Wicked Again (The Wickeds Book 7)

by Kathleen Ayers

  She was sure Lydia was anxiously waiting to see whether or not Marissa would make the claim public, which would make Simon the recipient of untold attention.

  Let her worry. How long did Reggie wait, dying in a cave, for rescue?

  Timing was everything. The markers would be called due first. Shortly thereafter, Marissa meant to make the lawsuit public. She would also feed the gossip hounds of London with conjecture about why the ownership of the mine was being disputed. With so much negative publicity, Sir Richard was bound to call off the courtship of his daughter, especially when Simon’s brilliant career became nonexistent. His supporters would leave him. He would be destitute and hardly considered a catch any longer. Lydia would have no hope of ever being saved.

  Just like Reggie.

  The noose was tightening. It should have brought her much more joy that her plans were coming to fruition. But all she could think of was Haddon. She could not shake the memory of his face after she’d called their relationship meaningless. Marissa had hurt him, far worse than she could have imagined.

  But he seemed to have recovered quickly, if the gossips were correct.

  “How is your Lord Haddon?”

  Marissa didn’t answer her niece right away. She knew he was well; certainly Jordana, who showed up to have tea with Marissa several times a week, would inform her if he was not. Haddon’s daughter took great pains to never mention anything about her father, foiling several attempts on Marissa’s part to glean more information. But she’d heard the gossip. The handsome widower’s attention to the daughter of the Marquess of Stanton, Lady Christina Sykes, was no secret. Nor was his interest in several other young ladies.

  “He’s not my Lord Haddon.”

  “Indeed not, if the rumors are true.” Arabella gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Ours was a brief association, Arabella.” Sending Haddon from her, dismissing him from her life, hadn’t stopped Marissa’s heart from breaking. Instead, she seemed in a constant state of melancholy. “I was a novelty to him, nothing more.”

  “And what was he to you, Aunt?”

  The answer to her niece’s question was complicated and fraught with danger for Marissa. She refused to think too hard on it. “While it was amusing to have a younger man pay me attention, Haddon was no more than a dalliance, as he could only be for a woman my age.”

  “You make yourself sound quite ancient, which is ridiculous. You are far from being an elderly matron along the lines of the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne. Besides,” Arabella’s voice softened, “I saw the way he looked at you.”

  Marissa’s eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. “Haddon is in the market for a wife. He’s got four daughters and is in need of a son.”

  “Are you sure of that, Aunt?” Arabella shrugged when Marissa didn’t answer. “At any rate, I find Christina Sykes to be an annoying creature. She twitters.”

  “She does indeed.”

  Thinking of Haddon and Lady Christina Sykes did nothing to brighten Marissa’s mood.

  “Well, look who has arrived.” Arabella nodded in the direction of the door. “I thought she might accompany Lady Higgins.”

  So had Marissa.

  Magnificently coiffed in a gown of pale gray silk, Lady Pendleton sidled into the room like an overdressed crab. Pale skin stretched taut across the sharp bones of her face, drawing attention to the sunken hollows of her cheeks. Lips thinning, Lydia took in the assemblage gathered in the room.

  Marissa smiled. Lydia had little charity in her heart for anyone. How annoyed she must be, forced to attend with Lady Higgins, a woman Lydia most certainly considered beneath her.

  Next to Lydia and Lady Higgins stood an unremarkable looking young girl, several years older than Jordana. Simon’s intended bride was perfectly suitable at first glance. She was incredibly average in every way possible. Slender, but not painfully thin. Dark brown hair like dozens of other girls. Wide blue eyes above gently rounded cheeks. Tiny rosebud of a mouth.

  Lydia said something to Miss Higgins and the girl immediately looked down at her slippers as if studying the stitching across the top.

  A frown tugged at Marissa’s lips. Horribly docile. Probably lacks the ability to think on her own. Exactly the sort of young lady Lydia would deem perfect for her precious son.

  If nothing else, I need to save that poor girl from having to endure Lydia as a mother-in-law.

  Lydia gave a roll of her shoulders, one of her patent disingenuous laughs filling the air while her head tilted back as if horribly amused. Her head jerked sharply as she caught sight of Marissa sitting across the room, Arabella at her side.

  “Oh, dear. She doesn’t look happy to see you, Aunt. I can’t imagine why,” Arabella said with a small laugh. “I do hope she simply detests meeting me and realizes she cannot so much as give me a sour look. Lady Higgins holds this charity very near and dear to her heart. And I’m the largest donor in attendance, besides Lady Higgins.”

  “Are you? I didn’t realize you’d found miners to be worthy of your charity, Arabella. You’ve never shown concern for their plight before.”

  “Well,” Arabella nodded in the direction of Lady Higgins, “Cornwall is full of miners and also mine owners, most of whom do business with Sir Richard Higgins through one of his banks. Lady Higgins considers herself to be quite the philanthropist, as evidenced by her support of the Chenwith Society, to which I am now a generous contributor.”

  “Clever girl, aren’t you, Bella?”

  “My husband thinks so. Besides, Rowan has interests in Cornwall.”

  Of course he did. Arabella’s husband had his hand in a great many interests, the multitude so great, Marissa found it boggled the mind. How in the world did anyone think Rowan merely a lovely gentleman who charmed the ladies of the ton and drank scotch with their husbands?

  “I am not surprised at the news of Rowan’s interests in Cornwall.”

  Arabella gave a soft chuckle.

  Lady Higgins’s gaze landed on Arabella, fairly beaming when Marissa’s niece inclined her head in the woman’s direction. It was clear Lady Higgins was thrilled to see Arabella attending a gathering of the Chenwith Society.

  As well she should. The patronage of the Duke of Dunbar’s sister would give Lady Higgins and her projects, including the Chenwith Society, a great deal of support and attract the patronage of other wealthy ladies.

  Taking her daughter’s arm, Lady Higgins whispered to Lydia before proceeding toward Arabella.

  Face soured with displeasure, Lydia peered around the room as if looking for a way to exit gracefully before her eyes fell on Marissa again. She stiffened her narrow shoulders, resigned to the inevitable.

  Marissa wanted to giggle at her discomfort. This was most enjoyable.

  Arabella stood gracefully to greet Lady Higgins.

  “Lady Malden.” Lady Higgins bobbed politely upon reaching them. “Pardon the intrusion.” She looked at Marissa in apology.

  “Not at all, Lady Higgins.” Arabella bestowed a gracious smile. “May I present my aunt, Lady Cupps-Foster.”

  Lady Higgins was a perfectly lovely woman whose dark brown hair and blue eyes were the same as her daughter’s. She was well-dressed in a simply cut dress the color of amethyst, her jewelry tasteful and not ostentatious. Lady Higgins, though visibly impressed with Arabella, did not seem inclined to pander to her niece, and Marissa liked her all the more for it.

  It was a shame she would have to ruin her daughter’s courtship.

  “A pleasure, Lady Higgins.” Marissa greeted her with a touch of her hand. “My niece was just mentioning to me your work with the Chenwith Society. I find your interest in the welfare of others to be inspiring.”

  Lady Higgins colored with pleasure at the thought Arabella had been speaking of her.

  Lydia’s mouth pursed and wrinkled, clearly displeased.

  “My daughter, Miss Clare Higgins,” Lady Higgins continued, “and our dear friend, Lady Pendleton.”

  �
�A pleasure.” Arabella greeted them both politely. “I adore your dress, Miss Higgins. Very becoming.”

  The girl blushed prettily. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Lady Pendleton,” Lady Higgins said, “is visiting us all the way from Derbyshire. You may be familiar with her son, Viscount Pendleton.”

  “I am indeed as I am with the lady herself,” Marissa said. “How lovely to see you again, Lady Pendleton.” At Lady Higgins’s surprise, she said, “My late husband’s estate borders that of Viscount Pendleton. We are old friends, aren’t we?” She placed a hand on Lydia’s forearm as if in affection, gratified when the old witch flinched as if Marissa had seared her with a poker.

  “A pleasure to see you, Lady Cupps-Foster.” Lydia sounded brittle, as if chips of ice were lodged in her throat. She stepped back just enough for Marissa’s fingers to drop from her sleeve.

  Marissa gave her a sweet smile.

  “Lady Malden,” Lady Higgins started, “I wanted to thank you personally for your generous donation to the Chenwith Society. Your patronage has come as such a pleasant surprise. We are a small organization and there are those who feel our charity isn’t needed, but we do very good work.” Lady Higgins beamed, her passion evident. “So many of our miners lack proper food and medical care, as you will hear when Dr. Linwood speaks. Worse, if they perish while toiling away, their families are left to starve with little recourse. Or sent to the workhouse. And I don’t believe any childhood should be spent digging for tin.” The small curls dangling against her temple quivered in subtle indignation.

  “I’ve always felt it a duty,” Arabella placed a hand on her chest, “to help others when we can, regardless of their station in life. You are to be commended, Lady Higgins, for your generous heart.”

  Another blush of pleasure pinked Lady Higgins’s cheeks. “I knew we were of like mind, Lady Malden. Sir Richard has been ridiculed by some of our acquaintances because he does care for those less fortunate. Viscount Pendleton has fortunately embraced such reforms.”

  “I understand him to be one of Parliament’s brightest stars,” Arabella said.

  “I’ve never seen anyone so passionate and devoted to the welfare of others,” Lady Higgins said, her admiration for Pendleton evident.

  “How gratifying for you, Lady Pendleton,” Marissa said, struggling to hide her amusement as Lady Higgins extolled Simon’s virtues. She wouldn’t be quite so effusive in a month or so.

  “Incredibly so. Pendleton has made something of his life.” Lydia’s eyes, like bits of flint, glared at Marissa. “Unlike other young, overindulged gentlemen who due to their poor upbringing lack the discipline to finish their studies and make something of themselves. Breeding itself is no guarantee a gentleman won’t fall in with disreputable company. One wonders how such men avoid the gallows given their cutthroat tendencies.”

  Lydia really needed to work on her insults. Perhaps she was out of practice. Her mild slurs against Brendan and Spencer barely roused Marissa’s anger.

  “True. I do wonder how Lord Pendleton became such a paragon, but then I recall you had an excellent nursemaid for him. And a governess.” She smiled sweetly.

  Oh dear. When Lydia’s eyes bulged, she was very unattractive.

  “Are you enjoying the round of parties this season, Miss Higgins?” Marissa turned to the girl Lydia meant to have as a daughter-in-law.

  Miss Higgins, shy to a fault, murmured something adequate and stared back down at her slippers.

  Marissa had the inclination to shake the docility right out of prim little Miss Higgins. She didn’t subscribe to being well-mannered to the point you disappeared. A girl must possess some spirit.

  She cast a sideways glance at Lydia, taking note of her bloodshot eyes and the deeply etched brackets around her lips. A whiff of the air around her brought forth the scent of spirits.

  Brandy.

  Arabella purposefully placed her hand on Lady Higgins’s forearm, leading the woman and her daughter away, asking if they’d been to the opera.

  Her niece disliked the opera.

  As soon as Lady Higgins and her daughter moved several paces away out of hearing range, Lydia pounced, as Marissa knew she would, curling up to her like the venomous snake she was.

  “If you think you’ve somehow outsmarted me, Marissa, think again.” The brandy on Lydia’s breath was sharp. “No court in London will entertain your ridiculous request that we repay the proceeds of the Blue John mine dating back over twenty years, especially since you can’t prove the mine even belongs to the Earl of Morwick.” Lydia gave a flutter of her beringed hands. “All you have is an old survey which is likely a forgery.”

  “If you feel that way, Lydia, one wonders why you would have bothered to murder my husband all those years ago.”

  Lydia’s left eye twitched. “Hearsay,” she hissed, the brandy fumes floating out in a cloud. “You’ve not a shred of proof save a private conversation overheard by some tart your worthless son married.”

  “That tart is now the Countess of Morwick,” Marissa reminded her. “She outranks you.”

  “Sour grapes. She’d say anything to hurt Simon after he had to end their betrothal. What else was Simon to do? Especially after she debased herself with your son. No one will believe her. I can’t wait to drag her reputation through the mud now that I’m in town.”

  “But Simon gave his word.” Marissa blinked, wide-eyed. “I can’t imagine. Your son is so incredibly honorable.” A snarl flitted about her lips. “Like his father.”

  Lydia flinched. “You can do nothing to us. I won’t stand for your nonsense another minute, Marissa. I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish with your little stunt. My husband has been dead for years, and you’ve no proof. The entire case will be thrown out of court.”

  Marissa nodded as if agreeing. “Perhaps. Or maybe,” she moved closer to Lydia, “I’ll drag this dispute out for years. I’ve scores of solicitors who’d like nothing more than to waste my substantial fortune on such things. Whereas you can ill afford a lengthy court battle if the rapid pace at which you are selling off your valuables is any indication. Goodness, next you’ll be prying the Blue John from the fireplaces of Brushbriar.” She shook her head. “You should have told me, Lydia. I would have happily bought up the entire lot.”

  “You—” Lydia’s eyes bulged dangerously again.

  “Have the resources of my very powerful, wealthy family at my back. You always seem to forget I started life as the daughter of a duke,” Marissa said with false disbelief.

  “An infamous one. Your family is reviled in London.”

  “I prefer respected. Feared.” Marissa’s voice hardened. “And with good reason. You’d do well to remember that, Lydia.”

  Lydia faltered slightly, her slender figure wavering as if buffeted by the wind. Spittle formed at the corner of her mouth as the scent of brandy and breath mints filled the air above her. “Is that your game, Marissa? Will you hide behind your nephew and hope to frighten me?”

  Marissa shrugged. “Frighten you? Perish the thought. I’ve better things to do. By the way, how is your daughter’s pursuit of Mr. Kendicott progressing?”

  Lydia paled until she resembled a bowl of day-old, curdled cream.

  “Oh dear.” Marissa made a tutting sound. “Are you feeling well, Lydia? You look as if you could use a glass of brandy. I’m sure you assumed you could sneak a nip into your tea today, perhaps when Lady Higgins turns her back. Or are you planning to disappear for a moment to . . . collect yourself?” She nodded to the stylish reticule hanging from Lydia’s wrist. “Is there a tiny flask in there? You should be very discreet.” Marissa lowered her voice. “I understand Sir Richard is a teetotaler.”

  “How dare you,” Lydia snarled.

  “I’m only concerned as your former neighbor. Miss Higgins possesses an enormous dowry which you are in dire need of. Dear Lord, I hope nothing happens to scare her away as it did Kendicott.” A small laugh bubbled up. “I mean by something other
than you, Lydia. I bid you good day, Lady Pendleton. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  Lydia’s eyes narrowed to slits, glittering with unrestrained malice. Had she a gun handy and a cave nearby, there wasn’t a doubt Marissa would be treated to the same fate Reggie had suffered.

  But as Lydia was doubtless finding out, Marissa was possessed of the same malice and rage.

  Lydia and her children deserved to live the remainder of their days in utter ruin. She felt not the least bit of guilt in destroying all of them.

  Miss Higgins was overly absorbed in plucking a string from her skirts as Lady Higgins and Arabella conversed. The pitiable girl looked as if she wished to be anywhere but here. And who could blame her? Spending the day with Lydia had to be excruciating. Did Miss Higgins bear Simon any affection? Or was she only doing her duty?

  Marissa thought the latter. Simon was a cold fish, much like his mother.

  Arabella, finally running out of things to say about the opera, led Lady Higgins back to where Marissa and Lydia stood, Lady Higgins hanging on her niece’s every word.

  “Lady Higgins, I fear I’ve taken you away from your guest. What poor manners I have. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Arabella took Lady Higgins’s hand. “But I’ve so enjoyed our conversation. You and your daughter must come for tea soon. We’ve so much more to discuss. And to find out our husbands are already well acquainted.” Arabella shook her head. “Malden is so forgetful. He never mentioned such a thing to me.”

  Lady Higgins twittered, obviously overjoyed to be invited to call on Arabella. “It would be our great pleasure, Lady Malden. Wouldn’t it, Clare?”

  Miss Higgins nodded. “Delightful, Lady Malden.” Her glance flitted up to regard Arabella as if she were some exotic creature.

  The brackets around Lydia’s mouth deepened further; she likely couldn’t bear the thought of Arabella pouring tea with the girl she’d selected for her precious son. Marissa could practically smell the fear rolling off Lydia in waves. One of Lydia’s gloved hands disappeared inside the reticule dangling from her wrist.