Tall Dark and Wicked: The Wickeds Book 5

by Ayers, Kathleen

  Petra and her mother hadn’t been informed of such plans. Her opinion of Lady Pendleton, already not high, dropped another notch. Simon continued to study his watch to avoid catching Petra’s eye.

  “House party is a bit of an exaggeration,” Lady Pendleton cautioned her daughter. “It’s only the Divets, Baron Haddon, and perhaps a few others who will be staying the week. Barely enough to fill up our guest wing. I believe Haddon is bringing one of his daughters,” her voice grew thick with displeasure, “though I can’t for the life of me recall exactly which one. They are quite close in age and their faces all blur together in one’s mind.”

  “Thank goodness we came prepared.” Though she smiled politely, Mother was furious at being ambushed in such a way. Her plump form quivered like a plate of aspic. “I made sure to instruct my maid to include a choice of ballgowns for both myself and Petra,” Mother said with satisfaction, “in case such a situation should arise.”

  Katherine’s slender hand flew up to her throat. “Oh dear, I worried I would need to send for the seamstress in Castleton to assist with an appropriate gown to wear. With your delay in arriving I did worry there wouldn’t be time. I’m happy that won’t be necessary.”

  Bullocks. The house party had clearly been in the works for some time. Lady Pendleton and Mother had been corresponding about the trip to Brushbriar on a regular basis. Nothing about a ball and dancing had ever been mentioned. Nor had news of the house party reached them at Somerton. If Lady Pendleton meant to unsettle them, she was sadly mistaken. Mother’s skills at overpacking and being prepared for any occasion were legendary in the Marsh household.

  “Yes, how fortuitous.” Lady Pendleton echoed her daughter’s false sentiment.

  Katherine gave her mother a sideways glance. “And given their assistance to our guests, I thought it appropriate we extend an invitation to Lord Morwick and Lady Cupps-Foster to attend our little party as well. I’m sure they’ll only stay a night or two.” Katherine appeared incredibly pleased with herself.

  A flutter passed across Petra’s heart at the thought of Morwick here, at Brushbriar.

  Simon, who had nearly managed to escape the foyer, turned at his sister’s news, an ugly pinched look on his handsome face. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve invited the Earl of Morwick and his mother to join us.” Katherine spoke each word with determination. “They’ve accepted.”

  “Darling,” Lady Pendleton’s voice was curt with her own surprise. “You neglected to tell me you’d invited Morwick. And you say he’s accepted? He so rarely leaves Somerton. And I haven’t seen Marissa in ages.” Lady Pendleton managed with only a small curl of her upper lip. “What a delightful surprise.”

  “I think given the aid offered to Lady Marsh and her daughter, an invitation to our little party is the very least we can do. It will give Simon the opportunity to thank Lord Morwick personally.”

  “Of course. I’d not thought to include them in our original plans, as Marissa rarely socializes when in residence at Somerton. How wonderful they will be joining us.”

  Petra’s glance shot from Katherine’s smug assurance to Lady Pendleton and Simon, who were both trying to hide their displeasure at the news of Morwick invading Brushbriar.

  Lady Pendleton nodded to the housekeeper. “Please show our guests up, Mrs. Leonard, and have two additional rooms prepared for the Earl of Morwick and his mother.”

  “Of course, Lady Pendleton.” Mrs. Leonard, keys jingling, bowed before Mother. “This way, my lady.”

  “Consider our home yours for the duration of your stay. Mrs. Leonard will see you have everything you need,” Lady Pendleton added. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a mountain of correspondence that requires my attention, as well as the final preparations for our little house party.”

  “Of course.” Mother inclined her head. “Mrs. Leonard, please proceed.”

  “I must take my leave, Lady Marsh, Lady Petra.” Simon made a short bow. “I will see you both later at dinner. If you’ll excuse me?” Simon bestowed a charming smile on them, though there was no warmth in his eyes. “Shall I collect you for a walk about the gardens before dinner, Lady Petra? With your permission of course, Lady Marsh.”

  Petra automatically looked to her mother, who nodded her acceptance. She found it frustrating to ask her mother to approve something as mundane as a turn about the gardens. It had been so nice not to have a chaperone while Mother was ill. Her brief stretch of freedom was over.

  “That would be lovely,” Petra replied.

  “Until then.” Simon turned and strode down the hallway toward the back of the house. Almost as if on cue, a pair of spaniels, tails wagging, appeared from the depths of the house to trail at his heels.

  “My lady,” Mrs. Leonard repeated, before starting up the stairs. “If you will follow me.”

  Petra stayed a step behind her mother and the beefy housekeeper and Katherine stuck to her side. Apparently Simon’s sister had more to say.

  “I’d forgotten how much my brother dislikes Morwick.” Her tone was unapologetic. “I’d thought Simon had outgrown such a thing.”

  Conveniently forgotten, Petra thought. The invitation to Morwick and Lady Cupps-Foster was probably in retaliation for Simon forcing Katherine to return to Brushbriar.

  “We all grew up together, Simon, me, and Morwick. We played hide and seek on the moors and went exploring. I’ve missed seeing him.” She pressed her hand to Petra’s arm.

  A look had entered Katherine’s eyes as she spoke of Morwick. A look that spoke of more than childhood friendship.

  “Mother likes to have a sherry in the large drawing room before dinner. It would be best if you weren’t late.” She glided back toward the stairs, pewter skirts wafting around her ankles gracefully.

  Petra was trying very hard not to dislike her. She’d have to be an idiot not to hear the meaning in Katherine’s words. The house party wasn’t Katherine’s distraction, Morwick was.

  It’s none of my business. But the jealousy leaked into her chest all the same.

  As she watched the other woman make her way down the stairs like a beautiful, tragic swan, Petra had the unkind, uncharacteristic inclination to push Katherine down the them.

  10

  Petra took a deep breath as she was ushered into the drawing room before dinner, mentally preparing herself for the evening. After a nap, she’d indulged in a long, hot bath and requested tea in her room. Now better fortified, she prepared to acquaint herself with Simon’s family.

  Simon himself would be missing from the drawing room. He’d sent a curt note explaining business matters required his attention until dinner and their walk in the gardens would have to be postponed.

  Petra was hardly surprised. Her discomfort with Simon and Brushbriar had increased tenfold since the Marsh coach had arrived earlier in the day.

  The drawing room was even more garishly decorated than the foyer of Brushbriar. Blue John had been tucked into each available nook of the large room. Four floor-to-ceiling windows faced the moors, each possessing a windowpane of Blue John. A fire crackled in the immense fireplace, large enough for Petra to walk in to. The mantle and hearth were made of the rare mineral. A small table to Lady Pendleton’s right held an enormous egg carved of Blue John, held aloft by a gilt stand.

  Petra found the entire room overdone and bordering on vulgar.

  Mother was already here, seated to Lady Pendleton’s right. The girlish curls she sometimes affected were bouncing to and fro as she nodded in agreement to a story her hostess related. Mother appeared absolutely fascinated by Lady Pendleton’s conversation and barely blinked when her daughter was announced.

  “There you are, dearest.” Mother looked up as she entered the room. “I do hope you’re well rested.” Her eyes ran over Petra’s attire searching for anything warranting her disapproval; apparently finding nothing, a satisfied smile crossed her lips.

  “I’m quite refreshed, thank you.” Petra dipped to both Lady Pendleton
and her daughter. “Good evening, Lady Pendleton, Lady Whitfield.”

  Both ladies inclined their heads in acknowledgement.

  “Come, sit next to me.” Katherine patted a nearby chair, dark eyes gleaming. “So that we may become better acquainted.”

  Petra settled herself in the chair indicated. She perched on the cushion, posture so ram-rod straight one could put a plate of food on her head and not a drop would spill. Indeed, that had been a game of Mother’s years ago. A plate of peas, rolling about a small saucer would be placed upon her head while tea was served. If even one pea left the plate, Petra was denied anything to eat and had to wait until dinner. “What a lovely gown.” Petra nodded to Katherine.

  The dress, cut in the latest fashion, was of shimmering dove-gray silk. An underskirt shot through with deep indigo thread, brushed her matching slippers. The neckline, decorated with ribbon matching the underskirt, was rather dramatic and Katherine’s very ample assets were on full display. Hardly appropriate widow’s weeds. The cloud of Katherine’s dark sable hair was pulled away from her face and piled atop her head in a spill of curls. The hairstyle emphasized her delicate bone structure and the swanlike length of her neck. Small diamonds dangled from her ears and a pear-shaped diamond hung between the deep valley of her breasts.

  Katherine was stunningly beautiful, Petra acknowledged, looking down at her own pale yellow dress. She had never felt more like a child playing dress up than she did next to Katherine’s sophistication and style.

  Katherine’s full lips pulled into a smile as she noted Petra’s assessment.

  She’s trying to intimidate me. And thus far succeeding brilliantly.

  “I was growing concerned your previous ailment had returned.” Petra’s mother looked up from her conversation, plump fingers clutching the glass of sherry, eyes systematically checking her daughter’s posture for any deficit.

  “I’m quite well, Mother.” Petra’s hands slid together and locked atop her lap. Her mother’s gown was the color of a blackberry and coupled with her generous form, invited all sorts of unwelcome comparisons.

  “I trust you find your rooms acceptable?” Katherine asked.

  “Yes, thank you. They’re lovely. How kind of you to inquire,” Petra said automatically, knowing she was doomed to another evening of polite conversation about nothing.

  “I must thank you,” Lady Pendleton said from her place on the couch as she took a generous sip of sherry. “I have been looking forward to your visit for weeks, not only because it gives us all a chance to know one another better, but also because it has given me an opportunity to entertain. I don’t think we’ve had guests at Brushbriar since dear Katherine was to marry Whitfield.” Her eyes grew wistful. “The engagement party was the stuff of legends.”

  “I’m sure it will be a marvelous time,” Mother said.

  Petra didn’t think Mother had yet gotten over the fact they’d been surprised by the news of the house party. Her fingers toyed with the folds of her skirt, a sure sign of annoyance. “We are looking forward to meeting your neighbors.”

  “All of our friends are lovely, of course, but I’m especially looking forward to seeing Lord Haddon. He’s a widower.” Lady Pendleton gave her daughter a pointed look. “And a handsome, wealthy one at that. The poor man has four daughters and each of them a trial. I read again his reply to our invitation and Haddon will be bringing his eldest daughter, Jordana, to Brushbriar. He finds our little party to be a perfect opportunity for the girl to practice her dancing and social skills. She’ll have her first Season soon.”

  “I do hope he’s had more luck with her manners. Haddon has lost yet another dancing instructor for the Haddon Hellions,” Katherine interjected. “This one, Mr. Gatwick, recommended by the Countess of Suffolk no less, ran from the house without taking his belongings. He took the first coach to London and sent for his things rather than stay at Bronsby Abbey one more night.”

  Mother’s sherry was poised at her bottom lip. “Dear me.”

  “The girls are only in dire need of a strong, feminine hand.” Lady Pendleton shot another warning glance at Katherine. “Haddon is looking for a wife. His has been dead for over five years. High time he remarried.”

  “He will need to look elsewhere,” Katherine murmured in a low tone.

  “I confess, Katherine was right to correct my error and invite Lord Morwick and his mother. We were once quite close, you know. Before…” Her words trailed off. “Poor, dear Marissa. She’s had her share of tragedy, hasn’t she? Widowed three times, each time under mysterious, tragic circumstances. My husband and the late earl, Reginald, were friends and often went hunting together.” She shook her head. “When he disappeared…” Lady Pendleton allowed the words to hang in the air, “we never found any sign of him even though every man in the county searched for days. He had vanished without a trace and no one has seen him since.”

  Petra immediately stiffened at Lady Pendleton’s recounting of the tragedy of Morwick’s father. Gossiping old harpy.

  “So I’ve been told,” Mother agreed. “Even in London, his disappearance is still discussed. Lady Cupps-Foster has endured much.”

  “Indeed, I’m sure you’ve noticed how eccentric Morwick is. Katherine, Simon and Morwick all ran about the moors together, the greatest of friends. But, Morwick.” She shook her head sadly as if it pained her to impart such information. “He and Simon were often at odds. One well-mannered, one rather savage.”

  There was no doubt who she though the savage.

  “Not to mention Morwick’s elder brother, Baron Kelso. A brute and a bully. He was constantly picking fights with Simon. Between the brawling and the Gypsies—”

  “Gypsies?” Mother set down her empty glass.

  “Yes. I forbade Simon to associate with Morwick after that.” She glanced at Katherine. “And Katherine as well. Morwick would disappear, much like his father, for days at a time. Marissa often worried her son would run away with the tribe for he adored the colored wagons they drove. Katherine did not heed my warning about associating with such…people.”

  “The Gypsies were interesting.” Katherine lifted her chin in defiance. “I could hardly blame him for chasing after them or their wagons. The women wore the most gorgeous scarves and dresses, all in bright yellows, reds, and purple. And they danced barefoot around the fire. I declare I could not look away.”

  “Katherine,” Lady Pendleton warned. “Your childish observations are in no way based in reality. The Gypsies were dirty, ill-mannered thieves who stole sheep and picked pockets when no one was looking.”

  Katherine’s lips tightened at the rebuke.

  “Regardless,” Lady Pendleton said, “Morwick didn’t care to be a gentlemen. When the old duke of Dunbar finally took a firm hand with his grandson, it was too late, in my opinion. Morwick had been overindulged by his mother, who was too busy mourning her late husband to raise him properly.”

  Petra’s hands clasped so forcefully she thought her knuckles would snap. While the information was identical to the stories Lady Cupps-Foster and Morwick had imparted to her, the retelling by Lady Pendleton was far different.

  “Morwick’s brother, Spencer,” Lady Pendleton continued, “is a horse of a different color altogether, isn’t he Katherine? The bully turned into a rogue.” Mother and daughter exchanged looks. “A bigger rake I’ve never seen, except for his father, of course. Kelso is likely terrorizing society in India as we speak. He’s not been back to England in years.” She tapped her upper lip. “Mayhap he’ll never return. Look at me.” Her eyes widened at Mother. “Gossiping away. Pray forgive me. I’ve not had the opportunity to converse with another lady in quite some time.”

  Petra struggled not to roll her eyes. Simon’s mother knew exactly what she was doing. Mother was practically salivating, both at the gossip as well as Lady Pendleton’s appreciation of her company. She would repeat Lady Pendleton’s version of the events which painted Morwick and Lady Cupps-Foster’s tragic past with less sym
pathy. Which, she supposed, was exactly Lady Pendleton’s intent.

  “And of course, Lady Cupps-Foster’s family is as infamous as they come. The old duke struck terror into the hearts of London and I’m told his nephew, the current duke is no better. I understand you are now related to the Devils of Dunbar through marriage?”

  Mother’s throat worked. “My niece, Jemma, married His Grace some time ago.”

  A calculated look entered Lady Pendleton’s eyes. “I must know how such a thing came about.” She patted Mother’s hands. “I’ve heard from my friends in London, of course, but that is only gossip and conjecture.”

  Mother’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in such a tale.”

  “But I am.” Lady Pendleton said. “We are family, dear Lady Marsh, after all.”

  Lady Pendleton knew her audience well. Mother’s eyes glistened with the compliment that Lady Pendleton considered them family. “My niece, Jane Emily, and the duke met…” Mother’s voice lowered as she related the tale to their hostess.

  Petra had to admit. It was a rather juicy story.

  Katherine turned sideways in her chair, uninterested in Mother’s tale. She regarded Petra with no small amount of boredom, which she didn’t bother hiding. “Well, I suppose you must tell me about your journey.”

  Petra found Katherine to be a most interesting creature. She’d been at turns pleasant, condescending, and intimidating. She seemed determined to keep Petra unsettled. Petra’s hope she might find an ally at Brushbriar was rapidly fading. “Must I? The journey was uneventful until the coach axle broke. Shall I relate the contents of the spoiled stew I ate?”

  Katherine’s eyes widened for a moment surprise at Petra’s retort but was soon replaced with a grudging gleam of admiration. “I’m sure we both know I’ve no interest in your tedious journey. I’m far more interested in the occupants of Somerton, particularly Lord Morwick.” Dark eyes flashed with interest. “I haven’t seen him since I first returned to Brushbriar, and, as my mother has related, we were once great friends.” Her voice lowered to a purr. “Is he still in need of a haircut?”