Wickedly Yours (The Wickeds Book 4)

by Kathleen Ayers

Lady Marsh pursed her lips and turned to her daughter. “Did you know, Petra, Lady Gwendolyn attended?” Her eyes slid to Arabella. “Are you acquainted with Lady Gwendolyn, Arabella?”

  Arabella’s hand twitched against her skirts. “We’ve been introduced.” She kept her tone mild.

  “Such a dear girl. Quite a catch.” Lady Marsh sipped at her sherry and shrugged. “I appreciate the fact she is forgiving of mistakes and exhibits patience. One never knows when the wheels of fate will turn in another direction.”

  “Mother.” Petra hissed under her breath in admonishment. “Stop.”

  Good Lord, was Petra trying to protect Arabella? The very idea was absurd, but possibly she’d underestimated Perfectly Perfect Petra.

  “Lord White is highly regarded in Parliament. He’s told me there are ways to correct mistakes, especially those made under duress. Not common, of course, but possible.”

  This time Petra frowned in horror at her mother.

  Lady Marsh insinuated, and none too subtly, Rowan could seek a divorce under the condition that he’d been forced to marry Arabella and, in the process, made clear her preference for the saintly Lady Gwendolyn.

  At least now I know the source of the gossip I heard earlier today.

  The idea Rowan could no longer be hers nearly caused a hitch in her breathing. Divorce or annulment were ludicrous, but as she looked at the determination stamped across Lady Marsh’s face, Arabella decided the notion wasn’t so ridiculous. Nor impossible. And the thought was quite painful. The hurt rapidly crystalized into something much more useful.

  Anger.

  “Lady Marsh.” Arabella stood and walked over to her mother-in-law. She tilted her chin at just the right angle of arrogance and laced her words with ice. It was time to remind Lady Marsh exactly who she insulted. Arabella might be a baron’s wife by marriage, but she was the daughter and sister of a duke, neatly outranking Lady Marsh.

  “Please feel free to speak plainly. I am not considered unintelligent, and I grow tired of your innuendo.” Arabella allowed a sneer to cross her lips. She would not be cowed by the likes of Lady Marsh.

  Lady Marsh’s complexion turned to beet. “Rude and impolite.” Her cheeks puffed. “We did not approve of this marriage, no matter how dear Nick is to us.”

  “You are afraid of my brother,” Arabella snapped, ignoring Lady Marsh’s sharp intake of breath. “That is not at all the same as affection. I assure you my brother knows the difference.”

  Lady Marsh sat down her sherry with force, spilling the dark liquid across the table. “My son is an honorable man,” she sputtered. “And far more than you deserve. You’ll ruin him. Keep him from his duty. Destroy every ounce of decency in him.” The curls around her temples shook with rage. “I can only hope the poison that lies within you does not find its way into Rowan and destroy him.” With a flurry of violet skirts, Lady Marsh stood, facing Arabella as if she was considering tackling her to the floor. “I will do everything in my power to release my son from your clutches.” She turned her back on both Arabella and Petra, her angry footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors as she departed the room.

  “Well,” Arabella snapped, “I was going to ask her opinion on the redecoration of our new home, but I suppose I’ll have to do without your mother’s advice.”

  “I am sorry for her behavior.” “Petra looked down at her hands for a moment, then continued in a controlled tone. “My mother is less than clear-headed at times and especially where Rowan is concerned. It’s because…” Petra waved her hand as if pushing the words aside. “She behaves badly when thwarted, as you have just witnessed.” Her gaze pierced Arabella. “Rowan never wished to marry Gwendolyn. But he did wish to marry you.” She raised a golden brow. “Though I’m not at all sure why.”

  Arabella resisted the urge to swat Petra, not appreciating the back handed compliment given all she’d had to endure this evening. “Will you let Rowan know I’ve taken the carriage?”

  “I do not think —”

  “Then don’t. Think that is. I feel certain your mother does enough thinking for you.”

  Petra’s eyes grew hostile. “Not all of it. You are not the only one pretending to be demure, though I’m far better at it.”

  Arabella started towards the door. “I find myself feeling rather ill and must return home. Perhaps the duck was too rich. I bid you good evening, Lady Petra.”

  Petra nodded. “He will not be pleased.”

  Arabella didn’t know if Petra meant Rowan would not be pleased with Lady Marsh’s behavior or her own and decided it didn’t matter.

  * * *

  “Annulment is a possibility if you can prove she married you under false pretenses or you were to admit you were unable to consummate the marriage.” His father gave him a hopeful look.

  Rowan tossed back the scotch, allowing the amber liquid to sear down his throat. The conversation had taken an ugly turn. He was so incredibly furious, Rowan dared not speak.

  “Divorce is more difficult,” Lord Marsh continued. “White would use his influence but such a thing could take years. Parliament would approve the action much quicker were you to prove Arabella adulterous. Given her mother’s reputation, inferring the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree is an excellent strategy.”

  “She is not,” Rowan flung the words at his father, “adulterous.” Had he known his father’s offer of an after-dinner drink was actually an attempt to browbeat him into discarding his wife, Rowan would have grabbed Arabella and fled the Marsh residence.

  His father shot him a speculative look. “How can you possibly be certain? She’s incredibly devious. White—”

  “Has no idea what he’s talking about. You assume I wish to rid myself of Arabella. I thought I made my decision perfectly clear to you when I told you I would wed her.” His voice grew hard. “Imagine how His Grace would feel were you to ask me to discard his sister and in doing so destroy her reputation beyond repair. I thought you bore him some affection.”

  Lord Marsh had the grace to look embarrassed. The leather chair squeaked as he sat back, holding the glass of brandy he sipped to his chest.

  “I do bear Nick a great deal of affection. He has been an excellent husband to your cousin and he treats your mother and I well.” His entire form deflated. “The very idea is rather preposterous when said out loud. Your mother has done nothing but harangue me day and night about your marriage. She is convinced you did not marry Arabella of your own free will, that your honor led you to make a decision and in doing so, ruined your life.”

  “Honor had absolutely nothing to do with my decision. Do you really think I could be forced to marry against my will?”

  “No. I don’t suppose you could be. Forgive me for suggesting such. I promised your mother I would…offer you options.”

  Rowan’s parents knew the story of Corbett and Arabella’s subsequent rescue, but he’d insisted they not contradict the story that Rowan and Arabella had been secretly courting. It hadn’t mattered, the entire ton still assumed he’d been forced, coerced or threatened to marry Arabella, his only consolation her enormous dowry. He knew now he should never have told his family the truth, especially his mother. She honestly believed he would have married Gwendolyn if not for Arabella.

  “Do you wish to know why Lord White pushes his daughter at Mother so forcefully?” Rowan watched his father over the top of his glass before taking a sip.

  His father grew still, and his eyes slid away. “I’m not certain I do.”

  “Allow me to enlighten you. What little time your dear friend doesn’t spend sowing dissention in our family he spends avoiding the duns beating at his door. White is rapidly bankrupting his estate. I have his markers, Father. All of them. Well over ten thousand pounds worth. White’s taste in mistresses is rather expensive. Lady White’s extravagance runs unfettered. He wishes me to marry his daughter so I will forgive his debts.”

  “Dear God.” The color leeched from his father’s face. “I’d no idea.”
>
  “Are you more surprised by the amount of your friend’s debt or the fact I have so much capital at my disposal?”

  “Neither, actually.” Lord Marsh shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have always been good with numbers and financial dealings. Clever. You do not tell me, and I do not ask, but I hear things. I know you are involved in trade. I suspect your ambitions stretch much farther than being a mere earl.” A faint smile crossed his lips and his eyes opened. “Unlike me in every way possible. I should have known there was another issue at hand for I couldn’t understand White’s determination. He’s all but convinced your mother the benefit of your marrying Gwendolyn far outweighs any scandal from the dissolution of your marriage.”

  Rowan opened his mouth to reply when the door to the study burst open to reveal his mother, the violet silk swirling about her body in her distress.

  “Dear Lord, she is a trial. Rude. Snobbish. Lacking in any manners,” Lady Marsh uttered, her hand placed dramatically against her forehead. “Please tell me, my lord,” she addressed his father, “that you have talked some sense into our son. Thankfully Lady Gwendolyn is the most patient of creatures.”

  “I hope so Mother, for she will be waiting a lifetime.” Rowan set his glass down thinking how ridiculous a creature his mother was, though he loved her dearly. “I hate to disappoint you but I’ve no intention of annulling my marriage. It has been consummated.” He looked his mother dead in the eye. “Repeatedly.”

  His mother’s hand flew to her throat as if to stifle a scream, whether from his vulgarity or the idea that even now, Arabella could be carrying her grandchild. Then she gave him a brilliant smile. “Lord White assures me that while a divorce would be difficult, neither is it impossible, especially if His Grace does not impede the process. We will wait a few more months and I will speak to Jemma—”

  Rowan slammed his palm down on the table with such force both his parents jerked in alarm. “Let me be clear, Mother, lest you misunderstand. Never did I ever, consider marrying Lady Gwendolyn. I would not have agreed to a match under any circumstances. I find her unappealing in every sense and dislike her parents.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Her lower lip quivered.

  “I do.” If he didn’t leave this instant, he would say something regrettable. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll collect Arabella and take my leave.”

  “She’s already left.” His mother looked towards his father. “After threatening me.”

  “Threatening you?” He gave a snort of disbelief. “What did you say to her?” Rowan demanded. He had underestimated his mother and would not do so again. She’d deliberately provoked Arabella, he was certain.

  “Nothing. She is simply ill-mannered and hostile.” His mother swallowed. “Not right for you in any way.”

  Rowan moved until he loomed over his mother’s diminutive form. “Mother, I love you. Truly. And because I do, I have tolerated for years your persistence to meddle in my life. I have tried to be a dutiful son.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I now see that has been a mistake for it has allowed you to believe I am someone I am not.” He took his mother’s hand. “I am not James. I will never be James. You adored him. He was the heir and I the spare. I blame myself nearly every day for his death though there is little I could have done to stop such from happening. I have tried to please you.”

  His mother’s eyes welled with tears. “Do not—” She took a breath.

  “I tire of this game, Mother. I was the son who came home dirty. Whom you caught cursing at a village boy after I blackened his eye. I was disobedient. Stole the pies from Cook. I used to dice in the kitchens with the grooms. I have been ruthless in business sometimes ruining a gentleman to gain what I wish. I’ve kept mistresses. I am good at cards though I pretend I am poor at it because it’s an advantage. I spend my days in trade.”

  She was shaking her head. “No. You are an honorable man. A gentleman. Perfect. Dutiful.”

  “No, Mother,” he said as gently as he could. “That was James.”

  A great sob came from his mother and she pushed him away. “Why are you saying such things to me? Her influence over you has led you to lie to me in such a way.” His father rose from his seat and wrapped his arms around her to mutter soothing words in her ear. “James would never speak to me of such unsavory things.”

  Rowan looked to his father and said more forcefully, “But I am not James. And I was not forced to marry Arabella, I wanted to marry her no matter the original circumstances. I will not discard her because you aren’t pleased. Truthfully, I worry for your sanity that you continue to undermine my marriage. I do not wish us to be estranged, Mother. But if you continue down this path, I will not visit you again nor welcome you in our home.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His mother was sobbing now, clutching at his father.

  “I do.” Rowan bowed to both his parents. “The duck was excellent. I bid you good night.”

  37

  Arabella paced across the floor of her room, her hand twitching against the dressing robe. She had come upstairs immediately upon her arrival and ordered a bath wishing to wash the sting of rejection from her skin. The scorching water did nothing to wash away Lady Marsh’s dislike. It was almost as if the woman could see the stain of the Great Lie, as she had taken to calling her acceptance of Corbett’s proposal. It was as if Rowan’s mother could sniff the air around Arabella discerning she was a bad seed, capable of ruining his life just by association.

  I need to tell Rowan. Admit to all of it.

  A fierce pounding echoed in her chest, the first tremors of fear at the thought of admitting how truly awful she was. Or had been. Rowan would discard her. Force her to live elsewhere. Possibly even send her back to Wales. In every instance, the end result was the same. He would hate her for proving his mother had been right all along about Arabella.

  The wet strands of her hair whipped around her body at the sound of footsteps moving in the bed chamber next door. She heard Rowan dismiss his valet before the door between their rooms swung open. Would he be angry she had left?

  “Contrary, mulish woman.” He padded on bare feet to her, ripping off his neckcloth as he did so. He had already shed his coat and waistcoat.

  “The duck did not agree with me. I was ill.”

  The fine lawn of his shirt joined the neckcloth on the floor. He kicked both away.

  Arabella found she couldn’t speak when faced with the utter masculine beauty of Rowan. She couldn’t look away from his torso, watching in fascination the way his muscles rippled as he moved towards her. A low hum of desire vibrated across her body. Her fingers fluttered against her robe wanting to touch the golden kissed skin.

  I love you, her heart whispered.

  “I feel certain something else made you ill.” A hand reached out and loosened the tie holding her robe together. The garment fell apart exposing a sheer white chemise trimmed in red ribbon. After the disastrous dinner and her abrupt departure from the Marsh home, she wished to placate him.

  Hunger flared in his face at the sight of the chemise.

  “I could not stay a moment longer, Rowan.” Lifting her chin, she dared him to chastise her. “I tried.”

  His eyes were focused somewhere below her chin. “Jesus. Where did you get this one? I can see your nipples.” A large hand cupped her breast. “I do not blame you, Bella.” Lips brushed hers. “Petra stopped me in the foyer and told me what happened. I’m actually amazed at your self-control. My mother deserved far worse from you.”

  “But you deserve better. I’m ill-mannered and waspish in addition to being contrary. I am also quick to anger.” Arabella gasped as his fingers caressed her through the sheer fabric.

  Rowan’s hand dropped from her breast to gently cup her cheek. His breath wafted across her skin. “I married you because I wanted you. I still do.” He whispered against her lips. “Every minute of every hour. Your scathing tongue does nothing to dissuade me unless you aren’t using it pr
operly.” An impish grin tilted his lips as he placed a tender kiss to her mouth. He pressed his forehead to hers.

  A tear slid down Arabella’s cheek. I’ve become a milksop. Rowan has turned me into a sniveling woman.

  Still she held his words tight to her heart deciding she didn’t care if she became a watering pot. Her fingers slid around his waist to pull him closer to her. With a deep sigh she relaxed against the hard planes of his chest.

  They didn’t speak for the longest time. Rowan’s fingers traced tiny circles between her shoulder blades and every so often he would press his lips to her hair. She could hear the fire Edith stoked earlier crackling and the beat of Rowan’s heart beneath her cheek. Arabella had never felt so safe. Secure.

  Finally, a rumble came from his chest and he picked her up. “Time for bed, Lady Malden.” He walked towards the door separating their rooms. “My beautiful Bella,” he whispered in her ear before laying her atop the coverlet.

  Rowan lay next to her, his hands exploring every line and curve of her body, stripping the chemise from her body in slow intervals. He worshipped her with his mouth and hands, wringing such intense pleasure from her, Arabella thought she would die from his ministrations. When finally she lay boneless and sated, only then did he finally join his body with hers to seek his own release.

  Arabella moaned his name, as she wrapped her body around his. Here was her safe harbor. The place she would always long to be. A member of the very family she’d sworn to hate and punish had now become the very center of her existence.

  I will tell him everything. Corbett. The Great Lie. Barker.

  The words that terrified her finally spilled from her lips as he thrust inside her.

  “I love you.”

  38

  “My lady, come see what has arrived for you.”

  Arabella looked up from the letter she was writing. Aunt Maisy had left nearly a fortnight ago, returning to the moors with Brendan at his insistence. Putting the letter aside, she looked at her maid in amusement.