A Little Bit Wild (2 page)

In a highly predictable gesture, the dowager baroness pressed her palm over her heart. "What's happened? Is it Aidan? What has happened to my sweet, sweet boy?"

"It's not Aidan. It's Marissa. She is compromised."

The baroness gasped so loudly that the sound echoed through the room.

"Oh, why did you tell her?" Marissa sighed.

Edward was busy leading their mother toward a chair, where she folded into a graceful faint. Another highly predictable gesture.

He stood straight and dusted off his hands as if he'd just completed a task. "She might have grown suspicious when we arranged your hurried wedding completely out of the blue."

"There's no reason for me to marry!"

"Marissa, don't act even more a fool than you already have. It's clear from what I witnessed that you could very well be pregnant. We must find you a husband immediately."

"That's absurd!" But before she'd finished speaking the words, fear rushed over her on a dark wave. She hadn't really thought of that. The mechanics of pregnancy were a vague cloud of rumor and overheard tidbits she'd collected for years. "I thought... the first time... isn't it impossible?"

"No, it's not. And I rather wish you'd approached me with any questions about marriage and breeding before this happened."

The line of Edward's mouth turned down. "You will either marry that scoundrel or you'll marry someone else. A wedding will help dispel any rumors, and it will go a long way toward distracting from an early birth. And
apparently
you need some way to occupy your time. Being a wife should take care of your boredom."

"But ..." Her jaw began to tremble, so she clenched it shut for a count often. "But I do not wish to leave here. This is my home."

The anger left his face as if it had been swept away by a hand. "I know. I don't wish you to go either. We shall find someone who will bring you home whenever you wish. Someone biddable."

"Well, who else would marry a ruined woman and accept a bastard?" she whispered. "Someone biddable and ... henpecked."

"Marissa..."

Her mother groaned dramatically, eyelids fluttering. The swoon was about to come to a gasping end.

Panic swarmed through Marissa's chest. She couldn't argue her brother's point. She hadn't meant to bring her family shame. She hadn't meant anything at all by it. But if Peter White spread the tale it would be awkward. And if she was pregnant, there could be no choice. But if he didn't and she wasn't. . .

"Edward, it will take time to find a willing and acceptable match, won't it? Decent men do not hang about at crossroads just waiting for a ruined woman to take them home."

"Ah ..." he started.

"Harry will never tell a soul. And if there are to be permanent consequences, we should know within two weeks. Two weeks would be quick enough! If you must orchestrate a betrothal, let us prepare for it and then forget it entirely when I'm proved, er... unripened."

A blush flared up his neck. "I... is there no one you are fond of? No one who would make an offer?"

"I was rather fond of the gentleman in question before this evening. He's an excellent dancer, and his coat always fits perfectly. But now ... no. No one."

Her brother muttered something that sounded like, "His coat,"just as her mother's eyes fluttered open.

"Marissa," she sighed. "How could you? Why would you do something so
awful?"

Awful. Yes, her mother had that right. "I don't know," she replied honestly. There had been wine and secret kisses, and it had seemed rather exciting when they'd stumbled into this room together. Then it had deteriorated into something more easily described in scientific terms than poetry. "Idiot," she bit out.

"Yes, you are an idiot!" her mother cried.

"I meant Mr. White."

"Mr. White," her mother said. "Hm. He
is
an excellent dancer. And a handsome fellow. He does bring in a fair income. Yes, he'll make a perfectly good husband."

Edward waved her out. "We'll discuss this later, Mother. Right now I have to think. Where is Aidan when I need him? He's supposed to be here, and he probably knows some likely fellows."

"Please don't tell him," Marissa pled. Somehow, she wasn't the least bit surprised that her words preceded the entrance of a footman by mere seconds.

"Mr. Aidan York has arrived, my lord," the servant said, bowing. "He sends apologies for his tardiness and bids me tell you he'll descend as soon as he's washed and dressed."

"Perfect," Edward murmured. "I won't tell him until White has had time to pack and flee. Otherwise we might have a murder on our hands."

"Murder!" their mother gasped, then slumped back into the chair, presumably unconscious, though not so unconscious that she couldn't eavesdrop, of course.

Marissa glanced around to see if there was a chair close enough for her to faint into as well, but there was only the couch, and she'd had enough of that. There was nothing to be done but take a deep breath and live with the consequences of what she'd done.

A moment later she realized there was one more thing she could do. The wine in her stomach began a war with the anxiety now coursing through her body. Head spinning, Marissa leaned over to peer closely at the gold-hued Oriental rug beneath her feet. And then she was sick all over it.

"Did I thank you yet for the invitation?" Jude Bertrand asked half-jokingly as he followed Aidan York down the curved staircase.

Aidan tossed a glance over his shoulder and said nothing, though he raised an amused eyebrow.

Jude had, in fact, thanked him several times already. For some reason, being on the York estate filled Jude with buoyancy. The house was large and airy, the windows looking out onto wild meadows and swaths of forest. The land enchanted him, and the family... well, oddly enough, the family reminded him of his early childhood. Decidedly strange, as his early years had been spent in what had essentially been a French whorehouse.

Chuckling at the odd comparison, Jude ran his hand down the banister, remembering his stay here last year and a certain strawberry-haired hoyden's slide down the wood. She'd thought no one else awake at that early hour, and Jude hadn't disabused her of the notion. He'd simply watched her slide down the banister, and then he'd continued on his way, marveling that no one else seemed able to see the wildness inside her.

He was greatly anticipating seeing her again.

When they reached the first floor, Aidan York nodded to a few of the guests but continued on toward his brother's study. Jude followed. The door was closed when they reached it. Raised voices could be heard vibrating through the wood, but Jude felt no surprise. The York family was surprisingly dramatic for such an established peerage.

Aidan didn't seem surprised either. He simply gave a perfunctory knock and walked into chaos.

The dowager baroness had draped herself across the settee and was weeping loudly into a lace handkerchief. The baron, Aidan's older brother, paced in front of the fireplace, his red face giving him away as the source of the shouting. A cousin was there too. Harry, maybe? He looked decidedly morose.

Jude raised a hand in greeting to the mob.

"Aidan," balkcd Edward. "Thank God you're here!"

Then his gaze shifted to Jude. "Jude,
you
can't be here. I'm sorry."

"Oh. All right then." He had spun halfway back toward the hall when Aidan's hand stopped him.

"Don't be melodramatic, Edward." His dry voice was a direct contrast to his brother's. "Of course Jude can stay. Now, what seems to be the latest crisis?"

Edward shook his head. "You don't understand. This is serious. And a very private matter."

"Don't tell me you've fallen in love with the upstairs maid?"

The baroness finally roused herself. "Aidan! Don't be disrespectful." She cocked her head toward Jude, and he offered her a small bow while she studied him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bertrand, but you'll have to ..." She stopped and frowned. "Then again, perhaps Mr. Bertrand could be of use to us. He does bring a certain ... perspective."

Jude raised his eyebrows at that, wondering what she could mean.

"Yes!" the cousin exclaimed. "His mother!"

Ah. Jude nodded. His
mother.
Had Edward gotten a mistress pregnant? "If l can assist you in some way, I'd be happy to. And I was raised from the cradle not to tell tales, of course."

But Edward was shaking his head. "The matter is too sensitive." He tossed a glare in his mother's direction. "As you well know."

Aidan shook his head and crossed the room to the brandy decanter. "This is ridiculous. I'd trust Jude with my life. If he can help you, just spit it out, old man." He collapsed into a chair, so Jude wandered toward the sideboard and poured himself a drink as well. He should have excused himself', but he was more than a little curious now.

He supposed Edward's whisper was meant to be discreet, but it easily filled the whole room. "It's about our sister!" he hissed.

Jude froze and spun back to face the York family. "Marissa?" he asked.

All eyes turned toward him.

"Ah ... I mean Miss York, of course."

When Aidan rose to his feet, the attention in the room shifted to him. "What about Marissa?" His mouth had stiffened to a thin line.

"Now Aidan." his mother said.

"What about Marissa?"
Aidan shouted.

Edward took a deep breath and quietly said, "She's been ruined."

Silence fell over the room. Everyone held their breath and watched as the tips of Aidan's ears turned red. Not a good sign.

The baron held up both hands. "The damage is done. We need to find her a husband, and quickly. Perhaps Jude can help—"

"Who was it?" Aidan ground out. "Was she hurt?"

Jude stepped forward, serious now, but Edward was already shaking his head.

"No, she was drunk. And foolish. But not hurt. And the so-called gentleman is gone now."

”
Who?”
Aidan bellowed.

Edward winced and swallowed hard. "Peter White."

A flurry of muttered threats erupted from Aidan, and then the whole story was told in ills and starts, while Jude listened and thought ugly thoughts about Mr. White. A pretty, arrogant fellow. And apparently a scoundrel. "Cowardly ass," Jude muttered

while Edward explained why Marissa could not marry Mr. White.

"But," Edward rushed on, "she must marry somebody. The servants are talking already. And if that fellow has planted his seed ..."

The baroness's hands fluttered. "This is horrible. Impossible. What if Mr. White insists? It would be his child, after all."

Harry shook his head. "I can feel no sympathy for him there. He had a child by the carriage maker's daughter, and he harbors no tender feelings toward that babe. Cannot even be bothered to set up an income." Harry looked stricken at his own words. "I'm sorry. I should have known he could come to no good. I shouldn't have invited him."

Edward shook his head. "That's not your burden. But now... we must all endeavor to find her a decent gentleman."

"Oh, the torment!" the baroness wailed. "Our Marissa must go to someone kind and respectable. An established man who will treat her well and... and accept the child as his own."

Aidan threw up his hands. "Well, who the hell would do that?"

They all shook their heads sadly and stared at each other.

Jude waited a moment, poking through the swirl of thoughts inside his head to be sure his first instinct was correct. He wasn't a man given to doubting himself, so it took only a few moments to find peace with his decision. Before chaos could begin to rumble through the room again, Jude stepped forward and inclined his head. "I would."

For a moment, no one reacted. No one even looked at him. Then Aidan glanced toward him with a frown. "You would what, Jude?"

"I would marry your sister."

That got everyone's attention.

"You?" the baroness snapped.

"Yes, me."

"But you're ..."

Jude smiled. "A bastard?"

"Well," she answered,
"yes.
Granted, I thought you might offer a perspective or perhaps advice, but... a natural-born husband ..."

"Ah, but I'm the natural son of a duke. The
acknowledged
natural son of a duke. And how else would you land a duke's son in this situation? I don't have a title to protect, so I needn't worry about having an illegitimate heir. And I didn't receive my father's name, so I'm not even concerned about passing that on."

He watched the wheels turning behind the baroness's eyes. "You make an interesting point," she conceded.

Aidan shoved his hands into his pockets and glared. "Why would you want to marry my sister? Do you even know her?"

"Of course I know her. I've been here for, what, four parties now? Then again, I'm not entirely sure she knows me."

Aidan grunted in acknowledgement. They both knew that Jude was not the type to attract notice from gently bred young women. He was large and not elegantly made. His features were neither refined nor comforting. Sheltered young girls edged away from him.