My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) (18 page)

After more than an hour of lying in bed, turning over the same thoughts again and again, she decided to get up. She would merely go to bed early tonight to compensate for the loss of sleep. She threw on a plain muslin day dress and did not bother with her hair. She did not care what she looked like. Only servants would see her. Lord Stacks was sure to be sleeping, as was Mrs. Taylor.

As she stirred around in her chamber, Marmalade leaped from the bed, skimmed across the soft carpet as lightly as a feather, and rubbed his body against Freddie's leg. "Okay, sweet baby," Freddie crooned, stooping to pick him up. "You and I shall go to the library."

***

Still wearing his black evening clothes, Stacks sat behind his desk in the library. He had known sleep would be impossible. He was far too angry. First, there was the business with the unlikable Mrs. Taylor. Why did the woman go out of her way to impute both Freddie and him? Telling Mrs. Farraday that he had been instructing Freddie on the art of dance was no accidental remark. It had been calculated to reveal an unhealthy intimacy between himself and Freddie.

What could be the woman's motivation, other than anger at him for the set-down he had given her? But why did she desire to malign Freddie? He would wager Freddie had never been anything but amiable to her companion. Could it be the wretched woman was jealous of the poor orphan? Why would a woman who had been a debutant, who had seen a good bit of the world, who had been loved by a man, envy a girl who lacked fortune and love and was not even possessed of great beauty?

He had warned Mrs. Taylor that he would dismiss her if she erred in judgment again. But to dismiss her was to make Freddie the brunt of malicious gossip.

The other person rankling him was Edgekirth. And this matter troubled him more gravely than the Mrs. Taylor situation, for it could not be resolved as satisfactorily. Though Stacks despised Edgekirth, he was surprised the doctor would promote so clandestine a courtship with Freddie. After all, Edgekirth had always been noted for his honesty and integrity. Slyly wooing an eighteen-year-old maiden was an act unworthy of an honorable man.

If Freddie was in love with Edgekirth, Stacks had no recourse but to bless the union. But then he would never be able to see her again. The muscle in his jaw tightened at the thought.

The library door slowly opened, and he looked up to see Freddie. She carried that orange cat against her breast. Unlike last night, her breasts were well covered today in a cotton dress that came up to her throat and covered her arms all the way to her wrists. All her bareness of last night was now covered. And Freddie once again looked like a girl. Not the seductress of last night. He pictured her waltzing with the Edgekirth, and his fury grew. He remembered with hostility the hunger that leapt to Edgekirth's eyes when he had placed his arm around Freddie's bare back. And the look of contentment that had washed across Edgekirth's face as he sat next to Freddie during dinner was etched on Stack's memory like a bad dream. He could gladly run his sword cleanly through Edgekirth!

"Good morning, Miss Lambeth," he said. Funny, whenever he thought of her, he thought of her as Freddie, but when he spoke, he addressed her as Miss Lambeth. It was just as well. There were already enough evil things said about him without adding child molestation to the list.

She looked surprised to see him in the library. "My lord! You have not gone to bed?"

"It appears I share your malady."

She came to sit in the chair where she usually sat facing his desk. She began to stroke the soft white fur that grew under Marmalade's neck as the cat curled in her lap, purring contentedly. "There is much too much on my mind for me to possibly sleep."

He sat back in his red leather chair. "You enjoyed yourself last night?"

"Oh yes, my lord. It was a wonderful evening. Thank you for everything."

He watched her intently. He could put it off no longer. He would ask her now about Edgekirth. He really did not want to hear the answer, but he had to know. "Is there anything you have been wanting to tell me, Miss Lambeth?"

Her clear green eyes studied him. She looked nervous. His heart hammered.

"Yes, actually," she said in a hoarse whisper.

She looked to be shaking.

"Come, Miss Lambeth, I won't bite."

She tried to smile, but her lips were stiff. "It's about the late Lady Stacks."

His brows drew together, and he felt the blood drain from his face.

"Some people say you killed her. I would like you to tell me if that is true."

God but she had asked him so earnestly! Leave it to her with her purity and honesty to come to him with the accusations. So trusting and open. Slowly he raised his eyes and looked at her squarely. "I could never murder anyone."

She smiled. A little half smile. "Then I believe you, my lord."

Her faith in him was a heavy burden, indeed. If only he could be worthy of it.

He steepled his hands, still watching her. "Is there nothing else you wish to tell me?" he asked.

Her eyes travelled lazily over his features, and she swallowed. "No," she said shyly.

"Are you not in love with Edgekirth?"

"Of course not!" she shrieked. "Whatever would make you think that?"

"The fact that you danced with him three times, my dear. Did Mrs. Taylor not tell you that is simply not done? Not unless there is an understanding."

"Goodness no!" Freddie said with indignation. "Mrs. Taylor not only neglected to tell me that rule," she said angrily, "but she gave me encouragement to dance the third dance with Dr. Edgekirth."

"And you have never given her any reason to believe that you and the doctor have an understanding?"

"Never," she said loudly and distinctly, an alien harshness in her voice.

Stacks ran his hand through his thick hair. "It seems I need to talk with Mrs. Taylor."

Freddie smiled. "I perceive you would have been an indulgent but firm father." Her voice softened. "Has that ever bothered you--not having children?"

He avoided her gaze. "Yes," he confessed. "I suppose that's why I was delighted to learn Frederick's child was to come live with me."

"And how disappointed you must have been to learn that child was a girl."

"I was not disappointed in your gender but in the fact that because of your gender you would not be able to stay at the abbey." He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Because of your reputation?"

God, but she spoke bluntly. "That. And the fact that it's not proper for an unmarried man and an unmarried maiden to live under the same roof without benefit of a chaperon."

"There you have it!" Freddie said mischievously. "Mrs. Taylor has been good for something, after all."

"You wicked girl," he said playfully. He was concerned Freddie would not feel wanted. "I want you to know that no lad could have been more to my liking than you. It seems we have much in common."

"Thank you, my lord," she said shyly. "It is my good fortune you had no family, though it is regrettable for you. You would have been a wonderful husband and father."

"You see none of my many faults," he said, flipping through papers, trying to keep her from delving so closely into his inner self.

"I should not like to share you with a family, you know," she said frankly, peering earnestly at him.

Marmalade got up, stretched, then trotted toward the window wall and leaped to the window's ledge, where he promptly lay in the warm sunshine.

He watched the cat in order to keep from staring at the precious girl who sat before him. The girl who gripped his heart so thoroughly. The girl he could never hurt.

He forced a cough and got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Mrs. Taylor."

***

He drummed his fingers angrily on the walnut desk in the upstairs drawing room. He had dispatched a letter to his solicitor regarding a replacement for Mrs. Taylor, he'd had Simpson get the coins ready with which to pay Mrs. Taylor and sent Roberts to Morton to determine when the next coach to London would be.

Stacks was far too dissatisfied and too angry to consider keeping the woman any longer, even if dismissing her would harm Freddie's reputation. Perhaps no one need learn of Mrs. Taylor's departure until her replacement came. Except for the
faux pas
last night of dancing thrice with Edgekirth, Freddie's position in society seemed firmly established, Stacks thought with satisfaction. Several men had already come today to leave their cards and posies for her. She was safely launched--provided the vicar's wife did not repeat the tale of him dancing for three weeks with Freddie. He silently implored the lady to hold her tongue.

Wearing her widow's cap, probably because she had no time to arrange her hair, Mrs. Taylor let herself into the upstairs drawing room where Stacks awaited. "You wished to see me?"

"Sit down," he commanded, indicating a chair a few feet from him.

Mrs. Taylor did as bid and looked up at him, fear in her eyes.

He shot her a cold look. "You will recall I warned you of dismissal if there was another breach of propriety on your part."

"But I've done nothing!"

He squared his shoulders and leaned toward her, his voice stern when he spoke. "Twice last night you schemed to place my ward in an unfavorable position."

Her brows plunged together, and her mouth dropped open. "How?"

"First, at supper. Do you not recall," he said icily, "telling Mrs. Farraday that I personally taught Miss Lambeth to dance? As a mature woman, you should know that such an activity might be considered inappropriate in some circles. I, for one, would never have considered instructing my ward had there been time to send to London for a dancing master."

"If you did not want it known that you instructed Miss Lambeth at dance, you should have told me. I am not clairvoyant," she said haughtily.

He gave her a hostile glare. "But you are insolent." He fingered the ruffled cuff he still wore from the night before. "Secondly, you encouraged Miss Lambeth to dance a third dance with Dr. Edgekirth. Do not tell me you did not know the rules of etiquette regarding dance for I specifically hired you because of your background."

Her black eyes flashed with anger. "My, aren't you a fine one to be talking of proper behavior, what with your wicked ways."

He tossed a bag of coins at her. "That will be all! You are paid through the quarter and will leave on the first coach to London."

She rose, her round face contorted with evil. "Oh, I'll leave all right. But I'll tell everyone about you and your little ward. And don't be surprised if her high and mighty uncle doesn't come down on you."

"Madam," he said evenly, the veins at his temple tightening, "you have overstayed your welcome."

Chapter 16

Stacks glanced in the looking glass. "We've done a tolerable job of getting the dirt off me," he told Roberts as the valet grimaced at the muddied boots and put them aside. "It's time I make a fatherly appearance in the drawing room where Miss Lambeth is holding court with her admirers."

"You're not a father, and if you ask me, Miss Freddie Lambeth doesn't wish you to be," the valet said.

Stacks strolled from the dressing room, looking back over his shoulder. "No one asked you." He walked through the great hall and up the stairs to the drawing room, chiding himself every step of the way. Freddie was entertaining callers only because it was his wish to find her a husband to keep her from marrying Edgekirth.

And now Freddie had informed him she had no understanding with the doctor. Why had he not talked to her before jumping his gun? Now, he had expended a great deal of energy and a substantial sum of money to hold a ball to introduce his ward. To make the situation even more unpalatable, he was being forced to leave what he enjoyed most on earth in order to sit in a blasted drawing room and pretend to appreciate the conversation of young bucks and misses barely out of the schoolroom. Yesterday, the squire, newly widowed at age twenty-seven, had called on Freddie. Today it was a slew of Rountrees--John, his curate brother, and three of their sisters.

Added to that were the daily visits of Edgekirth, whose excuses for foisting himself upon Freddie were becoming ridiculous.

As soon as Stacks reached the top of the stairs he heard their laughter. He should be pleased Freddie was mixing with those of her own age. Yet something bothered him. Though she was most amiable when with the others, he always felt her pleasantness was not sincere--unlike the natural gaiety that came so readily when she was playing cards with him and working alongside him in the quadrangle.

It seemed hard to remember how quiet and lonely Marshbanks Abbey was before Freddie came, before each new day opened with excitement and anticipation, each night ending with camaraderie. He and Freddie had grown familiar and comfortable with one another.

Was this how it was with parents and their children? Was it a filial bond between him and Frederick's girl?

"Lord Stacks!" Freddie shrieked as he walked into the room. "How very good of you to come visit with us."

He noted with approval that Maggie sat in a corner of the room, sewing. Freddie had been instructed to tell her acquaintances that Mrs. Taylor had been called away to her aunt's sick bed. Freddie had assured Stacks she preferred Maggie's company to Mrs. Taylor's tenfold. Though not once had Freddie complained about the afternoon sessions with Mrs. Taylor, she now confessed that she had held neither them, nor her companion, in high regard.

On the first afternoon after Mrs. Taylor left, a smiling Freddie confided to her guardian that she felt like a bird released from captivity. His feelings, exactly, though he would be loathe to admit it.

Stacks sat down in a sturdy Tudor chair near Freddie, who was seated on a silk damask sofa.

"You remember Miss Cynthia Rountree and the other sister, Josephine Rountree," she said, indicating the two young blond ladies who shared the sofa with her. He fleetingly wondered if they were twins.

He smiled and greeted them, then Freddie introduced the third sister, Denise, who had dark hair like the brothers she sat between. Stacks greeted them all.