Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1)

by Annabelle Anders

  “I suppose that old snake is going to get the last word after all.” He attempted to keep her calm; panicking would only exacerbate her difficulty breathing.

  The damn ties were knotted so tight that he was having no success at all in loosening the torturous device. Growing more frustrated by the second, Stephen reached into his boot and pulled out a small knife. In less than three seconds, the garment fell away from her body.

  As the material loosened, Cecily took in a few deep breaths.

  “That’s better,” he said. “In and out, in and out.” He rubbed his hand on her chest now, over her breastbone. Her face wasn’t as pinched as it had been when he’d first walked in. “Poor Cecily,” he said softly by her ear.

  She tilted her head and leaned it on the bedpost. “I didn’t know what was wrong. I have never felt this miserable before. And I kept thinking that I needed you. Silly, I realize. I’ve only known you for a few days, but there you have it.” A few tears rolled down the gentle curve of her cheek. “My papa is gone, and I was afraid, and all I wanted was you.”

  With these words, Stephen turned and pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Come now, don’t cry.”

  “I know I’m foolish. You must think me very foolish. I’ve never been such a watering pot as this.”

  Stephen tilted his head down so he could look her in the eyes. Raising one eyebrow, he attempted to lighten her mood a bit. “It’s just my charming company that brings it out in you?”

  She chuckled softly and then buried her face against his chest again. “I imagine so. That and your blinding good looks.” She leaned fully against him now, and he felt her softness all along his body. Memories of being entangled naked with her only hours before began to physically arouse him. God, he was an animal!

  He cursed his traitorous body and gently pushed her away.

  Not wanting to delay her recovery any longer, he helped her onto the bed. “The antidote for an adder bite is horrible tasting, but it ought to reduce your discomfort.”

  She looked up at him and nodded trustingly. She looked so heartbreakingly miserable, curled up with the coverlet pulled up to her chin. Not wanting to leave her, he kissed her briefly on the forehead and then pulled himself away to go in search of Mrs. Taylor.

  As he moved toward the door to leave, Cecily’s maid entered. She glanced at the ruined garments on the floor and shot Stephen a disapproving glare before shooing him out. What had she expected when she’d summoned him to help her mistress? No matter. He needed to get his hands on some clivers.

  He hoped the household kept some stocked but was somewhat doubtful. Adders were a country danger, not something one encountered in the middle of London. He would probably have to send someone to an apothecary.

  As Stephen descended the stairs, he found Marcus waiting in the downstairs foyer wearing a grim expression. “Your housekeeper said she doesn’t keep any clivers on hand, so we’ve already sent Peters after some.”

  “How did you know?” Stephen asked. Marcus had often surprised him in the past with his vast memory of unusual scientific facts and information, but he hadn’t even seen Cecily.

  “Your housekeeper described the countess’ symptoms, along with the swollen hand, and having learned of the incident with the adder, I merely put two and two together…” He shrugged as though his guess had been a natural one.

  Stephen knew he should learn to never be surprised by his friend’s efficiency. “Of course,” he said, “Your aid is greatly appreciated, Marcus.” He suddenly felt helpless. He would have liked to return upstairs to Cecily, but her maid was with her. To hang about inside her chambers wasn’t something he ought to do.

  He oughtn’t to ever have even set foot in them. But he had.

  Impatience gnawed at him. The sooner Cecily could begin taking the clivers, steeped in hot water, the sooner she would begin to feel better. They were said to prevent the venom from getting to the heart. He’d also seen a poultice made of the herb and then placed on the actual bite. Waiting frustrated him, for not much could be done until Peters obtained the medicine.

  She must be feeling like hell.

  Why hadn’t he noticed anything last night? Why hadn’t he made certain that she hadn’t been bitten? The snake must have attacked immediately. If he’d only taken a moment to check her over, he would most likely have recognized the bite right off.

  Oh, he’d checked her over all right. He’d just been too damned caught up in his own needs to have noticed something as unimportant as a snake bite. What the hell was I thinking? As he and Marcus waited in the study, he continued mentally chastising himself for all the things he ought to have done differently by her.

  “I told your housekeeper how to prepare the clivers when Peters returns,” Marcus said nonchalantly before taking a seat by the empty hearth. “Her airway wasn’t swollen, was it?”

  “No,” Stephen responded. “But she’s in pain and deuced uncomfortable. I should have considered the possibility she’d been bitten last night. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” He slumped down in the chair opposite Marcus. Leaning forward, he dug his fists into his forehead and then his temples. Another headache, wonderful.

  “And, knowing you, I imagine you consider you ought to have been able to prevent your cousin’s wife from being bitten by the adder as well. Because, when it comes to your Uncle Leo and Flavion, everything is ultimately your responsibility.” Marcus mocked him in the gentle way that only good friends can get away with. “As long as I’ve known you — hell, since we were both fourteen — you were always helping Flavion so as not to disappoint your uncle. I’d thought you would see things more clearly by now.”

  Stephen didn’t respond for a few seconds. He knew Marcus spoke logically, but Stephen could not change how he felt. He owed his uncle everything. Uncle Leo had treated him as a son, even to the detriment of his marriage and his relationship with his true son. It ought not to have been that way. Uncle Leo ought not to have neglected Flavion on account of his preference for his nephew. Stephen dropped his hands and looked up at Marcus.

  “I didn’t know about Corinne… about the child,” Stephen said. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  Marcus looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed. “I knew you’d probably blame yourself — take responsibility once again. Lord Hartley always worshiped her from afar, and when she needed a husband, he was willing to step up. It isn’t a love match, but I think they are both happy. Corinne’s a wonderful mother, and Hartley dotes on her. I can’t say I’m not glad that Flavion abandoned her. She’d have been miserable married to him.”

  Stephen thought of Cecily. He could not disagree with Marcus’ statement. But he felt badly nonetheless. And Marcus was also right. Had Stephen known about his ex-fiancée’s condition, he most likely would have returned. He would have taken over the responsibility.

  He would have resented the hell out of both Corinne and Flavion. Would he have resented the child?

  An unappealing pattern was becoming apparent to him. Was he the weaker for it? He’d thought it had been honorable to step in and fix Flavion’s problems, but had he harmed him by doing so? He knew Flavion was flawed. But he was like a brother.

  “I’m not helping Flavion now.” Although tempted to confess that he’d made love to Cecily, he could not dishonor her that way. So instead, he said, “I’m tempted by his wife.” More than tempted, by God.

  “I had thought so but wasn’t certain until I saw the look on your face when the maid informed you of the countess’ condition.” Marcus crossed his foot over one knee and leaned back. “There are many men of my acquaintance for whom this would not pose a problem, but knowing you, it’s most likely damned inconvenient.”

  “You could say that,” Stephen said. He met Marcus’ gaze.

  Marcus shrugged. “It’s early yet, but does your cousin have any more of that marvelous whiskey? I don’t know about you, but I’d welcome a drink while we consider your predicament.”r />
  “He does,” Stephen answered, turning to the shelf that held the decanters and glasses. If he remained in England much longer, he was likely going to pickle himself. Pouring one out for his friend, he pondered where to begin. “I instructed Salaam to keep an eye on Flavion as long as Cecily is confined to her chambers, for at least the next couple of days. There are two very irate papas on the lookout for my cousin, Lord Griffin and Colonel Benning.”

  At this information, Marcus nodded approvingly.

  “I have also hired a detective to investigate Flavion’s actions before his marriage. There is something… I cannot put my finger on it, but Miss Cunnington is disproportionately possessive of my cousin, and I wonder… Perhaps Flavion has made her some promises that can only be fulfilled if Lady Kensington is out of the picture. Therefore, I think it wise to have a greater understanding of that situation. And then…”

  “Yes?” Marcus encouraged him.

  “If I can assure myself of both Flavion and Cecily’s safety, as well as the solvency of the Kensington properties, then I can return to managing my own affairs.”

  “Affairs?” Marcus raised his brows.

  Stephen scoffed. “I am expecting some important shipments to come in any day, and one of my ships’ captains has given notice. I’ll need to replace him as well as renegotiate some contracts due to expire. It is not as though I live the life of an idle gentleman, as you well know.”

  “But what of your… attraction to the delectable Lady Kensington?” Marcus would not let up. Though a good friend, he could be relentless when he so desired.

  Stephen placed his fist against his mouth and turned his head to admire the view outside the window. It did not make sense to him, the tumult of feelings he was coming to have for her. It had only been a few days. How had he come to feel as though her presence in his life was so… necessary?

  The situation was impossible.

  Even if Flavion were to divorce her, it would take years. In spite of their lovemaking the previous night, Stephen could not permit himself to have an affair with his cousin’s wife.

  Oh hell and damnation, he already was. But it could not continue. The notion was abhorrent to him. His conscience already warred with him on an hourly basis. He needed to talk with her. He needed to explain to her that he could not continue exploiting this situation for his own gratification. Because, apparently, that was what it had come down to most recently.

  Only last night he had buried himself in her — in her softness. She’d allowed him to intimately explore every inch of her petal-soft skin. The mere thought compelled him to go to her now. Which was ridiculous. She was injured, ill. Shifting uneasily, he dropped his hand and looked back over at his friend — his friend whose eyes were all too knowing.

  “It is impossible,” was all he said. “I have considered a number of scenarios, and in none of them do I feel that it would be appropriate for me to allow my affection for her to rule this situation.”

  Marcus watched him closely. “No scenarios at all?”

  Setting his jaw, he nodded firmly. “None.”

  Marcus took a sip of his drink and then sighed loudly. “Well then, at the risk of adding to your burdens, would it be possible for you to advise me on my own investments?”

  Ah, this was something he was comfortable with. Something he could be sure of. “Most definitely, my friend.”

  As Marcus left to retrieve his portfolio, Stephen hoped that things would become less complicated soon.

  And to think he had considered that his return to England would be a holiday of sorts…

  THE DISCOMFORT FROM the venom hadn’t faded as quickly as Cecily had hoped. After experiencing some relief from the medicine and the poultice Stephen had sent up, Cecily slept, but only in small increments and not very satisfactorily. Alternating between achiness, nausea and a fever that came and went, she was acutely uncomfortable for the next couple of days.

  And once she did begin to feel better, she continued to be plagued by a relentless fatigue, which kept her from resuming her normal activities and plans. Sitting in her room, she had far too much time on her hands. Unable to read, because of the nausea, all Cecily could do was ponder her situation — ponder what she had been doing and what she ought to do from now on.

  She’d made love with Stephen and now feared that she might actually be falling in love with him. Stephen was everything that Flavion was not. And Flavion was everything that Stephen was not — most ironically, her husband.

  Might Stephen feel similarly toward her?

  She knew that he was physically attracted to her. He’d shown her… He’d made her feel… special, desirable… And it seemed as though he cared about her. But she could not forget what he’d told her that night in the garden, that he felt it was his responsibility to watch out for and protect Flave’s wife.

  Ah, yes, that gigantic sense of responsibility would rear its ugly head once again.

  Was that what his actions were all about? Was he merely taking care of her for Flave?

  Cecily dismissed that thought.

  He was also an honorable man. He was not a man to consider adultery lightly.

  Was he, even now, feeling a great deal of remorse over making love to her, his cousin’s wife?

  Sighing up at the ceiling, Cecily speculated that this, most likely, was the case. For since she’d taken ill, he’d only visited while her maid was present, and on each of those occasions, he had acted with the utmost of propriety.

  Which was the appropriate thing to do.

  Damn it.

  Cecily rolled over and groaned into her pillow.

  Oh, she wished she’d had a mother to guide her where matters of the heart were concerned. Cecily had never met her mother, who’d died upon her birth, but in her imagination, she conjured up a pretty, understanding, and comforting woman. Someone who could have helped her now.

  Perhaps her mother would have seen through Flavion’s lies and helped guide her toward a more sensible choice. Surely, her mother would have recognized Flavion’s charm and flash for what it was. A mother would not have allowed Cecily’s father to post such an exorbitant dowry, which had only succeeded in attracting the most greedy and desperate of fortune hunters. If only…

  On the other hand, a mother would perhaps not approve of Cecily’s behavior with Stephen. But could a mother help her to understand these feelings she had for him?

  She felt a little forlorn. He’d not shown her any affection since the day she’d fallen ill.

  Oh, fiddlesticks!

  In frustration, she punched the pillow with her good hand.

  Surely he didn’t wish to scrap their plan! To heck with their plan. Why had he made himself so scarce?

  Unable to bear her confinement one moment longer, she kicked the covers off and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She would bathe, dress in one of her prettiest new morning gowns, and have Sally fix her hair.

  She stood up abruptly, swayed for a moment, and then pulled on the bell rope. Although disapproving, her maid drew her bath and then assisted Cecily in dressing.

  It did help, as she felt somewhat more herself afterward. Admiring the gown in her looking glass, she dismissed the maid and reached for her reticule. The swelling on her left hand had diminished mostly, but it had been enough of a hindrance that she’d not written any notes to her friends. Sally could not write, and Cecily did not wish to upset the household by demanding one of the other servants pen her notes for her. She also didn’t wish to share her thoughts with someone whom she was not all that well-acquainted.

  Therefore, she’d had no contact whatsoever with any of her friends since the adder attack. She didn’t even know if they were aware of what had happened!

  If she remembered correctly, Emily’s mother normally hosted an at home on Tuesday afternoons. It was early still and, if Cecily was quick about it, she could arrive just in time to catch up with her friends.

  So, with her reticule in hand, Cecily exited her room f
or the first time in nearly a week. She would ask Mr. Sherman to order the carriage brought about.

  She wondered how Sophia was making out with Lord Harold. And what had Rhoda and Emily been up to these past few days? What must they think had become of her?

  Cecily made her way very slowly down the corridor, a little perplexed with herself that she could tire so easily. Coming upon a bench, which she’d never before considered to be very useful in its placement, Cecily gratefully sat down upon it.

  Only for a moment, she thought, closing her eyes.

  Only for a moment.

  STEPHEN’S WEEK HAD not been nearly as restful as Cecily’s.

  Continuing to prove elusive, Flavion had not only managed to dodge the irate papa’s chasing him, but Stephen as well. Salaam reported that Lord Kensington had made brief appearances at both of his clubs, and once at Tattersalls. Stephen was reassured by this but concerned to hear that his cousin was spending his nights at bawdy houses.

  Both Lord Griffin and Colonel Waters had called at Nottinghouse more than once, professing a desire to meet with Flavion on a field of honor. These visits were growing in persistence and frequency.

  Which was most likely why Flavion had not returned to Nottinghouse.

  Stephen had spent the week taking care of estate business in addition to addressing matters to do with his own company and investments. As he dealt with several problematic issues, he’d realized he would be unable to spend much more time in London. He needed to visit a few of the estates personally, and there were some issues he needed to take care of in Calais as well. His managers could only do so much without him.

  Meanwhile, he’d avoided spending time alone with Cecily. As much as he desired her company, her touch, his conscience berated him more and more as each day passed.

  His visits with Cecily were bittersweet. Watching her smile, hearing her voice, and looking into her eyes only taunted him as the maid looked on disapprovingly.

  He learned a great deal more about her childhood, and he’d shared memories of his own. They’d discussed some politics and how they affected business. She had apparently learned a great deal from her father.