CAD'S WISH

by Cheryl Holt

  “I’ve wondered about it,” Hannah admitted. “Father wasn’t the most moral man, so it’s possible.”

  “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have more siblings, would it?”

  “I guess not, but then, it depends on what type of people might arrive in the future. Jackson is smart, loyal, and kind. We were lucky with him.”

  “Yes, we were.”

  “What was it he told you to ask me?”

  She and Rebecca had been strolling arm in arm, and Rebecca stopped and pulled Hannah around to face her. Without preamble, she said, “Should I sign over my share of Parkhurst to Winston?”

  “No! Absolutely not. Why would you even consider it?”

  “He claims I deliberately scuttled my introduction to Viscount Marston, so he wouldn’t marry me, and I have to give Parkhurst to Winston as punishment.”

  The remark, and the quagmire it presented, left Hannah queasy with dismay.

  She and Rebecca didn’t know each other all that well. Hannah was nine years older, and she’d spent most of her childhood at boarding school. She rarely saw Rebecca, and it was obvious they didn’t have much in common. Rebecca daydreamed and wandered the halls, acting in such a silly manner that Hannah often found herself irked to her limit.

  Life was hard and choices difficult. If a woman failed to utilize her intellect, she simply ended up being bossed and abused by everyone.

  Hannah was also constantly disturbed by the rumor that Rebecca wasn’t Sir Edmund’s daughter. To her great shame, she always caught herself furtively studying Rebecca, looking for Winston’s features.

  Had Rebecca ever heard the rumor? Was she aware of the dreadful gossip? If so, she’d never provided the slightest hint.

  “Is Winston correct?” Hannah asked. “Did you deliberately ruin your introduction to the Viscount?”

  Rebecca stared at Hannah forever, then she grinned. “Maybe.”

  “You scamp! Why don’t you like him? He’s rich and handsome. Every girl in the kingdom would like to snag him.”

  “Would you deem me terribly peculiar if I tell you I wouldn’t like to get married? Not to him or anyone.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think you’re peculiar. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m twenty-five and I’m not married either.”

  “Will you ever walk down the aisle?”

  “I can’t fathom it.”

  “I’ve begged Mother not to find me a husband, but she won’t listen. She insists she can force me into it.”

  “She can’t force you, but she can pressure you relentlessly until you give in.”

  “Winston says I’m disobedient and disrespectful. He says they’ve supported me, so I owe them for staying here.” Rebecca paused and frowned. “He shouldn’t threaten me, should he? It doesn’t seem proper for him to treat me like that.”

  Hannah didn’t like to picture herself as having a bad temper, but the reality was that she had a very bad temper. Yet she never thought potent displays of emotion were beneficial. In that, she was too British.

  Her fury bubbled up to a frightening height. But wasn’t that a typical occurrence whenever she visited Parkhurst?

  “First off,” she said, “Parkhurst belongs to you and me. Not to Winston! We have been permitting him to reside here. You don’t owe him anything. Don’t ever forget that fact.”

  “I try not to forget it, but when he harangues at me, it’s impossible to ignore him. He can be scary.”

  “That’s because he’s a tyrant, and he enjoys lording himself over you. It helps him to feel superior, but we don’t have to let him be superior.”

  “It’s easy to be strong when you’re at Parkhurst with me, but when I’m alone, I can never stand up to him. Mother always takes his side, so it’s two against one.”

  “He has an enormous amount of gall to dictate any terms to you.”

  “I understand that in my head, but he’s good at confusing me.”

  Hannah scoffed at that. “Second of all, if you don’t wish to wed, your mother can’t make you. This isn’t the Middle Ages, so if she grows too manipulative, sneak away to London. You can live with me, and I’ll protect you from her. I swear to you that I will.”

  She hadn’t planned to ever extend the offer. She already had too many burdens, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be young and defenseless—and at Winston’s mercy.

  When Winston had started in on Hannah, she’d been older and tougher than Rebecca. She’d had the wherewithal to pick up and flee. What if she hadn’t been able to escape? What if she’d been trapped under Winston’s cruel thumb?

  “Would you talk to Mother for me?” Rebecca asked. “Winston too? They might listen to you.”

  Hannah tamped down a groan. “Yes, I’ll talk to them. Don’t worry about it.”

  “And I should continue to refuse Winston, right? If he orders me to sign over Parkhurst, I shouldn’t.”

  “No, you definitely shouldn’t, and you can’t anyway. Our lawyer, Mr. Thumberton, would have to allow it. I’ll speak to him too, when I’m back in London. He doesn’t trust Winston anymore than I do, and he’d never agree.”

  “What if I gave my half share to you?” Rebecca suddenly asked. “I don’t really want it, and I hate that Sir Edmund arranged such a tangled mess.”

  It was on the tip of Hannah’s tongue to twirl in merry circles and say, Yes, yes, you should sign it over to me immediately!

  But if she took advantage of her gullible sister, how was she any better or more ethical than Winston?

  She swallowed down the excited reply that was anxious to burst out. “We shouldn’t ponder it now. We’ll wait until you’re older. You might feel differently.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I won’t ever feel differently. I’d like you to have it—just so long as you’d always permit me to remain here. I wouldn’t like to ever have to move away.”

  “Yes, of course, you can remain. Forever. You should never fret about that.”

  “Winston claims he can kick me out.”

  “Winston is an ass, and you’re not paying any attention to him, remember?”

  At the comment, Rebecca laughed, which Hannah was delighted to see. They kept on to the house, strolling slowly, enjoying the summer weather. Amelia served a huge Sunday dinner at two o’clock, so it was another awkward meal to be endured, then Hannah would have to have conversations with Winston and Amelia.

  They were never pleasant, and she wasn’t keen for them to begin.

  Finally, they arrived at the manor, and she proceeded to her bedchamber to wash and change her clothes. As she was walking down the hall, a door opened, and Viscount Marston stepped out. The sight of him was so unexpected that she had to blink several times to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Why are you still at Parkhurst?” she asked with quite a bit of exasperation.

  He grinned his devil’s grin. “Obviously, I’ve surprised you.”

  “I could have sworn you were leaving around seven.”

  “I decided to tarry. You’re so entertaining, and my schedule is totally free, so I’m in no hurry to depart. When will you return to town?”

  “Probably tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll head out tomorrow too.”

  “Are you merely being a pest? Or are you trying to annoy me beyond my limit?”

  “It’s both of those.” He nodded down the hall. “You should race to your room and do…whatever. Sunday dinner is about to be served. You shouldn’t be late.”

  He whirled away and continued on. As he reached the stairs, he flashed a smile at her that was so delicious and so full of wicked promise that she was amazed it didn’t knock her over.

  Was he really staying because of her? How could such a bizarre idea have lodged itself in his deranged male brain? Was he thinking she’d be glad he’d delayed?

  Well, maybe she would be. Maybe she liked him more than she should, but she wouldn’t admit it, and she definitely would never let him know.

  *
***

  “Hello, Hannah.” Hunter was amused when she jumped a foot. “I guess I’ve startled you.”

  “You can’t be in here!”

  He shrugged. “It’s mad, isn’t it?”

  “Get out right now.”

  “No.”

  He was slouched in a chair in her sitting room. There was a liquor tray on the table in the corner, complete with three decanters of wine, which he found odd. He’d never have pegged her for a closet drinker.

  He’d downed most of a bottle by himself, but then, he’d been waiting for her for an eternity.

  He pushed himself to his feet and strutted over to the door. Before she realized his intent, he spun the key in the lock. Then he pulled it out and stuck it in his pocket. He’d return it to her when he was finished, and he couldn’t imagine when that might be.

  He might have been outside his body and watching some other idiot behave precisely as he shouldn’t. He was being reckless, pursuing a very dangerous course, but he couldn’t steer himself in a saner direction. He seemed destined to crash into her.

  She bristled with outrage. “Give me that key!”

  “No.”

  “Give it to me! I demand it!”

  “No,” he said more sternly.

  She was a tiny little thing, but she was brimming with fury. She went to the door, twisting the knob, as if she hadn’t just observed him locking it. When she couldn’t open it, she whipped around and absurdly threatened, “If you don’t release me—immediately—I’ll scream. I mean it! I will!”

  He chuckled. “You will not. You’d never risk being caught with me. And might I suggest you keep your voice down? We can’t have a servant saunter by and tattle to your stepmother that you have a man in your bedchamber.”

  She fretted and fumed, then she stomped by him, and she grabbed his wrist and tugged him along behind her. He followed obediently, like a puppet on a string. They left the sitting room for her bedroom, and she shut the door, sealing them in even more.

  In the process, she’d further isolated them. It was exactly where he was delighted to be, but he figured—once she recognized her folly—she’d probably faint.

  “What are you thinking?” Her volume was low, but incensed.

  “I’ve been eager to slip away with you all day, but you deftly avoided my every attempt.”

  “Why wouldn’t I avoid you? There’s no reason we should be alone.”

  “I disagree, and I always get my way.”

  “You’re a bully.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “It’s ludicrous that I should have to explain this concept to you, but I am a virtuous maiden, while you are a cad and a bounder with no reputation that can be mentioned in polite company. You can’t sneak in and presume you’ll be welcome.”

  “I’m already here, so it’s a moot point. Aren’t you glad I dared? Admit it. You’re tickled to have me all to yourself.”

  “I am not tickled! I am livid, embarrassed, and even a tad afraid.”

  He scowled. “Afraid of what?”

  “Of you! You are renowned for your bad habits and wretched morals! You might engage in any nefarious conduct, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to do.”

  “Spoken like the scoundrel you are.”

  “Haven’t you ever wondered if you’ve been a maiden too long? Perhaps it would be fun to misbehave. Why must every minute of your day be spent in absolute drudgery?”

  “My days are not filled with drudgery. They are productive and busy, and you are being more irrational than ever. Would you go? Please? It’s difficult for me to visit Parkhurst, and you’re adding to my distress.”

  “I hate that your relatives are awful to you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are a bubbling cauldron of concern.”

  “If you would give me permission, I could take care of them for you. Especially Winston. I’d love to get my hands on him.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “How would you accomplish it? I’m simply dying to be apprised.”

  “For starters, I’d pound him into the ground for being such a pompous ass. I can’t stand how he talks to you or his wife. I could teach him some lessons about manners. Shall I?”

  “I’m flattered that you’re worried about me, but no, I don’t need you to beat any sense into Winston. Besides, I’m certain it wouldn’t help.”

  “Won’t you let me pummel him? I haven’t delivered a sound thrashing in ages, and Winston Webster deserves one more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Hunter had frittered the hours away, dining and chatting with her family, watching as they bickered and hurled snide comments. There was such an undercurrent of dislike and disrespect in the house that he’d nearly grown dizzy just from witnessing it.

  He’d felt as if he’d been stuck in the audience at a very lengthy theatrical play, and the actors were trapped in the story and couldn’t exit the stage.

  Amelia Webster was mad as a hatter. Rebecca was naïve and slow-witted. Winston was a tyrant and fiend who strutted about as if the property was his. Hannah walked among them like a warrior goddess. Their barbs bounced off her like dull arrows, and she’d ignored them with an astuteness that was spectacular.

  “You can’t cure your boredom by punching Winston,” she said.

  “It would happen quickly. I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

  She spat out a miserable laugh. “I can’t ever decide if you’re being sincere or not.”

  “I’m sincere as an apoplexy. I don’t like your relatives, and I’d like to put them in their place.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but I can deal with them on my own. So if that’s what you came to discuss, you can leave now.”

  She yanked the bedroom door open and gestured into the sitting room, as if he’d obey like a trained puppy. Hadn’t she learned anything about him? He never listened to women, and he wasn’t about to start with her.

  “I have a few other topics on my mind,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  He pulled her hand off the knob and shut the door again. There was no key to lock it, so he slapped a palm on it to block her in. She glared up at him, her green eyes sparking with ire, and she was even prettier when she was furious.

  “I think you’re deranged,” she told him. “What are you hoping to achieve by dawdling with me?”

  “I have no idea. I like women who are biddable and agreeable, but you never exhibit those traits, so I can’t fathom what’s driving me. For once, could you pretend to be sweet and accommodating?”

  She grumbled with frustration. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

  “I’ve always pushed my luck, and it’s always brought me exactly what I crave.”

  He swooped in and kissed her, as he’d been dying to do. While he’d been surrounded by her family, he’d had to stare at her from a distance and conceal his heightened interest. He might have been a drowning man who’d suddenly burst to the surface and was being overwhelmed by too much air.

  Powerful sensations were pelting him, ones that kindled his masculine instincts. Though it was bizarre and terrifying, he was anxious to have her for his very own. She fascinated him in an inexplicable way, so he would simply ride the wave that was cresting with her. He’d figure out the rest of it later on.

  She hadn’t wiggled away, hadn’t scolded him. She joined in enthusiastically, and it was thrilling and wonderful. Despite how she fussed and protested, she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Where would it lead? He believed it should lead somewhere wild and debauched, the trick being to persuade her that she would like to wind up there with him.

  They were standing near her bed, and without asking, he staggered over and dropped her onto the mattress. He followed her down and stretched out atop her. It was a shocking move he shouldn’t have made, but it seemed perfectly natural that he would. Except that it was immediately obvious he’d taken
a step too far. She jerked away and glowered with irritation.

  “It’s bad enough that you blustered into my room,” she said, “but I can’t loaf on my bed with you.”

  “Why not? Who is there to know?”

  “I will know, and I like to assume I have a strong moral compass. I won’t allow you to manipulate me. I refuse to be a party to an indiscretion, for I’m positive you’ve committed thousands of them.”

  “Doesn’t it feel grand though, to be here like this with me? I’m sure you don’t mean to complain about it.”

  “This is how girls get themselves into trouble, and I won’t travel down this road with you.”

  He grinned. “We’ll see what path you’re willing to travel before we’re through.”

  “If I ever chose to ruin myself, it wouldn’t be with a scapegrace like you.”

  “Who else would offer to help you? It’s not as if a vicar or a saint would seduce you. I’m fairly certain cads are the only ones who are sufficiently dissolute.”

  “Don’t be obnoxious.”

  “I’m deadly serious. Everyone agrees that cads are the most fun. Why would you trifle with a boring dolt instead?”

  She looked as if she’d launch into a tirade about his low habits, but he couldn’t listen. He’d spent his life being chastised over his failings, and he didn’t need another lengthy repetition.

  “Hannah…hush.”

  “I can’t have you—”

  “Hush!” He laid a finger on her lips. She obeyed him for once, and it was a stunning development. “I’ll tiptoe out in a bit. I swear.”

  He began kissing her again, and he had to admit that he liked kissing her very much.

  He wasn’t the sort who rushed to the end of a dalliance. She was a maiden, so he was delighted to take the slow, scenic route to his destination. In order to encourage her to misbehavior, he had to guide her to that decision so she’d accept that it was the only possible conclusion.

  He was overcome again by the notion that he should ask her to be his mistress. It would solve so many problems, for him and for her. After they parted, she’d walk away from the experience richer and happier. What female wouldn’t want that?

  Well, she was the type who wouldn’t, but he was eager to convince her that she’d like it. The best course was to wear down her defenses.