The Wicked Cousin

by Stella Riley

  Ignoring her hand, he stood his ground and bowed. ‘Good afternoon, Miranda.’

  Her brows rose a little. Then, when he still did not move, she stood up and on a tiny gurgle of laughter, said, ‘You are very punctilious today. I know last night was a shock – but you must surely have got over it by now. And if you’re lurking by the door because you are afraid we might be interrupted, you need not. Andrews is aware that I’m not at home to other visitors. So stop trying to intimidate me with that stern expression and come and kiss me.’

  She waited, confident that he would obey. That humiliating certainty added a touch of anger to Sebastian’s other feelings and he said coolly, ‘Please don’t address me as if I were a lapdog or a child, Miranda. I am neither.’

  ‘Oh – trust me, my sweet. I know you are not.’ Her gaze slid over his body, lingering in places where no lady should be looking before returning at length to his face. ‘But you are also clearly not in the best of humours.’

  That, he thought grimly, was fast becoming an understatement. He’d hoped to keep this exchange cordial for as long as possible but she was already setting his teeth on edge. Unclenching his jaw, he said, ‘If I have given that impression, I can only beg your pardon. But the simple fact is that I believe we need to clarify a few things.’

  ‘Of course we do – and we will. But there’s no hurry.’ Since he’d refused to come to her, she strolled towards him, once more offering her hand. Still utterly sure of herself, she tossed back the torrent of pale gold curls and said huskily, ‘We have all the time in the world, do we not?’

  No. We don’t.

  Tempting as it was to say it, he realised he couldn’t be quite so blunt – or not until he’d established that her expectations really were what he thought they were. Summoning something he hoped resembled a smile, he said, ‘Humour me, if you please.’

  Her expression narrowed, making it quite clear that she didn’t please. But she turned away, sank into a chair and said, ‘Very well. By all means let us get it over with. What was it you wanted to say?’

  ‘You said your husband died nearly a year ago. What happened?’

  ‘He was set upon in the street. A robbery gone wrong, the authorities said – though the culprits were never caught. His body was found in the Tagus a few days later.’

  From her tone, she might have been talking about an overset milk jug. This, coupled with the fact that Silvarez must have met his death only a short time after Sebastian himself had quit Lisbon, bred a suspicion that chilled him to the bone. He tried to tell himself he was letting his imagination run away with him and shoved the question to the back of his mind.

  He said slowly, ‘And then you returned to England?’

  ‘Yes. There was nothing for me in Lisbon and I’d had enough of the place.’

  He wondered how financially comfortable Silvarez had left her. He also wondered how she’d managed to inveigle her way far enough into polite society that she’d received an invitation to Cavendish House. He knew how the world of the English aristocracy worked; it closed its ranks against anyone who didn’t have the right connections – and he was fairly sure that Miranda Silvarez didn’t.

  He tried a gentle probe. ‘Of course. I imagine you have family here.’

  ‘Some distant relatives. No one of any consequence, if that’s what you mean.’ came the slightly impatient reply. ‘What is all this about, Sebastian? You’re behaving very oddly.’

  ‘Then perhaps I should come to the point. To my certain recollection, we said goodbye to each other in Lisbon … but your behaviour last night suggested that you think otherwise.’

  ‘Of course I think otherwise! And your memory is at fault. Our parting was never meant to be final. You left because James was returning from Madeira. Once he went away again, I expected you to come back. Perhaps you’d like to explain why you didn’t.’

  Blinking, Sebastian thought, I didn’t because I never intended to. And as for the rest, that’s not how I remember it at all.

  It was true that Silvarez had sent word that he was travelling to Lisbon and also true that he himself had used that as an excuse to leave. But he’d never said he’d return; indeed, he distinctly recalled telling Miranda that their affair was over.

  Who is she lying to? he wondered. Me – or herself?

  ‘I don’t believe,’ he said carefully, ‘that I made you any such promise.’

  ‘You didn’t need to. We both knew we were destined to be together – even though at the time, it wasn’t possible. But James’s death has changed that.’

  And there it was … announced as though there was no possibility of argument.

  ‘Has it? In what way?’

  ‘Oh don’t be so obtuse. What on earth is the matter with you?’ She was still smiling but there was a hard glint in her eyes. ‘Back in Lisbon, we talked of divorce but you said it wasn’t possible. Now I’m a widow so there are no longer any obstacles between us and nothing to prevent us marrying.’

  Nothing except that I’d sooner have my fingernails torn out, he thought grimly. However, I suppose I’d better not say it in quite those words.

  As it happened, Miranda didn’t give him chance to say anything at all. Tucking a hand through his arm, she said, ‘When James died, I tried to find you so I could let you know. I discovered you’d gone to Madrid – but after that, it was as if you’d vanished into thin air. Then I realised that you would return to England eventually so I came here to wait until you did. And now we’re reunited at last.’

  Sebastian was starting to feel faintly queasy. Could she seriously believe this rubbish about fate and the two of them having some unspoken but implicit understanding? One thing was plain, however. Whether she believed it or not, it was time to put the reality of the situation beyond any possible doubt.

  Withdrawing his arm from her hold, he said, ‘I don’t wish to upset you, Miranda and I certainly don’t want to be rude, but I think it best to speak plainly. Quite simply, I believe I made it clear that our affair ended when I left Lisbon and that there was never any intention of resuming it. I’m sorry if you see it differently. But for my part, that is how it was – and still is.’

  She shook her head and said emphatically, ‘I don’t believe that. I’ll never believe it. You haven’t forgotten how it was between us. You can’t have done.’

  ‘What I may or may not remember isn’t the point; though if I’m honest, I find it difficult to accept that you’ve wasted months waiting for me when you must have had other, much better offers.’

  ‘Is that what troubles you? The possibility that I’ve had other lovers?’

  ‘Not at all. My concern is --’

  ‘Foolish Sebastian.’ She laughed but the sound was slightly off-key. ‘I haven’t sought other offers – and there certainly couldn’t be better ones. As for waiting for you … how can you possibly imagine that I wouldn’t? You know that I love you – just as you love me.’

  For several incredulous seconds, words failed him. Then he said curtly, ‘Next you will be saying that I actually told you that.’

  ‘Of course you did. Often.’

  ‘No, Miranda. I’ve never in my entire life said those words to any woman and I most assuredly did not say them to you. Oh – I don’t deny that I was completely besotted with you. Idiotically so, in fact. But love? No.’

  This time there was a very real spark of anger in both eyes and voice.

  ‘You’ve changed your tune since last night. Why is that, I wonder?’

  ‘Last night, as you very well know, I was taken by surprise. Also, we were in what amounted to a public place.’

  ‘Not so public that you couldn’t kiss me in a way that told me exactly how you feel about me – but which you are now trying to worm your way out of.’

  ‘You aren’t listening.’ Sebastian could feel his patience growing thin. ‘You are an extraordinarily beautiful woman and we had a very enjoyable affair which lasted longer than most. But it ran its course and ended over
a year ago. It can’t be rekindled and I haven’t the remotest desire to try. As for the death of your husband … that is immaterial as far as you and I are concerned. There was never any question of marriage between us – neither in Lisbon, nor now. How much clearer must I make it? I will not marry you. And though I’m sorry if that isn’t --’

  ‘There is someone else?’ she demanded sharply. ‘Some other woman?’

  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not contemplating marriage at all. This is about you and me – no one else. I’m simply asking you to understand what I’ve said and accept that it isn’t going to change. There is nothing between us any more, Miranda. It was over – permanently over – a long time ago.’

  ‘I see.’ The thick, silky lashes veiled her eyes and there was a long silence during which he allowed himself to hope that she might give in gracefully. Then she looked up at him with a cold, hard smile and, in an ominously soft voice, said, ‘It would be unwise to make an enemy of me, you know.’

  Given his suspicions about the death of Silvarez, Sebastian recognised that this was probably true. She’d always had a ruthless streak and, due to her incredible looks, believed that to want was to have. He’d known her supreme self-confidence meant she wouldn’t take rejection well. In truth, he doubted if she’d ever before encountered it. But he couldn’t let her go on thinking he could be tempted back into her bed or that there was the remotest chance of him offering her his name.

  ‘Enmity, Miranda? That was never – could never - be my intention. But I had to put an end to these misconceptions of yours. Not to do so would be inexcusable.’ He decided a placating lie couldn’t hurt. ‘And with the past behind us, I’d hoped we might be friends.’

  ‘Friends? If that is what you hoped, you are going about it very badly. I never took you for a stupid man, Sebastian … but really, I’m starting to wonder.’ She came to her feet and took a few steps away before pivoting to face him. ‘So I deserve your honesty, do I?’

  Her tone had acquired a cutting edge and the expression on her face worried him.

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘I didn’t deserve it last night though, did I? Why was that? I’d assumed you were hiding behind a locked door to escape from foolish little girls … but perhaps I was mistaken. Did I stumble on a tryst? Was there a lady concealed somewhere in that room?’

  Sebastian’s throat tightened but he gave a careless laugh and said, ‘Concealed where? Under the table? Behind the curtains? That’s an absurd notion – particularly since I’d been in London less than twenty-four hours. Even I can’t move that quickly.’

  ‘Perhaps … perhaps not. But you were certainly very eager to get me out of the library, weren’t you?’ She stared at him and, with a sinking feeling, he watched her put it together. ‘Ah. That’s what the kiss was about, wasn’t it? Getting me away from the library and back to the ballroom? But why? If there wasn’t some silly little chit listening to every word …’ She paused and gave a harsh laugh. ‘Oh you poor, pathetic man. Terrified I’d claim you’d compromised me and you’d have to marry me anyway, were you?’

  Recognising that the gloves were now off with a vengeance, Sebastian shrugged.

  ‘On present showing, that’s not something that can be discounted.’

  ‘I will never be that desperate!’ she spat back. ‘However … you say I deserve honesty. So let’s talk about what you deserve, shall we? Has it escaped your notice that I was prepared to forgive the insulting way you quit Lisbon with scarcely a word, fleeing as if the hounds of hell were after you? And then, nothing. Not even a note. But though you didn’t deserve it, I decided to forgive you; to be generous – and you’ve flung it back in my face. And don’t - don’t say that wasn’t your intention either. Your intentions don’t matter a jot.’ She looked at him over folded arms, venom in both eyes and voice. ‘I offered you a second chance, Sebastian. Do you know how often I’ve done that? How many men I’ve considered worthy of it? None. Not one, ever … until you. You should be on your knees in gratitude. I gave you what dukes have begged for. You – a man with no title of his own and heir only to a paltry viscount. What can I have been thinking?’

  He hadn’t meant to say anything. He’d meant to let her rant until all the bile was gone. Instead, he said dispassionately, ‘Probably that the dukes wouldn’t offer you marriage but the paltry future viscount might.’

  She slapped his face so hard that his ears rang.

  ‘Do you think there was a man in that ballroom last night who wouldn’t give a fortune for what you have refused?’

  ‘Not very many.’ He managed an encouraging smile. ‘Perhaps you should make a list and ask those at the top of it to submit bids.’

  For a long, scorching moment Miranda stared at him, wild with temper. Then she said slowly, ‘You will regret this.’

  ‘No. I don’t believe I will.’

  ‘And that,’ she replied, stalking past him to open the door, ‘is the second big mistake you’ve made this afternoon. Now get out.’

  * * *

  Almost before the front door shut behind Mr Audley, Lady Silvarez was scrawling a furious summons to Mr Penhaligon. And when, some hours later, he obeyed it, she said, ‘Are you still finding Sebastian Audley an inconvenience?’

  He shrugged, unsure where this was coming from.

  ‘An irritation, certainly. Why?’

  ‘He has insulted me.’ Both eyes and tone were razor-edged. ‘I want him to pay for it.’

  ‘Oh no, Miranda! If you think I’m challenging him to a duel --’

  ‘Don’t be a fool. I don’t want him dead. I want him destroyed. And though I have an idea about how to achieve that, it will take time to arrange – meanwhile, I want you to make his life difficult and damage his social standing. It shouldn’t be hard. The man’s never been able to resist a challenge.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It didn’t take Olivia long to find out that Wicked Cousin Sebastian had finally appeared in society and, trapping her sister away from Mama’s keen ears, she demanded details. Cassie maintained the same fiction she’d given their mother and with as little additional information as she was allowed to get away with.

  Yes, she had seen Mr Audley. No, they had not been introduced. And yes, he was quite handsome; tall and elegant with blue eyes and red hair. Olivia had found the last of these disappointing. Cassie refused to wax lyrical over what precise shade of red because Livy frequently jumped to undesirable conclusions. Privately, however, she thought, You wouldn’t be disappointed if you’d seen it.

  The excuse of not having been introduced to Mr Audley lasted for four days. During them, though he had been present at a couple of social events, they had not been the ones attended by Cassie. He had been seen in the park, astride a powerful chestnut and rumour also spoke of a sleek town-carriage – causing a furore of speculation among the younger ladies about which of them would be the first to ride in it. But the gossip among the gentlemen which did not reach the ladies was of the sudden rash of would-be wagers inside the elegant surroundings of Sinclairs.

  Although Sebastian had expected it he still found he had to work quite hard at appearing relaxed. Fortunately, the first few were easy to dismiss.

  ‘Swim the length of the Serpentine,’ said Algernon Dudley.

  ‘I’ve already done that.’

  ‘At the fashionable hour?’

  ‘Of course. Otherwise, what would be the point?’

  Mr Dudley thought about it and then said hopefully, ‘Naked?’

  ‘Ah.’ Idly shuffling a pack of cards, Sebastian smiled slowly. ‘You are suggesting a race?’

  Lord Nicholas Wynstanton gave a crack of laughter.

  ‘A race?’ Mr Dudley narrowly avoided choking. ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘What a pity. If you had, I might have been tempted.’

  This time everyone laughed.

  ‘Hold up a coach on Hounslow Heath,’ offered Ludovic Sterne lazily.

  �
��I’ve done that, too.’ Sebastian glanced round and added, ‘Lord Maybury will confirm, I believe.’

  ‘Stole my grandfather’s watch and returned it next day with a note of apology,’ grinned his lordship. ‘Didn’t recognise him at the time – but then I was pretty foxed.’

  ‘I’ll give you a race,’ called out Viscount Carling. ‘To Brighton – on horseback.’

  Sebastian sighed. ‘I’ve done that at least three times.’

  ‘Not with a doxy riding pillion, you haven’t.’

  ‘Actually … I have. Against Gerry Delahaye, as I recall. Sorry.’

  More laughter, followed by a brief pause as numerous gentlemen strove to think up something Mr Audley hadn’t done.

  ‘A carriage race?’ said someone without much hope.

  ‘Ask me again when I’ve acquired a racing vehicle – and if the terms are sufficiently interesting, I’ll consider it.’

  Another silence. Then, Richard Penhaligon said slowly, ‘Letty Laroux is the newest face at the Theatre Royal and currently open to offers, I believe. Take her to a ton ball and pass her off as a foreign countess.’

  Well, thought Sebastian. At last.

  ‘I did once take a courtesan to a levée at Versailles,’ he confessed, ‘but that isn’t quite the same thing as abusing a gentleman’s hospitality under his own roof, is it?’ He let a long pause develop and then shrugged. ‘My apologies, sir. I can’t do it. It would result in my losing a private wager to which I’m already committed.’

  A murmur of renewed interest rippled around the room.

  ‘What wager?’ asked Mr Penhaligon, his tone openly disbelieving. ‘And with whom?’