Invitation to Ruin (6 page)

But would that be enough? Would passion fill the empty void in her chest?

She shook off her brother’s hand and rubbed her temples.

Christopher was intent on marrying her off. The Earl was the first contender to ever set her heart to wishing for more.

Even if she wed another, there was no certainty that would be a love match, either. Perhaps desire, passion, ardor were all she could hope for. Lord Wickham stirred her in a way no other man ever had.

She tried to imagine what her life would be like as the Countess of Wickham. She would want for nothing. He would likely take care of every one of her needs. A quiver skittered down her back. When he was close, there was only one need she wanted fulfilled.

Her body warmed at the thought of children. She wanted a big family. They’d make beautiful children together. She wanted at least six, four boys and two girls, yet she hoped for many more. Their children would never be lonely. It would not be like her childhood.

“He does not wish to marry me, Christopher. You won’t be able to force a man like Lord Wickham. A duel would mean nothing to him. He’s rumored to have wounded men in several fights. Be careful he does not call your bluff.” She laughed. “You were never one to be the hero.”

Her brother, Christopher, was all but a stranger. Even now he saw her as nothing but a means to his ends. He couldn’t wait to get her married off—as long as he profited.

He moved to right the fallen chair. He set it on the ground and rested his hands on its back. “That is where you are wrong. We have already come to an understanding. The Earl will apply for the special license, and the marriage is to take place in a matter of days.”

“So soon? No wonder you are extra chirpy this morning,” she drawled sarcastically. She turned her back on her brother. She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip on her irrational fears. She swallowed. Her biggest fear was that she would fall in love with the Earl, only to never have her feelings returned. What could be worse?

She knew what could be worse. She might be viewed as a duty or obligation. She could not bear it if he came to despise
her or worse yet, if he grew tired of her and spent all his days with his mistresses.

Yet, what alternative did she have? Once news of last night’s escapades leaked out, no decent man would ever offer for her hand. She looked up at her brother. His smile said it all. She had only two choices, Lord Carthors or Lord Wickham.

It really was no choice.

She smiled at her brother, hiding the anger churning in the pit of her stomach. “It seems you will finally be rid of me. Are you going to wish me joy in my new life?”

Her brother turned and walked to the door. “I’m pleased you’re finally being sensible about this. You should be grateful for such a good match.” He opened the door before adding, “Once you become the Countess of Wickham, I trust you will remember your brother and all he has done for you today.”

She would remember. She would never forget—or forgive.

As he closed the door, a triumphant smirk marring his features, she vowed to make the most of her situation. She wanted a husband who loved her, and she was determined to get one. She would devise a plan of her own. A plan that might never come to fruition, but a plan she would have a lifetime to nurture. If she was forced to marry, she would win the heart of the notorious Lord of Wicked.

   The gong sounded for lunch. Melissa made her way downstairs to the dining room. Head held high, she entered and spied her cousin, Cassandra, wrapped around the neck of Melissa’s betrothed, her body pushed scandalously against his. To Melissa’s horror, Lord Wickham was not pushing her away.

Pain knifed through her. Already his callous treatment of her began. How was she to compete with her cousin?

The tears swimming in Cassandra’s forest-green eyes made them sparkle like the finest emeralds. Her lush tresses were tied loosely with a purple ribbon and hung down her back almost
to her bottom. Anthony was running his hand down the length of it as if stroking a cat.

His cheek was touching hers. The paleness of her skin against his tan made her look so ethereal. She looked like a fairy waif in her white muslin day dress with lavender twirls. He stood towering over her. He was her dark knight, her protector.

They made a striking couple.

Melissa felt sick to her stomach.

She cleared her throat. She had done no wrong. She would not be the one to run away and hide in shame.

“You viper. I could scratch your eyes out …” Cassandra flew at her, but before she could swipe Melissa with her claws, Anthony caught her around the waist, holding her back.

Melissa looked down her nose. “I do not see how I am the villain here, when you were stupid enough to give your paramour incorrect directions to your bedchamber.”

Cassandra hissed. “Knowing the Craven twins and their mother are guests in my house, you should have locked your bedchamber door.”

The Cravens were Cassandra’s guests due to the fire at Craven House, two days previously. They were staying until the smoke damage dissipated. The fact that Cassandra was infatuated with Anthony was the driving force behind Cassandra’s kind offer. Everybody knew it.

“I have already had that pointed out to me, and it is not a mistake I will make twice.” She gave Anthony a scathing look.

Cassandra couldn’t hide her bitterness. “You won’t need to make it twice. Once has seen you catch the prize. Very well planned out.”

“I did not invite the Earl or his brother to stay. You did. If anyone had ulterior motives, it was you! Don’t get upset just because your plan has gone astray.”

“Why you ungrateful wench …”

Lord Wickham appeared amused. “Now, ladies, tempers please.”

Cassandra pushed his arms away and moved toward her, shaking a finger. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken you and your brother in. You traitor—”

“I …” Melissa bit back her words as nerves tightened her throat.

“That’s quite enough, Cassandra. No one betrayed you. My brother, however, betrayed me. The mistake was mine, and now I must pay for it.”

His words seemed to pacify Cassandra while they heaped pain upon Melissa’s festering pride. Melissa lost her appetite. She turned to leave the room.

Lord Wickham called after her. “Are you not hungry?”

She leveled a cool look over her shoulder. “No.”

“Then I would like a few words with you. Cassandra, my dear, may we use your late husband’s study?”

Not waiting for a reply, he gripped Melissa’s elbow and shepherded her out the door. “This way …” He indicated up the stairs to the first landing. “It’s the door on your left.”

“Unlike you, my lord, I know every room in this house …”

He chose to ignore her remark, and once they’d entered the study Lord Wickham walked to the large windows that overlooked Cassandra’s back garden. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed to lose himself in thought.

Melissa cleared her throat.

Still he did not respond. The silence was nerve-wracking.

“I’m sorry the situation has got so complicated. I would’ve hoped that I might have been able to talk my brother around this morning, but he was not inclined to change his mind.”

Anthony nodded, still looking out the window.

“I’m pleased you did not take up his challenge for a duel. Getting yourself killed wouldn’t have helped anyone.” She gave a shudder. “I couldn’t bear to think I’d been the cause of anyone’s death, whether it was actually my fault or not.”

He gave her a piercing stare over his left shoulder. “No, killing your brother would not have been the solution.”

Melissa licked her lips. “Speaking of which, my lord—”

“Please, we are well beyond formality, call me Anthony.”

“Yes, well, Anthony—” She counted to ten. “Can’t you turn around? It’s difficult talking to someone’s back. It’s rude and very off-putting.”

His big shoulders rippled beneath his navy coat as he sighed and turned to face her.

Her breath hitched; he was so handsome. His gray eyes pinned her beneath a probing gaze. She moved, hoping to distract herself from the effect he was having on her. She crossed the room to one of the large leather armchairs and sat demurely. “I may have a solution to our situation. You do not wish to marry me—”

He raised a perfect dark eyebrow and gave her a smile that literally took her breath away. “We are getting married. I will brook no argument. I will not have the Wickham name disgraced. There has been enough scandal in my family.”

If she didn’t already have a
tendre
for him, or if she knew she could never come to love him, the marriage might have worked. But she wouldn’t dare love him while he simply saw her as a woman to bear his children, run his home, and plan his entertainments. A woman who never questioned his liaisons. In time she’d be left languishing in the country, missing him terribly, while he cavorted in London with his latest paramours. She just knew it.

Her friend Lady Sarah Campbell endured her husband’s disinterest. She bore the humiliation of his affairs and was often the subject of gossip and pity.

Melissa would rather not love at all than love a man who would never love her. So it was imperative to nip this indiscretion in the bud, before she fell under his spell any further.

Melissa felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t want to marry you.”

His gray eyes darkened to the color of coal. “Am I that terrifying?”

She shook her head.

“I realize my deflowering of you could have been better, but I won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Melissa’s bottom lip quivered as she tried to forget the feel of his body holding her, or his enormous member inside her … “I have no doubt you would make a marvelous lover, but you would likely be a wretched husband.” She shrugged her shoulders. “To me anyway.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “You are right of course. I would make a terrible husband. But you forget one thing.”

“That is …”

He strolled over to her chair and looked down at her. “You have forgotten the most important thing of all. You might be with child.” The word “child” seemed to stick in his throat, and his eyes widened as if he was in shock. He shook himself, drew in a deep breath, and added, “I am not heartless enough to leave you to face Society’s wrath pregnant with my child.”

Melissa felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t thought of that. “We could wait and see if I am with child before rushing into anything.”

Anthony’s face clouded in anger, his eyes narrowed and darkened like the sky before a thunderstorm. Melissa watched the tick in his taut jaw with fascination. She’d just given him a way out, yet he seemed very displeased.

“You must think I have no honor at all.”

She pleaded with him. “No, it’s not that. I think, so far, you’ve proved to be very honorable; I applaud you for it. But there is no need to sacrifice yourself for me.”

He crouched down before her chair and swallowed her hand in his. “I want to protect you from a Society that would hurt you. Why are you fighting me on this?” His eyes never left hers as he raised her hand to his lips.

A hurricane of emotions swirling around her, Melissa could hardly think. What was he up to? For a man so vehemently opposed to marriage, he seemed desperate to find reasons for the marriage to go ahead. She eyed him wearily.

That was a mistake. Her body stirred at his closeness. No man ever aroused her the way Anthony could. Merely looking at him now rekindled the delicious sparks between them.

She swallowed, aware of her humming nerves, the hollow flip-flopping sensation in her stomach, and the tingling warmth between her thighs.

Before she could help herself she uttered, “I just want to be happy.”

“Your pulse is racing, I can feel it.” His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her wrist like a feather. “At the moment what would make me extremely happy would be to lock the door and make love to you in a manner more fitting than last night’s performance. To hear your small cries of passion, to make you wet with desire, and to sink between your soft thighs and let you touch heaven.”

Now she was afraid. Something was wrong. He was trying to beguile her into this marriage—why? Melissa couldn’t hold his seductive gaze. Warmth seared her skin at his touch.

Before she could even think to pull away, he leaned forward and kissed her … giving her a long, lingering, completely devastating reminder of the sensual power he held over her.

When he straightened, leaving her dazed and longing, his face was serious. “We will be married as soon as I obtain the special license. That is the only course open to us. I know it’s not what you would have chosen, but I could make you happy. I can’t promise to ever love you, but I can make your life comfortable. You’ll want for nothing.”

Except love, Melissa thought glumly. “I want to be happy, that’s true. I’m just not sure you’re the type of man that could make me happy.” Melissa knew with certainty he would never be faithful. The ache in the vicinity of her heart sent pain lancing down her arms until she had to clench her fists.

Lord Wickham’s eyes noted the movement.

He was reputedly a man of insatiable tastes where the opposite sex was concerned. She did not expect him to change his ways overnight—or ever—not for her.

He was staring at her intently. “Can you say that any other man would make you happy? Are you in love with someone else?”

She sucked in a short breath. “No. I am not in love with anyone.”

“Then there is nothing more to discuss. You will become my wife. Society will feed you to the wolves with any other outcome.”

Society. With sinking heart Melissa’s hopes of avoiding becoming the Countess of Wickham died. She would never win against the might of the
ton
. Her charity work, her fight for people’s freedom, was all she had. She would surely lose her ability to secure funds, to lobby for changes to the law. As the Countess of Wickham she would be afforded entry into the highest echelons of Society. She could do a world of good, perhaps speed the passage of change. But she was going to have to give up her freedom to achieve her goal—the abolition of slavery in all forms—first Negroes and then she would help women. Women who, often, were no better than slaves. Owned by men. Men who could treat them as they saw fit. The
ton
was full of examples of men’s cruelty.