Wicked

by Cheryl Holt

  “She’s deranged,” Lucas asserted. “It won’t help to speak with the vicar.”

  “It will,” Stanley countered as he gulped down his brandy. “I’ve had a long week, and I’m for bed. How about you boys? Don’t sit down here fighting.”

  “We won’t,” James agreed, but he suspected they would. Lucas had never been so worked up over any topic.

  “Goodnight then,” Stanley said, and he left.

  Lucas and James listened as his footsteps faded down the hall, then Lucas went over and closed the door.

  “Last chance,” he warned as he seated himself again.

  “Last chance to what?” James asked.

  “To tell me the truth. If I don’t understand what’s occurring, I can’t guard your back. I can’t protect you when it all crashes down.”

  “Nothing will crash down. Stop worrying.”

  Lucas sipped his drink, staring, staring. Finally, he mused, “There’s a curious aspect I’ve never fathomed about Miss Ralston’s betrothal to Stanley.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You and I used to laugh over the rumor that Stanley is impotent.”

  “We did,” James cautiously responded.

  “Yet you don’t seem to find it odd that he’s about to marry so he can sire an heir.”

  “No, I don’t find it odd. He’s very vain, and he views himself as some sort of god. If he’s had difficulty fornicating in the past, he’s probably persuaded himself that he can order his body to perform as required.”

  “You loathe him. You loathe Summerfield. Veronica is nipping at your heels, desperate to draw you into a mess, but wild horses can’t drag you away.”

  “Give me another week or two. I’ll be ready then.”

  “Why aren’t you ready now?”

  “I’m just not.”

  There was a deadly silence, then very quietly, Lucas said, “Has he asked you to seduce her? Is that it? Is he paying you? Is he blackmailing you? What?”

  James’s shoulders sagged, his irritation waning. Lucas was the brother he’d never had, the brother he’d always wanted. He hated to bicker with him and had never been able to lie to him.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” James claimed.

  “What is it then?”

  “I simply like her.”

  “Miss Ralston.”

  “Yes.”

  “As a friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “So…what is your plan? Are you some kind of troubadour from the Middle Ages? Will you pull out your lute and begin composing love ballads? Somehow, I can’t picture you behaving that way.”

  “I have no plan. I’d merely like to spend a bit more time with her.”

  “Well, you don’t get to,” Lucas fumed. “Have you any idea how wrong this is? You’re flirting with her, luring her away from Stanley. Then what? When her emotions are fully engaged, you’ll jump on your horse and ride away? Is that how you intend to treat her?”

  “Why are you concerned about this? It’s none of your affair.”

  Lucas looked perplexed, his fury uncharacteristically peculiar. “I like her very much too, and she’s all alone in the world. She’s been at Stanley’s mercy, and now, she’s at your mercy. I won’t let you two harm her.”

  “Harm her!” James huffed. “Stanley is eager to make her his bride, to make her mistress of Summerfield. Where is the bloody harm in that?”

  Lucas rose to his feet, appearing imperious and irate and very grand. “You and I are leaving in the morning.”

  “Don’t boss me, Lucas. You can’t.”

  “If you don’t agree to accompany me, I’ll speak with Miss Ralston. I’ll tell her you’re about to become betrothed to Veronica, that you’re a renowned cad and you deliberately seduced her while Veronica is on pins and needles, expecting your proposal. I’ll destroy you in her eyes.”

  “Why would you?”

  “It’s bad enough that she has to wed Stanley when this is through. I won’t have her heart broken too, because she assumes your affection is real.”

  “Maybe my affection is real.”

  “So what? Will you steal her away from Stanley? Will you wed her yourself? And then what?”

  “You know I haven’t the desire or money to marry.”

  “But apparently, you have the time to deceive and ruin.” Lucas walked to the door and yanked it open. “In the morning, we’re getting on our horses and riding away. Don’t force me to talk to Miss Ralston. Don’t force me to hurt her.”

  Lucas stormed out, and James muttered, “Asshole.”

  Lucas was correct that they should depart, but James couldn’t imagine it. Yet why would he remain? There was no benefit.

  Lucas wasn’t aware that—at the end of the month—Rose would be gone, that she’d refused to be Stanley’s bride. James couldn’t confide in Lucas, because then he’d have to explain about his original bargain with Stanley, how Rose wouldn’t proceed, how James had backed out.

  It was a secret James would take to the grave. If he owed Stanley anything, he owed him that.

  He downed his drink and wandered out onto the verandah. A cool wind was blowing, the trees in the park swishing their branches, making an eerie sound that set him on edge.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t bear the house or Stanley or Lucas or his choices. Why couldn’t he be happy? Why couldn’t he have what he wanted for a change? If he committed a few sins, who cared? If no one ever learned of them, were they actually sins at all?

  He hurried to the stables, saddled a horse, and galloped down the road.

  * * * *

  Rose impatiently paced her sitting room, waiting for James to arrive. But he hadn’t come, and she wasn’t sure what his absence portended.

  As she’d said goodnight to everyone after supper, he’d whispered that he’d visit her shortly, but he hadn’t.

  She worried that perhaps—with Stanley at home—James had finally recognized that their liaison couldn’t continue. Rose understood too, that it had to end, but she couldn’t stop. With each passing minute, she grew more attached to James.

  Having always viewed herself as being very pragmatic, she couldn’t believe she’d landed in such a horrid predicament. She blamed it on the fact that she’d been so isolated at Miss Peabody’s school. Her social experiences, particularly with men, had been limited, so she hadn’t realized how fast a woman could dig herself into a hole.

  She’d never been in love before, so she wasn’t certain how a person felt when it occurred, but she suspected she was madly, desperately in love with James. Her obsession had risen to a dangerous degree, and she didn’t know how she’d leave Summerfield in a few weeks. Could she go away and never see him again?

  She didn’t think so.

  She went to the window and stared out at the stars, and she made a wish that Amelia and Evangeline would have a better conclusion than Rose had had, that Rose would find a stable conclusion too.

  Life was so unfair. Why couldn’t she marry James? Why couldn’t her dreams come true?

  She’d never asked for special favors, had never reached for more than had been provided. Why couldn’t she—just one blasted time—have what she craved?

  She wondered about James and thought he might be falling in love too. She was exasperated by his insistence that they couldn’t be together. He had no interest in matrimony, and with there being so many veterans searching for jobs in London, he wasn’t optimistic about his prospects, but she was. They were both smart and competent. Why blithely accept that they had to separate?

  A flare of hope ignited, and it burned hotter and hotter.

  Why not? Why not? The words seared her mind.

  Why not speak up? Why not tell him her opinion?

  They could find a way to support themselves; she was convinced of it. She wasn’t some highborn aristocrat, didn’t need a fancy house full of servants and baubles. She simply needed James, the two of them united as husband and wife forever.

  Resolve sw
ept through her. For once she’d grab for what she wanted, and why shouldn’t she? The worst that could happen was that he’d refuse, but after he heard her arguments, she didn’t imagine he would. She was positive she could persuade him to share her vision of the future.

  She paced a bit more, pondered and planned, until a clock chimed the hour of three. A wave of exhaustion crept up on her, and she stumbled to her bed and lie down.

  Very quickly, she fell into a deep slumber, and her dream turned erotic. She was in a field of blue flowers, the sun shining down, and James was stretched out on top of her. He was kissing her and kissing her.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmured.

  She frowned. His voice seemed so real.

  As if drugged, she pulled herself out of her reverie and opened her eyes. He was with her and definitely not a hallucination.

  “James!” she said, smiling.

  “Hello.”

  “When did you arrive?”

  “Ages ago. I was watching you.”

  “How embarrassing. Was I snoring?”

  “Only a little.”

  “Oh, you beast. You were supposed to say absolutely not.”

  “You didn’t snore,” he admitted, his expression warm and affectionate. “I was teasing.”

  “Where have you been? I gave up waiting for you.”

  “I went for a ride.”

  “You were out on the road in the dark?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know. I’d have been worried sick. Why did you go?”

  “I was…quarreling with Lucas.”

  “What about?”

  He stared and stared, then claimed, “It was nothing.”

  Obviously, he was lying.

  “Tell me.”

  “It wasn’t important. He and I have been friends for a long time. We bicker occasionally like an old married couple.”

  She rested a hand on his cheek. “Did your ride calm you?”

  “A bit.”

  He sighed and rolled onto his back, and he seemed very tired, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “Are you still going to London with him?”

  “He’s insisting I should. That’s why we were arguing.”

  “You don’t want to depart?”

  “No, but I probably should.”

  Her pulse raced. This was the spot where she had to speak up or lose her chance.

  “Would you take me with you?” she inquired.

  “To do what?”

  Her cheeks flushed. When she’d been alone and plotting, she’d thought this conversation would be easy, but she’d been wrong. The man tendered the proposal. The woman wasn’t allowed to propose herself. It upset the natural order of the universe.

  “We’ve…grown so close,” she tepidly stated.

  “We have.”

  “I can’t bear to consider our parting.”

  “It’s hard, isn’t it? But it had to come eventually.”

  “Could you really trot off and never see me again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I know what you should choose.”

  “What is that?”

  She felt as if she were on a cliff, that she was running toward it and about to leap off.

  “I think we should travel to London together,” she said. “I think we should marry and live happily ever after.”

  “You do, do you?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared for another lengthy interval, her optimism sinking with each second that ticked by.

  “We could be happy,” she pressed. “I’m certain of it.”

  He chuckled, but dejectedly. “I’d be an awful husband, Rose.”

  “I disagree. I’m positive you’d be wonderful.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve never engaged in an affair before, so you don’t grasp how physical amour can make things more potent. It’s confusing you.”

  “Don’t denigrate my feelings. I’m not some naïve schoolgirl with a crush.”

  She attempted to climb off the mattress, but he slipped an arm across her waist and held her tight so she couldn’t escape.

  “Let me go,” she fumed.

  “No.”

  “I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself for one night. Please leave so I can begin reclaiming my dignity.”

  “I’d love to wed you,” he insisted.

  “Don’t throw me any bones. They’re not necessary. I’m an adult. I took a risk, I completely humiliated myself, and I’d like to be alone.”

  “A match between us would be difficult. I don’t have money or place or family, so I have naught to offer. You could do so much better than me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I could.”

  “Don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry. I’m…resigned. I figured this would be your answer, but I had to try.”

  Her heart was breaking, as if he’d yanked it out of her chest and stomped on it, but it was ridiculous to be sad. She should have known Fate wouldn’t be on her side. It never had been.

  Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was no viable ending for them. But just as she’d given up, he mumbled, “I’ll ponder the situation.”

  “Don’t raise my hopes merely to dash them.”

  She squirmed away and sat on the edge of the mattress, her back to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered from behind her.

  “So am I.” There was an awkward pause, where she could sense him hovering. “Would you go? Please?”

  There was another uncomfortable pause, then he said, “Rose.”

  “What?”

  “Would you look at me?”

  “No. Just go away.”

  He slid to the floor and rounded the bed so he was standing in front of her.

  “If I stay at Summerfield,” he said, “we could have two more weeks together. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

  “Because I want more than that. Despite what you suppose, I believe you’re worth having.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Then I guess we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?”

  “I guess we are.”

  He whipped away and stormed off.

  She didn’t watch him depart, but it was on the tip of her tongue to call to him, to agree that two weeks was fine, that she’d be delighted to settle for so little.

  But she’d settled her entire life, and she was quite weary of it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  James reached the door, prepared to brazenly depart her room directly into the hall. He was too enraged to care if anyone saw him.

  But better sense prevailed.

  He stopped, steadied his breathing, tried to understand why he was so incensed. Rose had boldly asked him to marry, but he didn’t wish to marry, so why be angry?

  He was using Rose—and with despicable motives too. He was lonely and bored and chafing over the same old issues that constantly plagued him at Summerfield. Who was he? What was his past? Where did he belong?

  It had never seemed to be Summerfield, but then, it had always seemed to be Summerfield. Rose had filled a void, had been caught up in his peculiar, disordered world. With his army career being over, he was at loose ends, and she was a pretty, intriguing distraction.

  He had to head to London and start the next phase of his life. He was considering a move to India, an acquaintance having offered him a position there. Such a gigantic undertaking would be expensive. He’d have to buy his share in the venture, then travel across the globe.

  It would mean begging Stanley for money. It would mean relying on Stanley yet again to settle James’s future.

  What James actually needed was to meet and wed an heiress. A rich bride would cure his problems, but it seemed so mercenary. And since he’d only contemplate matrimony to gain a fortune, Rose was the very last person he’d select as a wife. She was poorer than he was.

  He was very attracted to her and worried he might be falling in love, but so wh
at? Marriage was off the table, so how could it matter if he left immediately or in two weeks?

  If he stayed at Summerfield, they’d simply grow more attached, and while James could walk away without a backward glance, Rose couldn’t. She would suffer and mourn their parting, so James shouldn’t behave more contemptibly than he already had.

  Why not leave in the morning?

  He knew what was best, yet he whirled around and marched to the bedchamber. She was still on the bed where she’d been minutes earlier. She stood and turned to face him.

  “I asked you to go,” she said.

  “I can’t.”

  “We’ll hash it out tomorrow. I don’t have the energy to quarrel with you right now.”

  “We’re not quarreling.”

  “Fine. We’re not quarreling, but there’s no reason for you to remain.”

  “There’s every reason.”

  She shook her head. “We want different things in our lives, James. I want to wed. I hadn’t thought I did, but I’ve changed my mind. I could be happy on that path, but it doesn’t appeal to you at all. From the beginning, you’ve been very clear. It’s ridiculous to continue.”

  Oddly, James’s pulse was racing. He was overcome by the burning need to propose. Despite his pitiful fiscal condition, despite his dim view of matrimony, he could barely keep from dropping to his knees and begging her to have him.

  The notion of their separating was suddenly quite terrifying. He couldn’t imagine it, but as quickly as the panic arose, he tamped it down.

  His infatuation was driving him wild with desire, but that’s all it was: inappropriate desire.

  She was like a disease in his blood. He ceaselessly pondered her, yearned to be with her every second, but no viable conclusion could be gleaned from fraternization.

  He had to leave the next day, and the decision swept over him with a cold resolve.

  He was never ruled by emotion. For the moment, he was obsessed with her, but time and distance would cause his fascination to wane. The sooner he departed, the sooner he would recover his sanity.

  But before he left, he would treat them both, would satisfy them both, would give them both a more suitable ending than an abrupt goodbye.

  “We share a blatant physical attraction,” he told her.