Too Wicked to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  “I’ll help you, Miss Reilly.”

  “You will?”

  “Of course. Where would you like to start?”

  “Maybe with my clothes?”

  “A wise choice,” Helen agreed.

  She stood, gauging that Miss Reilly was taller, thinner, and more muscular than she was. “I have some old gowns up in the attic,” Helen said, “but they’ll need some work to make them fit. Let’s see if you’re as proficient with needle and thread as you claim.”

  Robert wandered down the busy street. Captain Westmoreland was still in the modiste’s shop, ordering women’s apparel—of all things!—and Robert was weary of fabric hunting. He missed Patricia, and he yearned to return to Mansfield Abbey, but he was growing convinced that the Captain was about to command him to remain on the ship. Robert might never see her again!

  He was irritated and distracted when he was grabbed from behind and dragged into an alley by two ruffians. They proceeded to steal his wallet and pound him into the ground, while he did nothing but huddle in a ball in the muck and pray he’d survive the attack.

  A wave of ire bubbled up inside him, and if he’d been clutching a pistol—and had had any idea how to use it—he’d have shot them dead.

  Suddenly a shadow loomed over his shoulder as the Captain entered the fray. A few swift punches had the pair scurrying away; then Westmoreland lifted Robert to his feet, and he wasn’t even winded. Robert flushed with shame. He’d been rescued by Westmoreland—again!—and he speculated as to when he’d be free. With their alliance so lopsided, how could they ever be even?

  “I hate them!” Robert murmured, astounded by his vehemence.

  “With valid reason, Mr. Smith.”

  “I’ve been beat up on my entire life. I never defended myself. Not once.”

  “Why not?”

  “I was so much smaller, and I didn’t ever seem to . . . to . . . want anything very badly.”

  “How about now?”

  “I’d like to strangle somebody.”

  “Understandable, but it’s come to my attention that bullies focus in on the weakest folks. Someday—when I’m not around—you’ll be accosted again. What are you prepared to do about it?”

  Fury and bitterness rolled around inside, making him feel reckless and wild.

  “I want Patricia,” he abruptly proclaimed.

  “Well, you can’t have her.”

  “I want her,” he repeated. “Teach me how to fight, how to win.”

  “I’ve known you awhile now, Robert”—he bestowed a sympathetic, humiliating pat on Robert’s shoulder—“and I wish it were otherwise, but I don’t think you have it in you.”

  “Give me a chance to prove I can change.”

  “You’ve had dozens of chances.”

  “Give me one more.”

  “You’re a scholar, Mr. Smith, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We can’t all be warriors.” Though he meant it kindly, it was the cruelest remark he could have uttered. The subject closed, he spun on his heel and marched off.

  Raging, indignant, Robert watched him go. He couldn’t have it end like this! Not when a future with Patricia hung in the balance. He raced over and grabbed Westmoreland’s arm, yanking him to a halt, startling the bigger man with his rough determination.

  “In the past, I never had anything to fight for.”

  “Patricia is worth it; I’ll grant you that.” Westmoreland assessed him, probing for signs of fortitude, of resolve. Ultimately, he ordered, “Come with me.”

  “To where?”

  “There’s a boxing club down the street.”

  “So?”

  “I’m curious to count how many times I can knock you on your ass before you don’t get up again.”

  “I’m going to hit you back.”

  “We’ll see if you can, Mr. Smith. We’ll definitely see.”

  “You’re looking fabulous, Helen.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What an interesting transformation. You’re positively glowing.”

  Rippling with anger, Archie gaped at his sister. Adrian’s spy had notified them that Westmoreland was away, so they’d hurried to the country, with Archie intent on evaluating Helen’s condition. Now that he had, he was more certain than ever that she’d offered herself to the notorious pirate. The two of them had to be plotting to defraud Archie.

  How dare she fornicate with Westmoreland! How dare she deceive her own brother! Her only marketable attribute had been her chastity. If she’d furnished it to Westmoreland, with no compensation directed to Archie for the loss, he’d murder her.

  With his looming financial crisis, he’d been considering an arranged marriage for her to pox-ridden Lord Fester, who was searching for a sweet virgin to warm his disease-riddled bed. Fester would have paid any price to the fellow willing to sacrifice a daughter or a sister.

  Archie had initiated talks, but if Helen’s purity was squandered, Fester wouldn’t want her. No one would. Who would take Westmoreland’s leavings?

  “How long are you planning to visit?” she queried. Apparently, she was eager to shoo him out the door.

  “Why? Are you too busy to entertain guests?”

  “No. I just don’t want you to run into Captain Westmoreland. The two of you would exchange harsh words, and I hate having you quarrel.”

  “When will he return?”

  “I haven’t a clue. He doesn’t generally confide in me.”

  An out-and-out lie, Archie was sure. “Don’t worry, Helen. I’ll vacate my own home by the stroke of three.” He peeked at the clock on the mantle. “You only have to suffer my company for two more hours.”

  She sighed, acting as if his arrival was a heavy burden. “Oh, Archie, don’t let’s argue. I haven’t seen you in weeks. Can’t we have a civil discussion?”

  “About what? I am the one living in squalor and poverty in London, whilst you are managing quite well. Why do you suppose that is, Helen?” He sneered, his malice washing over her. “You haven’t clarified for me why Westmoreland let you stay on. What precisely is the reason?”

  “I’m advising him about the servants and the tenants.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “He’s too, too kind.”

  “He has been.”

  “You wouldn’t be assisting him in a more private fashion, would you?”

  “What do you mean?” She was silent; then the significance of his insult dawned. “Why, you despicable rat!”

  She leapt to her feet, ready to stomp out in a huff, and he rose, too, blocking her exit.

  “If I ever find out, dear sister, that you’ve betrayed me, I’ll make you so sorry.”

  “You were always difficult, Archie, but I’m beginning to believe that you’ve gone completely round the bend.” She shoved him away. “You may rant all you like, but I don’t have to listen.”

  She waltzed out, and his temper spiked.

  Previously, she’d been so docile, easily coerced and led, but suddenly she’d metamorphosed into someone entirely new. If she’d spouted a second head, she couldn’t have seemed any more different. What had happened?

  The answer was obvious: Westmoreland! He had her putting on airs, deeming herself superior simply because she’d spread her legs for the loudmouthed barbarian.

  Well, Archie would show her! Westmoreland wouldn’t be at Mansfield forever. Eventually, he’d grow bored and depart, and Helen would be on her own and unprotected. She’d discover—to her peril—that Archie shouldn’t be crossed.

  He could hurt her in ways that she’d never imagined. Not even in her worst nightmares. Adrian had taught him so many painful games.

  “Stupid cow,” he muttered. Her days of sassing and disrespecting him were over.

  He grinned, envisioning her stripped naked and tied to the bed in the master suite. It would be so exciting to torture her, to taunt and wound and mar. He was counting the hours till Westmoreland left for good. Then . . . then she’d
learn her lesson.

  He went to the sideboard, poured himself a glass of what used to be his best brandy, and drank it down in a single swallow.

  “You’ve done very well. Now get down on your knees.”

  “But . . . but . . . you said if I helped, I wouldn’t have to do it again.”

  “There are strings to every bargain, Peg. Haven’t you figured that out?”

  Adrian stared, intimidating her into compliance. She was so malleable that there wasn’t much thrill in her submission. Her swift acquiescence ruined his fun.

  She hemmed and hawed, so he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll speak with Miss Mansfield. I’ll tell her you stole a ring out of my portmanteau, and you’ll be dismissed. What would become of you then?”

  “She’d never fire me!”

  “Wouldn’t she?” He chuckled. “You have such an elevated opinion of your worth.”

  “You swore . . . that once Captain Westmoreland leaves . . . you’d have me promoted to housekeeper. You promised.”

  “I will,” he lied, “but there’s quite a stretch between now and then, so you have to prove to me that my continued faith in you is warranted. Why would I employ a housekeeper who refuses to obey me?”

  He increased the pressure, and ultimately, she went down. She hadn’t the will to defy him. At the petty triumph he nearly raised an exultant fist in the air.

  He stood, waiting, waiting, as she unbuttoned his trousers, as she pulled his cock free. He did nothing to assist. It was her choice to proceed, and he wanted it to be clear that the shame and debasement were her own fault.

  She opened her mouth the tiniest bit, and he entered to the hilt, forcing her against the wall, banging into her over and over. She tried to push him away, but she had no leverage, and the harder she resisted, the longer he kept on. Finally, he took the plunge, his seed pulsing down her throat as she retched and sputtered.

  He retreated and adjusted his clothes, and as he studied her, he was more disgusted than ever. He detested weak, greedy women, and he thought that someday he might murder her while he fucked her to death. It would be so easy. Who would miss her? Who would care?

  “You’re a disgrace,” he said. “Straighten yourself; then I’ll expect you to be back at your post in five minutes.”

  He was desperate to locate Archie, and he spun away and sauntered out. Archie could be extremely irascible, and Adrian couldn’t have him pestering Helen. Adrian had big plans for Helen, plans that didn’t include Archie, and he couldn’t have the youngster aggravating her to where her annoyance would be directed at both of them.

  With a tug on his stylish coat, he stepped into the hall just as a woman was coming into the house from the verandah. She was very pretty, tall and slender, with a modest but flattering dress.

  Obviously, she wasn’t a servant, and she looked familiar, but in a vague way. He couldn’t remember where he’d seen her before. In a flash, their gazes locked, and it was apparent that she knew him, and she was instantly on guard.

  “What are you doing here, Bennett?” she asked.

  It was a challenge, a warning, and he was amazed that someone so feminine could be so tough. Evidently, the fashionable gown hid many secrets.

  He mustered his charm, which was renowned as a substantial amount, and he offered a dazzling smile, but as he strolled toward her, it had no effect.

  “I apologize,” he started, “but I seem to be at a loss. Have we met?”

  “I suppose that snake, Archie Mansfield, is slithering around, too. How could the pair of you sneak in without my noticing?”

  “My goodness, Miss . . . Miss . . .” He’d given her an opportunity to supply her identity, but she didn’t take it.

  “Don’t think that because the Captain’s away, I’ll permit the two of you to run rampant.”

  So . . . she was a Westmoreland whore, who would tattle about the least indiscretion, and his mind whirred with the prospects for disaster. He couldn’t rouse Westmoreland’s ire or suspicions. The Captain was a vicious, sly foe, who always came out on top. Adrian wouldn’t dare incur his wrath. He’d delay till Westmoreland was gone, then make a move.

  “Really, miss, you’re upset over nothing. Mr. Mansfield and I were merely passing through the neighborhood, and we stopped to chat with his sister. It’s a familial visit and naught more.”

  She twirled away and muttered, “I’d better ensure that Helen’s all right.”

  Without contemplation, he grabbed her elbow, when, to his astonishment, she whipped around, wielding a very small but very lethal knife.

  “You sick pervert,” she grumbled. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll gut you and feed your innards to the chickens in the yard.”

  “I say! There’s no need for violence.”

  “Violence?” She shoved the knife under his chin. “You call this violence? You haven’t messed with me yet, so you don’t know the definition of the word.” She yanked out of his grasp. “You and your depraved friend have ten minutes to vacate the premises. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

  She stomped away, headed toward the front parlor where Helen was conversing with Archie. As Adrian watched her exit, his rage boiled over, filling him with revulsion for everything female.

  Strong women intrigued him. They were the most difficult to crush, the most satisfying to control, and he hoped that when Westmoreland tired of the property, he’d leave the whore behind. Helen would be the main course. The whore would be dessert.

  He grinned and went to find Archie.

  15

  You wanted to see me, Captain?”

  Helen hovered in the hall, but wouldn’t step across the threshold. She was nervous, gawking as if he might bite her.

  “Yes, I wanted to see you. Get your ass in here.”

  “I really can’t speak with you in the master’s suite.” Even though it was nearly midnight and the household asleep, she was acting as if others might be listening. “If we were caught, what would the servants think?”

  “Do I look like I give a shit?”

  “If you insist on being crude, I’m leaving.”

  She turned to depart, and he barked, “Stop right where you are!”

  At his sharp tone, she pulled to a halt. “There. Are you happy?”

  “Yes, I’m very, very happy.”

  “Your bellowing is likely to raise the dead. Lower your voice.”

  “No.”

  She gestured toward the stairs. “Would you care to go down to the library?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  He rose from his chair, advancing on her like a cobra about to strike. He was so irate that he considered putting her over his knee and whaling on her pretty behind till she couldn’t sit down for a week.

  She never heeded a word he said! Never followed orders or behaved as he commanded. She didn’t comprehend that he was lord, king, and omnipotent ruler of his universe. People were eager to do his bidding. He told them to jump and they asked how high?

  They didn’t argue; they didn’t countermand; they didn’t defy. Helen Mansfield was the sole person he’d met in years who didn’t understand this hierarchy and her place in it. Which—currently—was at the bottom.

  “I advised you to attend me at seven.” He’d sat—hour after infuriating hour—not going to fetch her, but waiting to discover how long she’d dawdle.

  “I wasn’t about to come up while the servants were finishing their evening chores. I barely have any respectability remaining. I’m not about to have you shred what’s left.”

  “They’re my servants, not yours, and it doesn’t matter to me if they find your conduct indiscreet.”

  “Oh, I forgot, Mr. High-and-Mighty. They’re yours. Silly me, encouraging their good opinion. I’ve only known most of them my entire life.”

  Why was he being such a prick? He didn’t want to fight with her. He wanted to bed her! Every second he’d been in London, he’d been dreaming about it. He was finally . .
. home—he couldn’t describe Mansfield any other way—and all he could do was bicker. Why couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut?

  She’d had enough of his obnoxious self, and she spun away to stomp off, but he couldn’t let her. He was desperate to wallow in her sweet company. In too short a time, she’d come to mean too much to him, and he couldn’t figure out why he’d allowed an attraction to develop. He was a man of action and decisions, and he never permitted his relationships to interfere with his routine or goals. He consorted with women for one purpose, that being satiation of his enormous sexual drive. He fornicated, then he moved on as rapidly as he was able, but Helen had him yearning to stay, and the realization horrified him.

  He wouldn’t be tied down! Wouldn’t be connected to her or her paltry farm, and though his infatuation was his own fault, he was dying to lash out and blame her.

  Why couldn’t she have been the snippy harridan he’d expected when he first gambled with Archie Mansfield? If she’d been a tad more annoying and a tad less wonderful, everything would have worked out fine!

  He grabbed her and yanked her into the room. At being manhandled she was incensed, but her rage was no match for his greater size and irritation. He slammed the door and locked it; then he whipped around and accused, “Your brother was in my house.”

  “Yes, he was, with his friend Mr. Bennett. For all of three hours.”

  “What did he want?”

  “As far as I could discern, it was to thoroughly insult and aggravate me before traveling on his merry way.”

  “His opportune appearance seems a bit suspicious. Did you invite him the moment my back was turned?”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “Then how did he know I was gone?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess. Perhaps he has spies in the kitchen.” Bored by the spat, she shrugged and glanced around. “Have you any wine? If this interrogation is to continue, I’d like a glass while I endure the tirade.”