Wicked Again (The Wickeds Book 7)

by Kathleen Ayers

  “So I’m given to understand, poor dear.” Marissa managed to sound sincere.

  “At any rate, I confronted Nighter the moment I saw him enter the ballroom this evening, but the brute declined to give me an explanation for his attentions to Miss Higgins. He did promise we would speak later. Tonight.”

  “Adelia, do you have an assignation at Lady Ralston’s ball?”

  “I do.” She gave a half-smile. “Oh, I know I’m being ridiculous. I’ve no future with Nighter. But I’m not ready for things to end yet.” She shrugged and her nipples raised so dramatically Marissa had to restrain herself from pulling up her friend’s bodice.

  “He’s a soldier and used to scouting hostile terrain,” Adelia pointed out. “So he’s found an appropriate meeting place,” she said with a tilt of copper curls. “A quiet corner for him to explain himself to me in due time.” She glanced up at the clock. “I think he’ll appreciate the dress for our . . . discussion.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Marissa assured her.

  Nighter hadn’t deviated from the plan in the least, which didn’t surprise Marissa. He was a soldier, albeit a very tortured one.

  Miss Higgins stood across the room with her parents, Sir Richard and Lady Higgins, eyes firmly fixed on the crowd filling the ballroom. Viscount Pendleton stood just to her left, surrounded by pandering supporters, as he often was. Simon ignored Miss Higgins, barely sparing her a glance while holding court, his handsome features flushed with his own self-importance. It wouldn’t be difficult for Nighter to coax Miss Higgins down one of the darkened hallways to her ruination. The girl would probably sprint into Nighter’s arms.

  Once Miss Higgins was ensconced with Nighter, someone had to walk in on them. And that person needed to be a recognized member of the ton. One who would be outraged, draw attention, and immediately go to Higgins and his wife. Who better than Lady Waterstone, a woman already engaged in a sordid affair with Nighter?

  Miss Higgins’s betrothal to Viscount Pendleton would be dead within the hour.

  “I’ve seen your Lord Haddon,” Adelia said from beside her, drawing Marissa’s attention from her perusal of Miss Higgins and Simon. “That atrocious girl’s sister, another Miss Higgins, is clinging to his arm. Lady Christina Sykes has been glaring at them nearly all evening. It’s the only amusement I’ve had thus far tonight.”

  “Haddon is here?”

  “Yes, everyone is. I was disappointed to see him arrive alone because I thought you two had come to some sort of understanding after his”—she paused dramatically—“abduction of you on Bond Street. Carrying you off in his arms.” Adelia fanned herself. “My goodness, I wish Nighter would do something like that for me.”

  Haddon was here. Somewhere in this seething mass of pomade, talc, and an overuse of perfume, the man she loved was wandering about, waiting for her to ruin his life. What had made him come tonight?

  “What in the world did you do to Haddon to warn him off?” Adelia’s eyes grew concerned. “The way he looked at you—well, I found myself quite jealous, I admit. Especially after we got to know each other when he called on me.”

  Marissa immediately tensed. “Haddon called on you?”

  “Now, don’t be jealous, Marissa. We only had tea. I didn’t give away all of your secrets. Only some of them. He just wished to know your favorite flowers and what type of whisky you liked best.”

  At least now I know how he discovered my age.

  “I didn’t try to seduce him if that’s your fear,” Adelia continued. “He’s in love with you; it’s so plain I can’t believe you tried to pass him off as a dalliance.”

  He’s not a dalliance.

  “We had a disagreement. A rather terrible one.” Her glance landed on a broad pair of shoulders marching through the crowd with military precision, a path which would take him directly behind Miss Higgins. Nighter’s hair shone like a newly minted guinea as his chin dipped just slightly in Miss Higgins’s direction.

  Marissa’s gaze shifted to Miss Higgins, who flushed immediately when Nighter glanced her way. Her parents didn’t notice when she drifted off toward the path Nighter had taken. Simon didn’t either.

  She held her breath, the noise in the ballroom fading as she focused on the disappearing Nighter and Miss Higgins, her gaze drifting over the crowd.

  Don’t do this, my love, Reggie whispered. You won’t be able to live with yourself.

  “I do adore your gown, Marissa. Is that a design of Madame Fontaine’s?”

  Marissa barely heard Adelia. She’d caught sight of Haddon standing near the refreshment table. He’d been watching her, for how long, Marissa didn’t know. He’d certainly seen Nighter. And Miss Higgins. Still, he did not take a step in Marissa’s direction.

  She inhaled sharply.

  He's not going to stop me.

  It wasn’t until that moment Marissa realized how much she’d been counting on Haddon stopping her.

  Adelia placed a hand on Marissa’s arm. “Are you well, darling? You’re so pale.”

  “I’m fine, Adelia. You might want to freshen up a bit before your assignation.” Marissa finally tore her eyes from Haddon’s. “Perhaps a little color for your lips.”

  Adelia winked. “I’ll find you later, darling. And let you know if my discussion with Nighter was productive.”

  Marissa watched the fluttering ivory skirts of her friend disappear as Adelia departed, in search of a mirror, no doubt, for some last-minute preening.

  Her heart thudded loudly, the sound echoing in her ears. She smoothed her skirts, shocked to see her fingers trembling against the silk.

  Oh God.

  “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered under her breath. “Reggie, you’re right.”

  27

  Marissa hurried to the right side of the ballroom, toward the hall Nighter and Miss Higgins had disappeared down. She had to stop this. Immediately. Nodding politely, Marissa started through the choking crush, desperate to get to Nighter before Adelia found him with Miss Higgins. She glanced in the direction of her friend who had been stopped and was now caught up in a discussion with, of all people, Enderly. Adelia was trying to be polite but her skirt was puffed out at one side as she tapped her foot impatiently. Enderly could be terribly long-winded.

  I don’t have much time.

  Marissa took off through the mass of silks and satins. How could she ever have thought this a good idea? Destroying Catherine’s chances of marrying Kendicott was one thing; Simon’s sister was a slut. But hurting a young girl and possibly destroying that girl’s chances of ever making a decent match was quite another. Miss Higgins was innocent of Lydia’s sins.

  A portion of Marissa, the part which had been groomed by her father, screamed she must take her vengeance. It was so bloody close. Miss Higgins was, regrettably, collateral damage.

  I can’t. I just can’t.

  Panicked now, worried she couldn’t stop the series of events she’d set in motion, Marissa quickened her steps. She startled two elderly matrons who were deep in conversation, bumping into one with a mumbled apology. A fan snapped at her in disapproval.

  Marissa ignored them. Lady Venworth was a sour old thing anyway.

  Hurrying down the hall, she was dismayed to feel the toe of her slipper catch in her skirts.

  “Good Lord. What am I paying Felice for?” Her maid was in dire need of a discussion on the maintenance of her employer’s clothing.

  Slowing her pace lest she trip, Marissa sped as quickly as she could down the hall, praying Enderly would bore Adelia for at least a few more minutes. Pausing every few steps before a closed door, Marissa crooked her ear, listening for sounds of ruination.

  I have to stop them.

  The music faded as her journey took her further away from the ballroom. A muted giggle met her ears.

  A low, raspy murmur replied.

  Finally.

  She looked behind her, but the hallway was thankfully deserted. For now. Marissa took a deep breath, assured
of the way forward. Flinging open the door with no warning, she stepped inside to a small, private, well-lit sitting room.

  Nighter was exceedingly thorough.

  Miss Higgins gasped in surprise, jumping back from Nighter as if she’d been seared by a flame. Marissa couldn’t find fault with the girl’s affection for Nighter, misplaced though it was. Few young ladies would be able to refuse the ex-soldier, fewer still would wish to. Even Marissa had to admit, he was rather spectacular looking.

  But Nighter didn’t possess magnificent bone structure nor have eyes like aged pewter. Both of which Marissa was fond of.

  More than fond. Love.

  Miss Higgins, thankfully, blessedly, was fully and completely clothed. Her breasts were in their proper place, tucked safely inside her very modest bodice. No curls had escaped her coiffure. Her lips weren’t even swollen from a clandestine kiss.

  I’m just in time.

  Nighter’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Marissa before one side of his mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “Lady Cupps-Foster. Good evening.”

  “Lady Cupps-Foster,” Miss Higgins repeated in a horrified whisper. Her mouth trembled at Marissa’s pointed stare, uncurling her fingers from Nighter’s lapels with reluctance. She looked up at Nighter. “Ross?”

  Nighter said nothing, but his chin dipped in Marissa’s direction, waiting for her to speak.

  “I saw Lord Pendleton searching the ballroom for you, Miss Higgins,” Marissa said in her most matronly tone.

  Nighter’s lips twitched at Marissa’s lie. They both knew Simon didn’t give a fig where Miss Higgins was. Only her dowry.

  “Lord Pendleton,” Marissa admonished. “Your betrothed, Miss Higgins. Have you forgotten?” She put her hands on her hips and peered at the girl as if scandalized at her behavior.

  Miss Higgins lifted her chin. “I don’t wish to marry Lord Pendleton. I’m going to run off with Ross.” She beamed adoringly at Nighter. “Not that it is any of your affair, Lady Cupps-Foster.”

  Brave little thing. Perhaps there was hope for Miss Higgins yet. Marissa made a mental note to search the girl out when all the dust had settled and befriend her.

  Nighter looked at Marissa then back at Miss Higgins. “Clare, Lady Cupps-Foster is right. I should not have encouraged you to sneak off with me. Think of your reputation.”

  “I don’t give a fig for my reputation,” Miss Higgins declared in a passionate voice, her hand taking Nighter’s.

  “Yes, but I do,” he said gallantly. Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Please.” He leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

  Miss Higgins nodded. “I understand.” She looked up at Nighter with absolute adoration.

  “We would beg your discretion,” Nighter said. “For her sake.”

  He sounded so bloody sincere, except for the icy, empty look in his eyes. How did Miss Higgins not notice? Marissa had the urge to applaud his performance but now was not the time.

  “I would speak to you in private, Captain Nighter.” Marissa pointed at Miss Higgins. “Return to your parents immediately lest I drag you out of here and to them myself.”

  “Please do not.” Miss Higgins let go of Nighter’s fingers, appropriately terrified of Marissa. “I’ll go. Your discretion, Lady Cupps-Foster, would be appreciated. I assure you nothing has occurred.” She gave one final lingering glance at Nighter before gliding out the door.

  Once the sound of the girl’s footsteps had faded, Marissa went to the door and shut it. Not only did she not want Nighter to be discovered with Miss Higgins, she didn’t wish to be found with him either. Adelia would never speak to her again.

  Not to mention Haddon.

  “Your presence here,” Nighter started in a dark, raspy tone, “instead of Adelia, leads me to the assumption you wish to . . . end this affair.”

  “I do,” Marissa said. “Miss Higgins’s reputation is to stay intact. Her marriage to Viscount Pendleton will go forward as planned.”

  A frosty smile met her words. “Clare detests him, you know. Says he’s a cold fish with little warmth.”

  “Yet she found you more appealing?” Marissa hissed before she could think better of it.

  The briefest bit of anger flashed across his beautiful features before the icy, aloof mask fell back into place. “I can be human when it is warranted.”

  “I’ll make note of it should we meet in the future. Your friendship with Miss Higgins is at an end. Do not approach her again. A large sum of money has been deposited in the account you designated. Our brief association, Captain Nighter, is over.”

  The pale blue frost of his eyes lingered over Marissa while she spoke. “It doesn’t have to be, my lady.”

  “Yet, I’m fairly certain.” The coldly furious words came from the doorway. “It does.”

  28

  Nighter and Marissa both turned to face the gentleman now standing at the entrance to the parlor.

  Haddon.

  “What are you doing here?” Marissa whispered as her eyes lovingly traced every inch of him.

  “I thought you eschewed scandal, Marissa. Yet here you are inviting it again. And so soon after the last one.” Haddon stalked into the room. “You’ve been dismissed,” he said pointedly. “Good evening, Captain Nighter.”

  A smirk crossed Nighter’s lips before he bowed to Marissa. “A pleasure, Lady Cupps-Foster, doing business with you. Should you ever have need of me again—”

  “She won’t,” Haddon snarled. “Get out.”

  Nighter inclined his head and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Haddon moved to stand before her. Two tiny spots of pink stood out against his magnificent cheekbones as he struggled to regain control of his emotions.

  She’d never seen him in such a state. Despite the circumstances, Marissa found it rather thrilling.

  “Have you concluded your business with Nighter?” Haddon stalked toward her.

  “What business do you imagine I have with him?”

  “We have a fucking understanding, Marissa,” he growled.

  “Language, my lord. Do we?” She moved to the other side of the room. Haddon was so bloody handsome, especially when he was angry. “An understanding would require you to call upon me, which you have refused to do.”

  The color on his cheekbones deepened. “Have I?”

  “I haven’t seen you in weeks, Haddon. Nor received word from you except some note from your secretary informing me you weren’t in London.”

  “A fortnight. I had business. I cannot always be at your beck and call, Marissa,” he snapped.

  Beck and—“Let us not beat around the bush, Haddon. You have been avoiding me as if I were diseased.” She hated the way her voice broke, the pain of being apart from him bleeding into her words. “And you know very well what I was discussing with Nighter. You know about Pendleton.”

  Why wouldn’t he confront her? Rail at her?

  “Marissa—”

  “You’ll be ruined, Trent. By me. Your quarries gone as well as your daughters’ dowries. All to help Pendleton, a man not worth saving. Why aren’t you trying to stop me?” Her voice had gone up an octave, mad at him for being so bloody obstinate. “I am doing something so terrible that even my son Kelso is appalled. But you? Nothing. Not a word.”

  Haddon turned away from her for a moment, his fingers stretching down his thighs. When he finally faced her, anguish clouded his features. “You want to know why I’m not trying to keep you from what you want. Is that what you’re asking?” The broken words echoed in the room.

  “Yes,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to pull Haddon into her arms. “I do.”

  He paced before her, his lean body so taut she could see the lines of his muscles stretching beneath the fabric of his coat. Stopping abruptly, he glared at her, agony etched across his face. “You, Marissa Tremaine,” his voice resonated with pain, “are the only woman I have ever loved. I’ve wanted nothing in my life as muc
h as you. Ever. If someone had hurt you, what lengths would I go to?”

  “Trent—”

  “There is nothing I would not do for you. Nothing.” His eyes shut for a moment, the dark lashes fanning across his cheeks, before opening them again. “If I must be ruined in order to prove the depth of my love for you, then I humbly agree.”

  Marissa stepped back, wrapping her arms around her waist.

  No. He couldn’t mean that.

  “Miss Higgins will no doubt be better off not married to Pendleton. Christ, anyone would be. I could chase Nighter down right now. Warn Pendleton. But I won’t.” His face was savage. Determined. “If, in ruining Pendleton, you finally find some measure of peace”—his voice thickened with emotion—“so that we may be together and be happy, then do it. Ruin us both.”

  Marissa stared at him, mouth open, unable to speak. Then she promptly burst into tears, which turned into horrible gut-wrenching sobs.

  “Jesus. Marissa, come here.” His arms were around her in an instant, rocking her back and forth, whispering to her it was all right, comforting her as if she were a child. He didn’t mind being impoverished, he assured her. He loved her. All would be well.

  My God, how could I ever have doubted him?

  She sobbed harder, clinging to him and shoving her nose into his coat. Her head flopped to his chest, her tears dampening the fabric of his evening clothes.

  Haddon’s arms didn’t loosen as he gently moved her to the loveseat in the center of the room.

  Marissa wept for what seemed like hours. She cried for Reggie and the life he hadn’t gotten to live. For the years she’d been alone. And Haddon. The man who loved her so unconditionally he was willing to lose everything to have her. She didn’t deserve Haddon or his love, but Marissa would take it and him, for as long as he would stay with her.

  She squeezed him tight, feeling whole for the first time in years. Maybe in forever.