Wicked (8 page)

James had received his share of admonishments and even some whippings from the annoying preacher, but the punishments had only lasted until James had grown taller than Oscar. Oscar liked to pick on people who were weaker and smaller.

How dreadful that Stanley would drag her there. Oscar was unpleasant enough in a dining room where he was constrained by societal norms and etiquette. Behind a pulpit, in full religious regalia, he was nauseating. What was Stanley thinking?

“I take it you weren’t pleased with what you witnessed,” he tentatively said.

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Oscar is a bully and fiend. Don’t let him bother you. He’s not worth it.”

She looked sad and weary and so alone. There was an air about her that rattled his masculine instincts, urging him to protect her, to shelter her from harm. But her situation was beyond him, and he had to remember that it was.

“May I ask you a question?” she said.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, but you can certainly ask.”

“If you were pressed to commit a moral wrong, but by doing it you’d be serving the greater good, would you proceed?”

“That sounds like the sort of unsolvable philosophical puzzles my professors posed when I was in school.”

She held out her palms, as if weighing two heavy objects. “Would you risk sin and damnation or would you cast caution to the wind?”

“I have no idea.”

“What if you had no other option but to agree? What then?”

“Then…I suppose I’ve never viewed a bit of
sin
as being all that horrid. And the
damnation
I’ll leave to pious idiots like Oscar Oswald.”

“You’re hopeless,” she scoffed. “Do you ever wish you could snap your fingers and suddenly become someone new and different?”

“I used to—when I was younger.”

“But not anymore?”

“No. My life’s all right. It wasn’t so grand when I was a boy, but then I grew up and went off to the army. Things were better for me there.”

“I heard you were brought to Summerfield from an orphanage.”

“Why, Miss Ralston!” he mocked. “Have you been gossiping about me?”

“Yes. Quite flagrantly.”

“Shame on you.”

“I expect you’ll survive it.”

“I expect I will too, and I must confide that I’m positively ecstatic to discover you were interested in learning more about me.”

“Be silent, you vain oaf.” She peeked up at him and inquired, “Why are you pestering me? There are dozens of women on the estate and hundreds in the village. Why not harass one of them? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” he honestly told her, and he truly didn’t. She intrigued him, and he hadn’t a clue as to why. He couldn’t stay away.

And wasn’t it best if he wooed her? It would make the ending so much simpler.

“You
know
why you’re doing it,” she chided. “Are you trying to get me in trouble with Mr. Oswald? Are you trying to jeopardize my betrothal?”

“No.”

“If you don’t want me to marry him, admit it. Don’t play these games with me.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if he marries you. I’m serious. His business isn’t any of mine.”

“How can you say that? You live here! You’ve always lived here, and while I don’t for a second understand your relationship with Mr. Oswald, everything he does affects you.”

“It affected me when I was a child. I’m an adult now, and he can go hang for all I care.”

“Then why are you in my room? Tell me the real reason so we can deal with it and I can convince you to depart before we’re caught together.”

She turned from the window so she was facing him. He gazed down at her, riveted by the green of her eyes. She was smart and fetching, and she deserved so much more than Stanley and the plans he had for her.

It would be wonderful if James could steal her away from Stanley, if he could sneak off with her and wed her himself. Yet he didn’t have the money or the desire to ever wed. Many of his friends had let themselves be leg-shackled, and none of them were happy.

If James was eager for feminine company, he fraternized with trollops who made no demands on him. They were content to frolic without any extended commitment. A gently bred female like Rose Ralston would bring a host of responsibilities he prayed he’d never have the misfortune to assume.

“You fascinate me,” he confessed.

“You barely know me. I couldn’t possibly.”

“You’re so brave.”

“Me? Brave?”

“Yes. You picked up and traveled to Summerfield, and you’re ready to proceed with Stanley. I’m fascinated and charmed.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I am.”

When he stood so near to her, he could feel a current of energy flowing between them. He’d never experienced such a stirring sensation and couldn’t seem to tamp it down. He didn’t
want
to tamp it down. He wanted to fan the flames, wanted to let it grow and grow until it spiraled into an inferno that couldn’t be controlled.

Where would it lead? Where would it end? The answers to those questions were alarming.

She was Stanley’s. She’d always be Stanley’s, and James couldn’t forget that fact. Still, he was a cad and scapegrace. Stanley would be the first to complain about it. If James took liberties, if he misbehaved, wasn’t it expected? Who would ever know? It wasn’t as if he’d shout the news to the servants.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Just close them.”

To his surprise, she obeyed.

The woman was a trusting ninny! She claimed to have heard rumors about him, but clearly, they weren’t the worst ones. He was an avowed libertine, and they were alone in an isolated wing of the house. He might perpetrate any wickedness, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Not that he would harm her, but still…

Before he could change his mind, before
she
could change hers, he dipped down and kissed her.

In the entire history of kisses, it wasn’t much about which to brag. He didn’t grab her and crush her to his chest. He didn’t yank the ribbon from her hair and run his fingers through the auburn tresses. He simply rested his palm on her waist and touched his lips to hers.

As he drew away, he was shocked to find that his pulse was racing, his blood pounding in his veins. He was awash with lust, his body crying out for him to ravish her, and the strength of the urge frightened him.

Her eyes fluttered open, and as she peered up at him, she looked young and confused and very, very pretty.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she quietly scolded.

He shrugged. “I’m renowned for doing what I shouldn’t. I’ve always been that way.”

“It’s so wrong. Everything about this place is wrong. Mr. Oswald. You. Vicar Oswald. Summerfield. The betrothal.”

“It’s why I think you’re so brave to have come.”

“Would you take me away from here and marry me yourself?” she stunned him by asking.

“See what I mean? You’re so courageous.” He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t have the resources to rescue you. I don’t have the funds or a home of my own, and I’m so aggravatingly vain. You wouldn’t want me as a husband.”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing with shame. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’d help you if I could.”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“It’s not foolish to hope for a better conclusion.”

“Well, I’ve made my bed, and it appears it’s time to lie in it.” She stepped away and straightened, and she seemed different somehow, as if she’d erected a barrier she wouldn’t let him breach again.

“You have to go now,” she insisted.

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Are you and Mr. Drake leaving for London?”

“That’s the plan.”

“When will it be?”

“Maybe tomorrow or maybe in a few weeks.”

“I can’t keep bumping into you, Mr. Talbot. We have to avoid each other.”

“I don’t want to avoid you.”

“We
have
to, and we most assuredly can’t be together like this. Please stay away.”

“Call me James.” He was absurdly eager for her to speak his name. “Call me James and perhaps I’ll comply with your request.”

“No, you won’t, and you must depart at once. I believe I’ve betrayed Mr. Oswald sufficiently for one evening, don’t you?”

She slid away and went to the door. She peeked into the hall and gestured for him to hurry out.

He hesitated, debating whether he should argue, debating whether he should remain, but she didn’t realize she had no control over what was about to happen. In the future, she would have plenty of reasons to hate him, and he didn’t need to supply any extra ones so early in their relationship. It would only make matters harder between them down the road.

He went to the door too, and as he passed her, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the key.

“Don’t come back,” she warned. “You won’t be able to get in.”

He might have told her there was another entrance, a secret staircase that he’d used often as an adolescent when he’d been anxious to sneak out unseen.

But he didn’t tell her. She’d learn about it later on.

“Good night,” he said.

She didn’t offer the same goodbye, and he walked out, dawdling until she spun the key in the lock. Just to be sure, he tried the knob.

“Go!” she hissed on the other side of the wood.

He strolled away, feeling disconcerted and more alone than he’d been in a very long time.

“You’ll remain by my side all evening.”

“I don’t know why I should have to.”

“Because I said so.”

Veronica peered over at her stepfather. Usually, she could manipulate him—within reason—but he was being abnormally recalcitrant.

She was an inch away from letting loose with vitriol, but it was pointless to fight with him. She had to sweet-talk and flatter and cajole, had to plant an idea in his head, then hammer away until he presumed it was his own.

He was a self-important twit who believed people were impressed by his cleric’s collar. In reality, he was widely recognized as a belligerent incompetent. It never occurred to him that she might have views that differed from his own or that she might not care two figs for his opinion.

They were at Summerfield Manor again, Stanley hosting another supper party with neighbors invited to meet Miss Ralston. For a horrifying interval after their invitation arrived, Oscar had claimed they wouldn’t attend, but of course, he couldn’t bear to refuse.

He loved to be observed as he strolled through the house, loved to remind others that he was Stanley’s only brother.

“I like Miss Ralston very much,” Veronica said. “I hope she and I will be great friends.”

“If you wish to befriend her, it will be while you are beside me so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Why are you so upset? Have you been quarreling with Uncle Stanley?”

“Yes. That is why I nearly didn’t come, but it’s important for my parishioners to see me out and about. And that I extend my forgiveness to Stanley. I must shower him with Christian kindness.”

Veronica wanted to gag. Oscar was the least Christian-behaving man in the world, and he and Stanley were always at odds. Stanley constantly taunted Oscar over how he might not inherit Summerfield, and Veronica thought it was terrific fun.

“There’s Miss Ralston now.” Veronica gestured to where the woman was standing in the corner, and she flashed her prettiest smile. “Please, Papa Oscar. Just for a few minutes? You can watch me the whole time.”

“Oh, all right,” he ultimately grumbled, “but stay where I can see you. I’d better not have to chase you out in the garden ever again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without your permission,” she lied.

She slipped away, and as she felt his stern gaze following her, she sighed with exasperation. She was eighteen and lived in a bloody preacher’s rectory. Her stepfather was hated by all. They were disliked, isolated from society, with Stanley their sole relative. Despite how Oscar nagged, Veronica intended to enjoy herself.

At the prior party, he’d left early, so he’d made her leave too. She’d missed the dancing, and it couldn’t happen again. She had to find more ways to sneak away—especially with James and Lucas visiting.

James was her rescue plan, her escape route to the exciting life she deserved. Previously, she’d been too little to attract his attention, but she’d grown up. He was too smart to tarry in a boring place like Summerfield. With his having quit the army, he would move to London where he and Lucas would wallow in adventures she couldn’t begin to imagine.

It seemed fitting that they take her along. She was determined to marry James, so she needed opportunities to flirt. A friendship with Miss Ralston was an innocent ploy to spend more time at the manor with him.

Plus, Veronica wouldn’t let Miss Ralston have James all to herself. She might get ideas. She might look at handsome, virile James, then at elderly, decrepit Stanley, and decide she’d rather have the younger man. But he wasn’t available to Miss Ralston or any other female.

Miss Ralston had to understand that she could only have what Veronica was willing to give her. And it certainly wasn’t James Talbot.

* * * *

“Will she agree?”

“Yes.”

“Has she told you she will?”

“No, but I expect to have her affirmative answer in the morning.”

Stanley glared at James, visually warning him to be silent. Stanley was in no mood to have another inane discussion about Miss Ralston. The bargain was struck. Why hash it out all over again?

James had resided at Summerfield most of his life, and as a boy, Edwina had spoiled him, so he occasionally assumed his position to be higher than it was. He occasionally assumed he had the right to question Stanley, but no one was allowed to do that.

Stanley was king of his domain, but in light of his current predicament, he’d had to confide in James, and he loathed that fact. He didn’t like James to know his business, didn’t like to be beholden to James on any level, but he’d finally been confronted by a situation he couldn’t manage on his own.

“She might surprise you,” James said.

“No woman ever has.”