.” Arabella shot a nervous glance to her waiting carriage. Her footman was busy
loading the packages and trading gossip with the driver.

  Barker’s lips drew back in approval as she stepped into the narrow alley, probably enjoying her discomfort. He was nicely turned out. A new coat. Shiny, black expensive boots. Had his features not been so course, he would have blended in very well on Bond Street. Possibly even been mistaken as a gentleman.

  “That’s more like it.” He allowed her to take the package from his hands.

  She turned to go but his next sentence stopped her.

  “I could shock everyone on Bond Street, all these fancy ladies out for a stroll, with the most interesting story. The tale of how Lady Arabella ended up at that inn. With Corbett.”

  Anger swelled within her. She’d given him her earrings. She was finally happy. How she longed for some sort of a weapon to dispatch Barker from her life. He would never stop demanding money from her she realized. Never stop threatening her new life. Must she pay for her sins forever? “I’ll not give you another cent. I’ve confessed everything to my brother and husband,” she lied. “If you approach me again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your miserable days rotting in Newgate with nothing but the rats gnawing on your toes.”

  Barker’s nostril’s flared at her words. “You bitch.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She turned swiftly on her heel and strode away, hoping Barker would take her threat to heart and bother her no more. If she heard from him again, she may have to take her cousin, Brendan, into her confidence and ask his assistance.

  I should tell Rowan.

  Arabella discarded the thought immediately not willing to risk her newfound happiness.

  “My lady?” The groom, his Adams apple bobbing nervously, looked over her shoulder to where Barker had been standing. She suspected the lad was rather terrified of her. Rightly so.

  “He found this,” she held up the package. “And returned it to me. This is a gift for Lord Malden; have a care in the future with my purchases.” Rather unkind of her but between seeing Jemma and Barker’s unexpected appearance, Arabella wasn’t feeling especially charitable. “I’d like to be taken home now. I’m rather tired.”