Practically Wicked

by Alissa Johnson

  “Have you sent for the physician?” She spun on Lucien. “He should have a physician.”

  “I don’t need a physician. It’s a spot of bruising, that’s all.” He took her hand gently. “I’m fine, Anna.”

  “You are not fine,” she snapped, and he wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the sudden anger or the tremor he heard in her voice. “You’re a terrific mess and I’ll know the reason why. Right now.”

  Well, this was…rather nice, Max decided. Anna was well and truly worked up over the state of his well-being, or lack thereof. She was fussing.

  Lucien looked from Max, to Anna and back again, then rose from his chair. “You’re obviously in concerned hands. I’ll just see what’s delayed the physician then, shall I?”

  Max would have rolled his eyes if he could have been sure Anna wouldn’t see it. The physician hadn’t arrived because the physician hadn’t been sent for. If nothing was broken, there wasn’t a point.

  “Did you fall from your horse?” Anna demanded. “Is that it?”

  “First off, love…only drunkards fall from their mounts. Everyone else is thrown. And no, I wasn’t thrown.” He was knocked off, most likely by a large stick or rock, but he felt strongly she didn’t need to know that sort of detail. “I met with a pair of unsavory men on the road from the village.”

  “Someone did all this to you?” she whispered, aghast.

  “A pair of someones,” he corrected. “It took two of them. And I assure you, they’re worse the wear for it.” He flexed his right hand into a fist and took grim pleasure in the ache and sting of his swollen knuckles. “I broke at least one nose today.”

  “Broke a…?” She glared at him, clearly appalled. “They might well have killed you. You ought to have given them what they were after and been done with it. Was it worth protecting a few coins and a cravat pin? What if they’d had a gun, you fool? Or a knife?”

  “They had a knife.”

  Too late, he realized he shouldn’t have mentioned the knife. Anna’s gray eyes went from wide to saucer-sized; her skin paled.

  “You shouldn’t have fought them. You should have given them your purse. You—”

  “They didn’t want it.”

  “Your horse then, or whatever it was they were after.”

  “You don’t understand, love.” He took her hands, gently brought them to his lap to hold. “They weren’t highwaymen, Anna. They weren’t after my coin or my horse. They were after me.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “It was Ox and Jones.”

  “Ox and…My mother’s men?” She pulled her hands away slowly. “My mother did this?”

  Max had never wanted to lie so desperately in his life.

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Oh, no. I knew she could be…But I never thought…I never…” She shook her head, her eyes shining. “This is all my fault. I should not have—”

  “Stop it. I’ll not hear it.” The morning was rotten enough without having to witness Anna flog herself for her mother’s crimes. “There is nothing you have done that you should not have done. This is Mrs. Wrayburn’s doing.”

  “But—”

  “Only her doing.”

  “And her men.”

  “I…” If he could have done so without hurting himself, he might have laughed a little “Yes, fine, and her men. You always have to be right about something, don’t you?”

  “I don’t like to think I was wasting our time in arguing.”

  “My practical Anna,” he murmured. He reached up to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, ignoring the throb and sting of his knuckles.

  When he would have dropped his hand, she caught it by the wrist and held it against her cheek. “Why would she have done this?”

  Max chose his words carefully. “Because she imagined she could get away with it.”

  She’d done it as revenge, and it had been directed at both of them. Mrs. Wrayburn may not have been close with her daughter, but she knew Anna well enough to know she’d feel some level of responsibility for what happened.

  Provided, of course, that what happened could be traced back to Anna’s mother, which was fairly easily accomplished when one dispatched a pair of idiots like Ox and Jones.

  No, Mrs. Wrayburn wasn’t stupid. Mad and desperate, however, remained on the table.

  “I think,” he said, “that it would be futile to look for the rationale behind an irrational act, don’t you?”

  “I suppose,” Anna murmured, clearly, and not surprisingly, unconvinced. She brought their joined hands down to her lap. “What will you do, now? Will you bring charges against her?”

  “I will if you like, but I’d just as soon avoid a lengthy, public trial.” And any criminal proceedings involving not only a viscount and the infamous Mrs. Wrayburn, but also Mrs. Wrayburn’s illegitimate daughter, the Marquess of Engsly’s new sister would be wildly sensationalized and on the tongues of every member of the demimonde and beau monde alike.

  Max could live with the bother of it all, but it would be a considerable inconvenience for the Haverstons and, more importantly, a living nightmare for Anna. “How do you feel about exile to a distant land?”

  Anna’s gaze settled on his battered face. “She should go to prison.”

  His heart twisted at the words. No one should be forced to wish such a fate on her own mother. And he’d be damned before Anna went from being the daughter of the Mrs. Wrayburn to the daughter of that Mrs. Wrayburn—the mad lady in prison. All of which was probably neither here nor there. “The truth is, if she’s not left the country already, she will once she hears I was able to identify Ox.”

  “We can’t punish her at all?” Anna demanded, outraged. “She does this to you and—”

  “She’ll pay a price for it,” he promised. “Either she’ll be forced to spend the remainder of her life quietly hiding in some obscure corner of the continent—”

  “Lord, would she hate that.”

  “Exactly. Or, and I believe this the more likely outcome, she’ll reestablish herself in Paris or Rome or some other fine city, with the expectation we’d not bother chasing her across the channel.”

  “I’ll bother.”

  He could see from her face that she would certainly try, and damned if he wasn’t touched, and just a little amused, by the sentiment. Not every man could claim his own knight-errant. “Thank you, love. I believe I’ll join you in that quest. Together we can banish her to somewhere less accommodating.”

  “Can it be somewhere cold? She does so hate the cold. Greenland, perhaps. Or Newfoundland.”

  “Kabelvåg, Norway.”

  She blinked, twice. “That is…very specific.”

  “It’s a lovely fishing village where I’ve some investments, and a gentleman overseeing those investments who can be persuaded to keep an eye on Mrs. Wrayburn after her arrival.”

  “Norway it is then.” She nodded once, then once again, as if trying to convince herself of something. “Tell me about these investments of yours while we wait for the physician.”

  “As to that…”

  “Oh, for…” Her shoulders slumped and she gave him an annoyed and slightly patronizing look. “You didn’t send for the physician, did you?”

  “It’s just a few cuts and bruises. I don’t require—” He broke off when she stood up abruptly and stalked over to yank on the bellpull. “What are you doing? Stop that.”

  She yanked the pull again. “You made me see the physician because I’d stood in a bit of water. You can damn well suffer his company because of this.”

  Although Mrs. Webster and all the Haverstons offered to take on Max’s care until the physician arrived, Anna refused to leave Max’s side.

  In truth, there was little she could do for him, even with all the help provided. The best she could manage was to bully him into lying back on the settee and letting her place a cool, damp cloth over his swollen eyes.

  She studied his battered face, willing away the injuries. She
wanted to brush her fingers along every inch of the marred and broken skin and watch it heal beneath her touch. How she wished he would allow her to apologize. She may not have sent the men who’d attacked him, but she was the reason they had come.

  Life had taken on such a lovely routine, she’d almost forgotten that Caldwell wasn’t home, that her last name wasn’t Haverston. She’d begun to think of her past less and her future more, and in doing so, she’d stopped giving adequate attention to the consequences of her actions, past and present.

  She should have known there would be a cost for leaving Anover House, and an even higher one for defying her mother by not returning.

  Today was a reminder that there were almost always hidden costs to the choices one made. It might be weeks, months, or even years before they came to light, but eventually they would. And there were other consequences that weren’t hidden, exactly, but all too easy to brush aside, or ignore all together, until it was too late.

  The Haverstons would likely have children of their own soon. What would her presence in their lives mean for their future? The acknowledgment of an illegitimate aunt or uncle wasn’t so rare an occurrence, but an illegitimate aunt who happened to be the daughter of a famous courtesan who had mysteriously disappeared from the country at the very height of her popularity and directly after her connection to the Marquess of Engsly was discovered…that was bound to be mentioned.

  And what if Madame took it into her head to cause more trouble before she could be found? What if she was angry enough, or mad enough, to target Lilly and Winnefred? What if she blamed…

  “Oh, my Lord! Mrs. Culpepper!”

  Max tore the cloth off his eyes. “What?”

  “What if she sent someone after Mrs. Culpepper? She knows we left together. She knows—”

  He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Does she know where Mrs. Culpepper has gone?”

  “I don’t know.” Anna wasn’t sure her mother was even aware that Mrs. Culpepper had a sister. “She could find out, surely.”

  “Maggie,” he called out to one of the maids. “Fetch His Lordship, if you please.” His voice was calm and steady, but there was an underlying thread of steal. “I highly doubt your mother sent out more than one band of ruffians, but we’ll send someone out to check on your Mrs. Culpepper, just to be safe.”

  Chapter 28

  It took a full two days to receive word back from Mrs. Culpepper.

  Anna read the letter from her friend with relief at first, then with interest and then, as she reached the end of the pages, a heavy but determined heart.

  Mrs. Culpepper was happy to report that both she and her sister were whole and hale and had neither seen nor heard from Mrs. Wrayburn. As for Anna’s other inquiry…yes, there was a cottage available for purchase in the area that would be suitable for her needs.

  Mrs. Culpepper then went on to strongly encourage Anna to think long and hard about what her needs might be before committing to anything.

  Anna, however, had already thought long and hard, and had made up her mind. All that was left now was to tell Max she was leaving Caldwell Manor.

  The physician had promised a full recovery, as nothing vital had been damaged, and already there were signs Max’s wounds were beginning to heal. The swelling about his face had decreased dramatically, and he was able to move about the house without grimacing, or having to hide his grimacing, as Anna expected to be the case.

  Still, it pained her to see his myriad cuts and bruises, knowing she was at least in part responsible for them, and as she shared a game of chess with him in the library that evening, she found it easier to stare at the board than to look at him.

  “You are very quiet again tonight,” Max commented. He’d made similar observations over the course of the last two days. Anna had put him off with vague excuses of being tired and assurances that she felt fine.

  But now…She glanced at his battered face and away again. Now it was time for the truth. “I’ve been thinking…The time has come for me to leave, I think.”

  “Surrendering so quickly? You’ve a chance yet.” He gestured over the small table. “Use your queen. You always hold on to her too long—”

  “Not the game, Max.”

  Max looked up from the board, took in Anna’s expression, and set down the pawn he’d been holding.

  “Caldwell Manor,” he said, mostly in the hope that she’d correct him.

  “I received a letter from Mrs. Culpepper this morning. There is a cottage available not far from her own new home.”

  Devil take the woman. “She has asked you to come?”

  “No. She was simply reminding me that I have options.”

  “Those options include remaining at Caldwell.”

  “Indefinitely?” She shook her head. “I’ve been a guest in my own home my whole life. I don’t want that—”

  “You’re not a guest here. You’re family. The Haverstons must have made that clear by now. Lucien—”

  “I was family at Anover House as well,” she pressed on. “It’s different, I know, but the fact remains that this isn’t my home. I have very little control over anything here. That’s not to say I don’t like it here. I do. I like it here very much, but…Now, with the London season over, the ton will be headed to their country estates or visiting friends. I understand Lady Engsly very much enjoys being a hostess.”

  “Is that what this is about?” he asked gently. Caldwell Manor would no longer be a refuge from everyone else in the world. “Would it be so awful, attending a ball or dinner party every now and then?”

  “Yes…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to take the chance at being the evening’s entertainment.”

  “There are advantages and benefits to taking that risk. Dancing, laughter, music. We could waltz together, you and I.” He reached for her hand, only to have her pull it away.

  “Max, don’t.”

  Panic began to bite at him, little nibbles he did his best to ignore, or at least shove aside with reasoning. This was merely a conversation, he told himself. She was just expressing her options aloud, that was all. Nothing had really been decided upon yet.

  “All right, you won’t stay at Caldwell indefinitely. But you needn’t choose a solitary life in a cottage either. You have options, as your Mrs. Culpepper pointed out.”

  “It won’t be solitary. I’ll have Mrs. Culpepper to visit, and—”

  “Anna.”

  “We cannot always have what we want,” she said stiffly.

  Max studied her face, the shadows under her eyes, the way she refused to meet his gaze. “You mean this? You truly mean to leave?”

  “Yes.” Her hand came up to pick at the wood at the edge of the table. “I think, perhaps, tomorrow—”

  “Tomorrow?” Panic was immediately eclipsed by anger. He pushed away from the table and rose. “Tomorrow? Just like that? You didn’t think to give me any time, any chance to—”

  “To fight with me over my choice?” She shook her head without looking at him. “There’s no point in our arguing. We knew where this was heading from the very—”

  “No, you knew. You assumed. I asked for your hand. That is where I thought this was heading.” He swore, stalked the short distance to the window while Anna spoke at his back.

  “You know we can’t marry,” she said quietly. “I can’t live amongst the demimonde; you can’t live a quiet life in the country. Our families would face censure. You—”

  He spun around and cut her off. “Our families are insulated by titles, wealth, and power. They will emerge unscathed, I assure you.”

  “Your nieces—”

  “Would be forced to marry men who would show respect to my wife. I am fully comfortable imposing that limitation.”

  “It is not that simple. Young men have limitations set on them by their own families. A perfectly wonderful gentleman may be forbidden by his father to court one of your nieces, because of me.”

&nbs
p; Max brushed that away with an impatient wave. “If the gentleman feels the hand of my niece is not worth the courage it would take to find his own way, then good riddance to him.”

  Anna closed her eyes briefly. “You are oversimplifying things.”

  “No, you are making things worse than they are, than they have any need to be. You spend so much time worrying over what society might make of you, you don’t stop to consider the opinions and desires of those who matter.”

  “That is not true,” she snapped. She lifted her gaze to meet his, finally, and rose from her seat. “I am considering them. For pity’s sake, look at you. Look at what my own mother did to you.”

  Max took a few hesitant steps forward as anger and heartache battled for supremacy. Never before had he wanted to shout at, shake, and soothe someone, all at the same time. “You are not to blame for your mother’s actions, Anna. You must know that—”

  “I do know it. Just as I know that it would be irresponsible of me to ignore the reminder that there are all sorts of consequences for my own actions. Some of them are only possibilities, yes. And perhaps, where our families are concerned, they seem greater to me than they truly are.” She held up a hand before he could seize on that small capitulation and run with it. “But some of them are real, some of them would be inescapable, and some of them I know well enough to be certain I have not exaggerated them in my mind. I am a source of gossip and scandal. I would be a target for derision in London. I always have been.”

  “If the talk bothers you so terribly, we’ll stay clear of it. I am not asking you to return to Anover House as the Ice Maiden. I am asking you to share a home with me as a viscountess.” How could she not see the difference in what her mother had forced on her and what he was offering? “Invite your own guests, make your own friends, attend the balls you want to attend. Start your own bloody rumors, if you like—”

  “There will still be whispering and—”

  “Devil take the whispers,” he broke in. He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated and hurt beyond measure. “God, you give up so easily—”

  “I don’t. I am trying to make the inevitable easier for us, but that—”