Simply Wicked (4 page)

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

He bowed, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Good afternoon, my lady. I hope you are having a pleasant day?”

His voice was low and held a hint of laughter. Was he amused by her? Was this whole thing a big joke? She motioned him to 26 /
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the seat opposite her and he sat down, stretching his long legs out toward the fire.

Lisette took a seat on the couch and then immediately jumped up.

“Shall I ring for some tea?”

“Why not? You treat this place as if it’s your house anyway.”

Marguerite continued to smile through her teeth as Lisette laughed at her.

“Your siblings seem to have the ability to bamboozle us poor mortals into doing whatever they want.”

Marguerite glanced across at Lord Anthony as he spoke.

“You’ve noticed that, have you?”

“Yes, I suspect that’s the main reason I find myself here today.”

Heat rose in Marguerite’s cheeks. “There is no need for you to be here at all. You are quite free to leave.”

He smiled and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. It is just entertaining to see the twins having the same effect on someone else as they do on me.”

Goodness, he was attractive when he smiled: his generous mouth relaxed, and his blue eyes lit with humor and warmth.

Why would a man who looked like that be willing to squire her around town?

Christian cleared his throat. “Lisette and I have to go. We have another appointment.” He looked at Lord Anthony. “Will you be all right to get back to your home?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Christian bowed and took Lisette’s hand. “We’ll come and see you tomorrow, Marguerite!”

When the door slammed behind the twins, Marguerite sighed.

As a widow, was it appropriate for her to entertain a single man alone? She suspected her mama-in-law would disapprove. Should she call her reluctant chaperone down from her room?

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“Can I help you with something?”

Lord Anthony was staring at her, a quizzical smile on his lips. She subsided back into her chair.

“I was just wondering about the propriety of your visit. Are widows allowed to entertain unmarried men at home?”

“Allowed? I should imagine they are encouraged to do so.”

She blinked at him. “Are you jesting, sir?”

“Of course I am.” He sat forward, hands clasped together.

“At least the twins’ unconventional behavior has allowed us to move on from the dreary boundaries of polite conversation and actually get to know each other a little.”

Marguerite gave a reluctant laugh. “I suppose that’s true.

They are annoying, aren’t they?” She hesitated, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You can leave if you want to. I won’t be offended.”

He smiled. “If I swear that I have no intention of leaping across the room and dishonoring you, may I stay for tea?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you intrigue me.”

She shrugged. “I’m not worthy of such interest, sir.”

“I think you are. Why would a woman as beautiful as you need an escort for the Season?”

“I don’t need an escort.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what the twins told me, and you did agree to this meeting.”

“I agreed to it to stop them bothering me, surely you can understand that.”

He frowned. “Of course I can, but it doesn’t explain why I’ve never met you before, why you don’t go out into society.”

“I doubt you frequent
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parties, my lord. Apparently you would be besieged by matchmaking mothers. How would you know if you’d met me?”

He held her gaze. “Because you are beautiful?”

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“That is a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Why? Because you don’t think you are?” He smiled. “Surely beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Then you obviously need spectacles.”

His smile widened. “My eyesight is considered superior, madame, and you are blushing.”

Marguerite was saved from answering by the arrival of the tea tray. She busied herself setting things out, her mind awhirl.

When had she last had such an improper and improbable conversation with a man? Never, was the answer. Lord Anthony was certainly different.

Anthony waited as Marguerite fussed over the tea cups and saucers. He didn’t mind. It gave him the opportunity to observe her high cheekbones, huge dark eyes and cupid’s bow mouth in profile. She was as classically beautiful as her mother, their coloring as different as the sun to the moon but breathtaking all the same.

She was petite too, her figure well suited to the higher-waisted gowns and long flowing lines of current fashion. He’d never really looked much at women before, but the purity of her beauty drew him in, made him want to kneel at her feet and worship her . . .

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as she presented him with a cup of tea.

“You do not want it?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I was thinking about something else.

The tea is most welcome.”

He drank it fast, almost burning his tongue, eager to return to their conversation, surprised by how interested he was in finding out more about Marguerite.

“Are you willing to talk to me then?”

She stared at him, her expression dubious. “As long as you don’t slobber over me.”

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He couldn’t help smiling. “I did not slobber; I’m not a dog or a horse. I merely suggested I thought you beautiful.”

“Then don’t.”

He set down his cup. “I’ll stop if you agree to come out with me on Friday night.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you are bored? Because you know you would enjoy my company?”

She half-smiled. “Not only blind but conceited as well.”

He shrugged, surprised by how much he enjoyed her acerbic replies. It seemed all Helene’s children had inherited their mother’s unorthodox nature. He hoped to God that Marguerite was unique enough to understand and appreciate his require-ments. He sighed.

“Can I be honest with you? I’m not just trying to avoid matchmaking mothers. I promised my brother I would turn over a new leaf, and that involves going out into society more and spending less time indulging in the excesses of the pleasure house. No offense intended to your mother, of course.”

Marguerite nodded but didn’t speak, her attention fixed on his face.

“We need each other. I want to reintroduce myself into polite society, and you need to enjoy yourself without feeling threatened by all the men who covet your beauty and wealth.”

“You think that’s why I don’t go out?”

“Isn’t it?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s not as simple as that. After my husband died, there were many who blamed me for his death.”

She winced. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

“He died in a duel, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“He was an adult?”

“Yes . . .”

“Then he made a foolish decision and paid the price for it.”

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“But he wouldn’t have fought the duel if he hadn’t married me.”

“If he was the kind of man who chose to settle his problems in such an archaic manner, then sooner or later he would probably have found some way to kill himself. You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for his stupidity.”

Her chin went up. “Justin was not stupid!”

He inclined his head. “If you say so, but why allow a little gossip over something that happened so long ago affect your whole life? The
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has probably forgotten all about you.”

“You are very rude.”

“No, I’m just being honest.” He smiled at her. “Isn’t it refreshing?”

She glared at him for at least a minute before her face relaxed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“May I call you Marguerite?”

“Why?”

“So that you can call me Anthony and we can be friends.”

She put her cup down and stared at him. “I do not understand you at all.”

“You should. I’m offering to be your friend—or do you have too many of them to care for another?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Everyone needs friends.”

Anthony held out his hand. “Then good; let’s agree to keep each other company for a while. We can brave the stares of the
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together and laugh at them behind their backs.”

Marguerite took his hand and slowly shook it. “I will come out with you on Friday night.”

He kissed her fingers. “Good, I’m looking forward to it already.”

4

Anthony allowed his valet to help him into his tight navy blue coat and settle it on his shoulders. From Brody’s muttered comments, he knew he looked well tonight and hoped Marguerite would think so too. It was strange to be dressing to go out on the town with a woman. When he wasn’t at work or at Madame Helene’s, he tended to pursue his pleasures with a group of gentlemen he’d known since his school days—younger sons of wealthy families and a few upstart cits who were happy to pay their way to be included in high society.

“You’ll do, sir.”

Anthony winked at Brody who scowled back at him.

“Thank you, I’m glad I meet with your approval.”

Brody snorted. “Now don’t come back with those fine clothes all ruined, sir.”

“I promise I’ll take care of them. I’m going to a ball at the Sutcliffs’. I doubt I’ll get up to anything too dangerous there.”

“You’re going to a ball, sir? A real one?”

“Yes. Don’t look so shocked.”

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Brody smiled and displayed several missing teeth. “Well I never. Are you sure it ain’t at one of those ungodly places where men dress up as women?”

Anthony picked up his gloves and black cloak. “No, it is a real ball with real women.”

“Well thank the lord for that. I thought the day would never come.”

“Obviously your prayers have been answered; may I suggest you keep praying?”

Brody’s amusement faded. “I will, sir, don’t you ever doubt it.”

Embarrassed by the gleam of devotion and real concern in Brody’s brown eyes, Anthony turned away. That was the problem with servants who had known you since you were a child—

nothing was sacred or secret. It seemed Helene was right and everyone was worried about him. He smiled. Perhaps tonight he would make Brody proud.

He came down the main staircase, his attention fixed on buttoning his gloves, and almost walked straight into his mother.

“Good evening, Mama, you look very nice.” He bent to kiss her soft scented cheek. “Are you going out or coming in?”

She was dressed in pale green satin, with pearls at her throat and in the tiara in her hair. Her skin was so soft and unlined, it was hard to believe she was his mother. She had been only eighteen when Anthony was born, a bride of less than a year trying to deal with a household grieving for the loss of the first count-ess and kidnapping of the first-born son.

“I’m going to the Sutcliffs’ ball.” Her expression tightened.

“I suppose you’re off to Madame’s.”

There it was again, that note of apprehension beneath her tight smile. Had his behavior become so predictable and extreme that even his mother had noticed? He’d tried hard to SIMPLY WICKED / 33

conceal the worst of his excesses from her. He hastened to pat her hand.

“I’m not going to Madame’s tonight; I have other plans. Perhaps I’ll see you later?”

He felt her surprised expression follow him out of the house and into his waiting carriage.

By the time he walked up to Marguerite’s narrow front door, it was already open. The butler who had admitted him and the twins on their previous visit bowed low.

“My lady is ready, my lord. She has been informed of your arrival.”

Anthony stepped into the hallway and looked up toward the landing. Marguerite was in the process of descending the stairs, one hand grasped the skirt of her dark lilac gown. Diamonds glinted at her wrists, around her throat and in her hair.

Behind her trailed an elderly rotund woman dressed in canary yellow which matched the color of her exceedingly obvious wig.

Anthony bowed as Marguerite reached him and held out his hand.

“You look . . .” he paused until she locked gazes with him.

“I’m not allowed to say you’re beautiful, am I? You look passable. Will that suffice?”

Her mouth twitched up at one corner. “Perfectly.” She turned toward the older woman who had finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. “May I present Mrs. Lily Jones? She is one of Justin’s great-aunts and my chaperone.”

Anthony took the small pudgy hand held out to him and bowed. “Ma’am, it is a pleasure.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. You’re probably wishing me to the devil.”

She scowled at Anthony. “I know what young men are like.”

Anthony suppressed a grin and turned back to Marguerite.

“Are you ready to go?”

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She nodded and he took her hand and placed it on his sleeve.

He bent closer. “Is she always so protective of you?”

“It’s not that she’s protective of me, she just hates men.”

“All men? What about her husband?”

“Apparently, he was the worst.”

He broke off the conversation to settle her into the carriage and return for Mrs. Jones. He took the seat opposite the ladies and smiled benignly even though Mrs. Jones continued to stare at him as if he were an insect that should be trodden underfoot.

Luckily the journey to Grosvenor Square, where the Sutcliffs had their residence, was short, so he didn’t have to endure the close scrutiny for long.

Anthony waited in the vast hallway for the ladies to reappear, absorbing the chattering crowds of people and the sense of excitement. He slowly inhaled the smell of over-perfumed bodies and, even worse, those who obviously didn’t bathe at all. Why did people flock together like this? Was it really supposed to be fun?

He turned to find Marguerite at his elbow, her expression apprehensive, and smiled down at her. “Are you ready to brave the ballroom?”

She hesitated for so long that he almost repeated his question. “I suppose I am.”