Practically Wicked

by Alissa Johnson

  Anna watched him walk away and felt marginally better when he disappeared inside the house.

  Lord Engsly cleared his throat again. “Lord Dane has been a true friend to the Haverstons for many years. His presence here doesn’t make you uneasy, I hope? I’d thought—”

  “Not in the least,” Anna lied. Because, really, what else could she possible say? Your dearest friend makes me exceedingly uneasy. Please do remove him from your home for the few hours I am here.

  “Excellent. Excellent. I should like for the two of you to be friends as well.”

  “I’m sure that would be lovely.”

  She was sure there was scarcely a chance in hell of that occurring. But as Lord Dane had clearly not seen fit to inform his dearest friend of their history, she thought it might be best to keep her peace on the matter as well.

  She remained mostly silent while Engsly introduced her to the staff—a formality that confused her—and as she was ushered into the front hall with its soaring ceiling, sweeping twin staircases, and marble balustrades. And she was quiet still as she was led down a wide hall lined with windows that let in broad beams of sunlight to warm the air.

  Engsly was saying something about the front of the manor being an addition made in the last century, and the rear of the manor retaining many of its Elizabethan charms. But all the while, she kept thinking, My brother. This man is my brother.

  And willing herself to feel something other than concern for Mrs. Culpepper, continued unease at the presence of Max Dane, and the desire to be done with Caldwell Manor and on her way as quickly as possible.

  “Here we are,” Engsly announced, gesturing her through an open set of doors. “The family parlor.”

  He’d brought her to the parlor rather than his study? Anna hadn’t expected that, but after a moment’s thought, decided to take it as a promising sign that he viewed her as something more than a distasteful matter of business. Which, incidentally, and less promising, was an indication that he didn’t intend to give her the thousand pounds straight away.

  There would be a discussion.

  “Please,” Engsly encouraged, gesturing toward a settee. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thank you. It is a lovely room.” Anna had the overall impression of sturdy, old-fashioned, but well-kept furniture and muted colors on the walls and carpet, but the details of the room escaped her. She kept her eyes on the marquess as she settled on the edge of a seat.

  He, in turn, kept his eyes on her as he took up position in a chair across from her.

  A lengthy silence followed.

  “Well,” she tried, and brushed a hand down her skirt.

  “Well,” he countered.

  The eyeing continued until a maid, whose name had already escaped Anna, brought refreshments into the room.

  Anna snatched up a biscuit the moment they were within reach and took a small bite. “These are quite good.”

  They could have tasted of mud and she’d not have cared. She was just grateful to have something to discuss.

  “I’m glad they please you,” Lord Engsly said, taking one for himself as the maid disappeared again. “They’re orange and spice. One of Gideon’s favorites. He’ll be arriving soon. And my wife. They’re traveling from Scotland.”

  “It will be a pleasure to make their acquaintance,” she replied and hoped it was true.

  At least she’d not been expected to greet the family all at once. Perhaps the experience would be less traumatic if her exposure to the Haverstons was done slowly, bit by bit.

  Or perhaps it would be like amputating a limb with a butter knife.

  “Acquaintance,” Lucien repeated, and a small furrow worked into his brow. “Yes. I had hoped you might meet with my brother’s wife as well. Unfortunately, Winnefred also finds long trips to be unpleasant. I am told she is learning to ride, which should make travel easier for her.”

  “That seems wise.” She fiddled with the biscuit in her hand until it began to crumble, forcing her to stop. “Well,” she said and would have kicked her own shin if she’d been able. Surely they’d moved beyond “well” by now.

  Engsly cleared his throat. “Yes…Well.”

  Or perhaps not.

  She put the remainder of the biscuit in her mouth, smiled politely around the food, and chewed slowly. If she couldn’t say something intelligent, she might as well have an excuse for it.

  Engsly reached for another himself but paused with his hand halfway to the plate. Suddenly, he swore under his breath, rose from his seat, and stalked to the fireplace and back whilst vigorously scrubbing his hand over his head.

  The last went a long ways toward explaining the peculiar state of his hair. The rest made Anna distinctly nervous.

  He didn’t strike her as friendly and welcoming now. He struck her as agitated.

  “Allow me to be frank, Miss Rees.” He stopped before her and blew out a short breath while her stomach tightened into a knot. “I haven’t the foggiest notion of how to go about this…this…” He waved his hand about in an indecipherable manner. “This business of having a sister. I’ve no experience with sisters. I feel overwhelmed. And a little idiotic. I am not generally so inept at making conversation.”

  To her surprise, she felt a small smile form on her lips. What a relief it was to acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation rather than making things worse by trying to dance about it; and what a relief to know he wasn’t about to inform her that he’d booked her passage on a ship to the Americas.

  “I’ve no experiences with brothers,” she offered. “I’ve no siblings of any sort.”

  She also felt like an idiot, but she was willing to take commiseration only so far.

  Evidently, it was far enough for Engsly. His shoulders visibly relaxed and the hint of a smile touched his lips. “I quite like my sister-in-law, mind you.”

  “But it is not the same,” she guessed and reached for a second biscuit. Perhaps this one would taste like oranges and spice, after all.

  “No, it is not.” He resumed his seat and took his second biscuit. “I like to think, however, that we will become every bit as comfortable with each other over time. A few weeks here and—”

  “A few weeks?” Anna nearly choked on her food. “You wish for me to stay a few weeks?”

  He couldn’t be serious.

  “Or longer, if it suits you.” He gave her a bemused look. “How else are we to come to know each other?”

  Why on earth would you wish to know me?

  “I…had not anticipated a protracted visit. I thought…a day or two”—or an hour or two—“and Mrs. Culpepper and I would be on our way. She has a sister in the north.” She stopped awkwardly, and with the realization that she’d not answered his question. “I had hoped, of course, that we might develop an ongoing correspondence.”

  She hadn’t really. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope or expect anything beyond a few hours of his time and the thousand pounds.

  He digested that quietly before responding. “Miss Rees, it will be several days yet before Gideon arrives. You must stay here until then, at the very least. He is most eager to meet you.”

  “Several days?” She swallowed hard. She hadn’t translated “soon” into “days.”

  “You’ll be perfectly comfortable here, I assure you.”

  The devil she would. There was a very long list of reasons why she would most certainly not be comfortable staying on. And at the top of that list, written in bold and underlined lettering, was the name Lord Maximilian Dane. Good God, she had to find a way out of this.

  “I am honored by the request, my lord, and Codridgeton is a lovely village, I’m sure, but—”

  “Codridgeton? No, you’ll stay here.”

  “Here? At Caldwell Manor?” She realized she was parroting almost everything he said, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. Stay a few weeks? At Caldwell Manor? Was the man unhinged? “There is a perfectly serviceable inn in the village. The Bear’s Rest, I believe? I saw—�
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  She cut off with the realization that they had jumped from whether or not she would be staying, to where she would be staying. How on earth had that happened?

  “A fine establishment,” he allowed, “but I’d just as soon not be obliged to saddle a horse every time we wished to have a word. I would prefer for you to stay at Caldwell.”

  Anna was beginning to wonder if she might prefer a voyage to the Americas. “Do you think that wise, my lord?”

  His lips curved in a smile she could only describe as a little bit smug. “I’m not in the habit of offering suggestions I think unwise.”

  She doubted he was in the habit of offering suggestions at all. He was a marquess. He commanded. She wished he would command himself into using a little common sense. Perhaps he simply wasn’t comfortable acknowledging the obvious, but it needed to be done.

  “I shouldn’t be in your home at all. You know what I am,” she said quietly. “What my mother is.”

  It was inconceivable that he should want her under his roof for a single night, let alone weeks.

  “Yes,” he replied evenly. “You are my sister. Your mother is the mother of my sister.”

  “There will be talk.” There would be endless talk, even in a village distanced from London, like Codridgeton. Just the thought of it made her skin crawl.

  It appeared not to bother the marquess one whit. He lifted a slightly amused and highly arrogant brow. “Do you know who I am, Miss Rees?”

  Baffled, she shook her head and made her best guess. “My half brother?”

  “I am the sixth Marquess of Engsly. Our father was the fifth Marquess of Engsly.” He leaned forward a little and tried another reassuring smile. “Let them talk.”

  She wished she could smile back. The intended sentiment was appreciated. He meant to acknowledge her in a way their father had not, and he could well afford any consequences. The talk of neighbors would not bring down the house of a marquess.

  What Engsly seemed not to understand was that she was not a marquess, or a marchioness. She wasn’t even a Haverston. Unlike the legitimate members of the family, she was vulnerable to the censure and disdain.

  At worse, he would be branded a naïve fool.

  At best, she’d be branded a grasping interloper.

  Unfortunately, those appeared to be her only options. Returning to Anover House was out of the question and going anywhere else required more than the half pound she had left in her reticule. Mrs. Culpepper’s sister had not agreed to take in a pauper, and Anna refused to become a financial burden on Mrs. Culpepper.

  She needed the thousand pounds. And unless she suddenly found the temerity to demand he hand over those pounds this very instant, grasping interloper it would have to be.

  She pasted on a pleasant smile. “I shall direct the driver to unload our trunks.”

  His smile was likewise amiable and, she very much hoped, far more sincere.

  “It’s already been taken care of.”

  Of course it had been. He was, as he had so aptly pointed out, the sixth Marquess of Engsly. There’d never really been any question of her staying.

  The remainder of Anna’s meeting with the marquess was kept mercifully brief. Engsly gave her an abbreviated tour of the manor, pointing out the doors to the dining room, the music room, and his study. The library, billiards room, and orangery were down another hall and she was encouraged to explore all of the house and grounds to her heart’s delight.

  “I had thought to share a dinner downstairs,” he told her as a pair of maids followed them to her chambers, “but with your companion out of sorts, perhaps the two of you would prefer I sent your meals upstairs?”

  He really was a thoughtful sort, Anna mused. Pity he’d not thought to let her leave, or stay at the inn or, at a minimum, evict the other houseguest before her visit. “I would be most grateful, thank you.”

  “Here we are then,” he chimed, as they stopped outside her chambers. “Your Mrs. Culpepper is across the hall, just there.” He pointed to the exact door, which was unnecessary, really, as a steady and familiar stream of snores could be heard emanating from the other side of the door.

  She looked into her own chambers. It seemed a fine room, complete with its own little balcony. Not so large or opulent as some of the guest chambers in Anover House, but that could only be counted as a mark in its favor, as her mother’s taste in fashion had always been more fashionable than tasteful. The bed appeared to be in the more ornate style that was popular more than fifty years past. The walnut armoire and chest of drawers predated the bed by another twenty years. The wood of each gleamed with the polishing of decades. These were items of quality that were meant to be used and enjoyed, not present merely to impress.

  Mrs. Culpepper would no doubt pronounce the room “well appointed.” Anna thought comfortable a better description.

  “It’s a lovely room,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure to have you here,” he said softly. “If there is anything else you need or want, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  She wanted to ask for her blasted thousand pounds, if it’s not too much trouble, but, in the end, she put on her pleasant smile once again, thanked him for his hospitality, and wished him, and the hovering maids, good evening.

  Then she stepped into the room and closed the door.

  For a moment, Anna stood where she was, staring at the back of the door in something of a daze. Eventually, she forced herself to walk to the bed, where she took a seat on the mattress and began the arduous task of sorting through the tangled web of her thoughts.

  Problems were much easier to address when approached methodically. Emotions were simpler to define and manage when one didn’t attempt to define and manage all of them at once. Particularly on a day like today.

  In just under eleven hours, she’d left London, and possibly her own mother, for good. She’d met a brother she’d not known existed a month ago. Somehow, she’d been coerced into staying at Caldwell Manor for at least several days (which was going to be interesting to explain to Mrs. Culpepper, who was no doubt surprised to have had her trunk delivered to her room) so that she could meet the other brother she’d not known existed a month ago. And to top it all off, she was, for the first time in four years, under the same roof as Max Dane.

  Every one of those developments was monumental, any one of them would have made the day unforgettable, but it was the last that sent her heart racing the fastest.

  Damn the man, why could he not have grown thicker round the middle and developed a bald pate?

  Why did he have to be so handsome still, so appealing? She couldn’t possibly face him, let alone carry on a polite conversation, without remembering all the reasons she’d been taken with him four years ago. She’d certainly not be able to look at him without thinking of their kiss. How could she, when she’d been so damnably careful to capture every detail of it as it happened? Every taste and sound and dizzying sensation had been permanently etched in her mind.

  As were a thousand other particulars of that night—the way he’d made her laugh, made her feel clever and interesting, lovely and desirable. And hopeful. She’d never been so hopeful as she had for those few weeks after they’d met.

  Though she’d not liked admitting it, even to herself, the truth was that she’d never been so heartbroken as the day she’d realized and accepted that Max Dane wasn’t coming back.

  The blighter.

  He ought to have at least written a letter explaining why, instead of leaving her to wonder what she’d done wrong.

  “I didn’t do a damned thing wrong,” she muttered to herself, not so much because she believed it, but because it helped to hear it said aloud.

  “I’m not doing a damned thing wrong now,” she added, because that, too, felt good to hear.

  “I’ll not be doing anything wrong when I take that thousand pounds and leave with Mrs. Culpepper. There is nothing unseemly in…” She trailed off and wrinkled her nose. N
ow she just felt silly.

  But talking to herself had helped settle her nerves. Talking with Mrs. Culpepper would be even better, but it was hours yet before dinner, and it was possible Mrs. Culpepper might sleep straight through to morning, leaving Anna with nothing to do, and no one to do it with, for the remainder of the evening.

  Anna frowned at the door. She wasn’t fully comfortable taking advantage of the invitation to explore, no matter how sincerely offered, but she couldn’t possibly spend the entire night dwelling on her change of circumstances.

  She was in dire need of distraction. Her embroidery tools and the few books she’d taken from Anover House had been packed in Mrs. Culpepper’s trunk, and Anna hadn’t the heart to wake the woman. There was nothing else for it; she’d have to find diversion elsewhere.

  The library, she decided. Surely she could seek out that room without mishap or, more importantly, running into Max Dane. Caldwell Manor was enormous and the hall with the library wasn’t terribly far from where she was now. She could risk it.

  Chapter 6

  She shouldn’t have risked it.

  Anna swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. Almost, she’d made it to the library. In fact, she could see its double doors not twenty feet down the hall…Or, more notably, fifteen feet beyond where Max Dane stood, blocking her path.

  He’d all but materialized before her like a ghost. One moment he’d not been there, then she’d turned her head for just an instant to peek into an open parlor, and when she’d looked back again, there he was, looming like a specter.

  Only one might imagine a specter to be less substantial in appearance.

  Also, they were unlikely to bow and say, “Miss Rees,” in voice that sent pleasant shivers up one’s spine.

  He really did look handsome, Anna thought with a suppressed sigh. And she’d forgotten to so much as glance in the vanity mirror before leaving her chambers again. Her appearance had now gone from sadly road worn to slovenly. Lovely.