Seduced by a Scoundrel (15 page)

“Good morning,” Alicia called louder.

The maid paid no heed, laying the sticks of wood on the grate. Her every move was noiseless, efficient, almost furtive.

Had Yates told the staff to pretend the mistress of the house didn’t exist? The very thought angered Alicia.

“It’s quite all right to speak,” she said, pushing off the counterpane and sliding out of bed. She shivered as her warm bare feet met the cold rug. She reached for her dressing gown, lying on a chair. “I merely wish to know your name.”

Still the housemaid ignored her.

Gritting her teeth, Alicia donned the robe and knotted the sash. This impertinence could not continue. She stepped quickly to the hearth.

The maidservant was a stout young woman with a mobcap perched on her dark hair. And she looked vaguely familiar. Wasn’t she the one who had lingered in the foyer on the morning of the wedding, staring at her new mistress until a footman had pulled her away?

It
was
her. And Alicia would tolerate no more disrespect. Leaning down, she placed her hand on that rounded shoulder just as the maid reached for the bucket of coal.

The girl yelped. The bucket tipped over with a loud clatter. Black chunks tumbled over the hearth rug, rolling onto the fine carpet and disappearing under chairs and footstools. She cringed, wide-eyed, her grimy hands pressed to her apple cheeks.

To her chagrin, Alicia realized the servant had heard neither her approach nor her words. Had she been deep in thought? Or was she stone deaf?

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Alicia said, sinking to her knees. “Truly, I didn’t.”

As she spoke, the girl watched her lips. Deaf, then. The knot of anger inside Alicia unraveled into amazement. A rich household like this one could afford to hire the most able-bodied servants. Yet Drake employed a deaf housemaid, a misfit who would be denied a post by the nobility.

It couldn’t be out of kindness. He was a ruthless, selfish man. So that left only one explanation. He must not be aware of her impairment.

The girl’s brown eyes brimmed with tears. Remorsefully, Alicia patted that soot-smudged hand. “Don’t weep,” she said, taking care to form her words slowly. “It was an accident. My fault.”

The maid scrambled to right the bucket. “Nay, m’lady. ’Twas my clumsiness.”

Her voice had a nasal flatness, but by a miracle, she wasn’t mute. Touching the girl’s shoulder to get her attention, Alicia said, “What is your name?”

“Kitty.” Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t put me out on the street, mum, please. I’ll clean up in a jeffy.”

“You won’t lose your post. I promise you that.”

On hands and knees, Alicia gathered the black lumps, dropping them with a tinny bang into the bucket. Kitty scrambled to work faster, glancing cautiously at her mistress, as if unable to believe her reprieve. Alicia vowed to make her believe. In time, Kitty—and the other servants—would realize the lady of the house was no ogress to be feared.

Spying one last piece beneath a gilt chair, she crouched low and stretched out her hand to retrieve it. Her fingers closed around the hard chunk just as a soft rap sounded on the door.

The door connecting her chamber to Drake’s.

Alicia’s heart skittered over a beat. He couldn’t walk in, she reminded herself. The door was locked. Her first night here, she had hidden the key in one of her gloves and tucked it away in the farthest corner of her wardrobe. Every night since, she had tested the bolt before going to bed.

What could Drake Wilder want with her at this hour?

She had a few words to say to him, too. But not until she was fully clothed. If she pretended to be asleep, he would go away in a moment.

The lock rattled. The door swung open. Her husband appeared.

She froze. Like a sultan surveying his harem, he lounged against the gilded frame, his hair mussed and his tall form in an alarming state of undress. He wore no cravat or coat, only dark breeches and a plain white shirt, the tails hanging loose. The unbuttoned front showed a wedge of naked chest. Even his feet were bare.

In his hand he held a ring of keys. She should have guessed he had a spare.

He frowned at the maid, then at Alicia. “Someone cried out,” he said. “What happened here?”

Kitty cowered by the fireplace. Alicia scrambled to her feet, tossed the lump of coal into the bucket, and stepped forward to block his view of the hearth. “Nothing happened,” she said coldly. “And I did not give you permission to unlock that door.”

“I heard sharp words spoken. I won’t have you berating my servants.”

“You misunderstood,” she said quickly, before he could address a question to the maid. “Now give me that key.” She held out her hand.

He twirled the iron ring on his forefinger and caught the keys in his palm with a metallic chink. “I keep the master set.”

“I don’t want the whole ring. Just the key to my door.”

“No,” he said flatly. “Now, I saw Yates this morning. She said you were looking for me.”

Her suspicions about the housekeeper added to her furious tension. Alicia had lain awake half the night, listening for his return, rehearsing the recriminations she would hurl at him. Yet she couldn’t challenge him here, for fear he might perceive Kitty’s affliction. Heaven help her, he’d send the poor girl packing.

Alicia hastened forward and drew him into his chambers. “We’ll talk where there’s more privacy.”

He went quite willingly, closing the door behind them. It was a mistake to touch him, to feel the heat of his flesh through the linen shirt. Stopping a few steps into the room, she snatched back her hand, but she could still feel the hard smoothness of muscle imprinted on her palm.

Feigning indifference, she swung away and surveyed the large chamber. For all its size, it was surprisingly inviting, with books piled on mahogany tables and wild landscapes decorating the walls. The shutters were closed against the dawn. The only light came from a low fire on the hearth and a branch of candles on the bedside table.

Her gaze fixed on that broad bed. The linens were rumpled, and the pillow bore the imprint of his head. He must have been lying there. Odd that he wasn’t clad in nightclothes.

Sauntering to the foot of the bed, he leaned against the post and idly jingled the ring of keys. His mouth slanted into a grin more wicked than that of the devil himself. “Well, well. I did predict you’d come to me in my chamber before the season was out.” He studied her from her sleep-tangled braid down to her small bare toes. “And here you are, all ready for bed.”

Her cheeks went hot. His scrutiny made Alicia aware of herself as a woman—his wife. He could do with her as he willed. He could force her onto the bed, kiss her, subdue her with his superior strength. Uneasiness lurked low in her belly, a feeling she scorned. Irksome man. The high-necked white robe covered her more completely than a ball gown.

“I am here to have a word with you,” she began.

“If you mean to confess your unrequited passion, my darling, then pray proceed.”

Such conceit. She would relish knocking him off his high perch. “It is not
I
we are here to discuss, but you.
Your
behavior.”

He slapped a hand to his bare chest. “I’ve been a paragon of propriety. A veritable vision of virtue.”

“Not with Yates.”

“Yates?” A faint annoyance crossed his features. “I told you not to pester her. She’ll do her job, and you do yours.”

Alicia clenched her fingers into the silk of her robe. She would not allow him to rob her of her rights in this house. Nor to pretend ignorance. “The true question is, what will
you
do with her?”

His black eyebrows lowering, he tossed the ring of keys onto the bed. They landed in his blankets. Right where Alicia was loath to venture. “For pity’s sake,” he said, “stop speaking in riddles. If you’ve something to say, then say it.”

Her gaze snapped from the keys to his face. “All right, then. Yates is your doxy.”

He stood unmoving, his face blank. She could see the peppering of whiskers along his jaw. His untidy state made him appear even more depraved. Abruptly, he burst out laughing, the hearty sound filling the chamber. “So that’s what you imagine while lying in your virgin’s bed.”

“It is no flight of fancy.” Annoyed that he could make purity sound like a fault, Alicia stepped toward him. “The woman has been nothing short of insolent. And there can be only one reason why she feels safe to voice her unbridled opinions to the lady of the house. Because she knows the master will not reprove her.”

“Tell me exactly what she said to you.”

“It is not worth repeating.”

“I will hear what she said. So that I may judge for myself if you are too quick to take offense.”

A flush stung Alicia’s cheeks. “She said … I am too high and mighty to share your bed.”

His dimples deepened, though he didn’t precisely smile. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see.” Prodded by resentment, Alicia edged toward the bed, the carpet soft beneath her bare soles. “The only way she could know that we have a chaste marriage is by
your
telling her.”

“Bosh. The servants can guess we don’t engage in marital relations. They change the linens, don’t forget.”

Alicia aimed a mystified frown at him. What in the world did
that
mean? She suspected he would laugh at her again if she asked him to explain.

She inched a little closer to her goal. “Well. I won’t tolerate your philandering in this house—with Yates or anyone else. If you wish to carry on your affairs, then do so elsewhere.”

The wretch smiled, as if she were a child to be humored. It was now or never. Darting to the four-poster, she scooped up the ring of keys. With the cold hard metal clutched to her bosom, she turned to leave.

Only to discover that he’d moved with catlike stealth to block her path. “If the truth disturbs you,” he purred, “then make her a liar. Come to bed with me.”

He extended his hand to her. She could only gape at him in breathless agitation. One black lock dipped onto his brow, giving him a rakish air. The strong line of his throat widened to the contoured muscles of his chest. Behind her loomed the tousled sheets, the counterpane in a shade of blue as deep and mysterious as his eyes.

“I haven’t slept yet,” he went on in that husky, hypnotic voice. “Lie down with me. Let me hold you, kiss you.”

Defying the dictates of her mind, her body softened. He was her husband. And yet she did not know the intimacy of cuddling in the darkness with him. She could detect his faintly smoky scent, the hint of brandy. He had been at his club all night, gambling, drinking, carousing. She had every reason to despise such a rascal. So why did she feel the bite of temptation?

“You’re violating our agreement,” she snapped, appalled to hear a wobble in her voice.

“Nonsense. We agreed I could charm you. If only you’d let me, I’d show you the sweetest pleasure any woman could know.” Catching her wrist, he brought it to his lips, planting a kiss on her tender inner flesh.

A flurry of gooseflesh raced up her arm and into her bosom. She wanted to succumb, and her weakness horrified her. The keys rattled as she snatched back her hand. “We also agreed you’d stop when I told you so.”

“Which you have yet to do.”

She backed away from the dangerous intent on his face. “Profligate. I’m telling you to stop right now.”

“Puritan,” he murmured. “You can’t deny me forever.”

As if he had all the time in the world, he strolled after her. She retreated until her bottom met the hard edge of a table near the connecting door. She longed to take refuge in her own bedchamber, but Kitty might still be coaxing the coals into flame.

Gripping the keys like a weapon, Alicia glared at him. “Once I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain, you’ll leave me be.”

“Once I’ve had you, I’ll leave you be.”

Did he mean it? That he would cease tormenting her if she allowed him a husband’s rights just once? If she could believe that …

Alicia wrenched her mind from that appalling path. How could she even consider giving an inch to this scoundrel? “This discussion is absurd,” she said icily. “Especially since our agreement is nearly fulfilled.”

He stopped, all playfulness vanishing. “You’ve found a way for me to enter society.”

She nodded, and her heart slowed its frantic beating. The approval of the
ton
was what he really wanted, the reason he had wed her. How foolish of her to have forgotten that. “Yes, I have.”

“Tell me how,” he said.

“Sarah, the Duchess of Featherstone, has agreed to give us her nod of approval.”

His eyes narrowed to a secretive expression. Or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight. “When will this event come about?”

“Lord and Lady Cuthbert are giving a ball next Tuesday. Sarah intends to bring us along as her guests.”

They had spent the afternoon making plans, laughing together like old times, though a certain wariness lingered, perhaps because they each knew they were using the other. But that didn’t seem to matter. Alicia could only think of how amazingly wonderful it was that she and Sarah had overcome their animosity. They had chatted for hours, filling each other in on the joys and sorrows of their lives, although, of course, Alicia had confessed little about her marriage. It was enough for Sarah to know of Gerald’s debts and the necessity of accepting Drake Wilder’s offer.

“Who is she to you?” Drake asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The duchess. You had a wistful look on your face.”

Reluctant to share her private thoughts with him, she schooled her features into a cool expression. “We were friends once. A long time ago—during our come-out Season.”

“If she scorned you after your father’s ruin and your mother’s illness, she isn’t much of a friend.”

“That wasn’t the case. We had a disagreement about … something else.”

“What?”

Alicia compressed her lips. From the force of his stare, she knew he would dig until he uncovered the truth. Wasn’t it better to fob him off with a brief explanation? From the table behind her, she picked up an enameled snuffbox, one of a collection on display. “It was silly, really,” she said, pretending to admire the mosaic design. “We both favored the duke.”