Page 44 of Wicked Again
“If youthinkyou’ve somehow outsmarted me, Marissa,think again.” The brandy on Lydia’s breath was sharp. “No court in London will entertain your ridiculous request that we repay the proceeds of the Blue John mine dating back over twenty years, especially since you can’t prove the mine evenbelongsto the Earl of Morwick.” Lydia gave a flutter of her beringed hands. “All you have is an old survey which is likely a forgery.”
“If you feel that way, Lydia, one wonders why you would have bothered to murder my husband all those years ago.”
Lydia’s left eye twitched. “Hearsay,” she hissed, the brandy fumes floating out in a cloud. “You’ve not a shred of proof save a private conversation overheard by sometartyour worthless son married.”
“Thattartis now the Countess of Morwick,” Marissa reminded her. “She outranks you.”
“Sour grapes. She’d say anything to hurt Simon after he had to end their betrothal. What else was Simon to do? Especially after she debased herself with your son. No one will believe her. I can’t wait to drag her reputation through the mud now that I’m in town.”
“But Simon gave his word.” Marissa blinked, wide-eyed. “I can’t imagine. Your son is so incredibly honorable.” A snarl flitted about her lips. “Like his father.”
Lydia flinched. “You can donothingto us. I won’t stand for yournonsenseanother minute, Marissa. I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish with your little stunt. My husband has been dead for years, and you’ve no proof. The entire case will be thrown out of court.”
Marissa nodded as if agreeing. “Perhaps. Ormaybe,” she moved closer to Lydia, “I’ll drag this dispute out foryears. I’ve scores of solicitors who’d like nothing more than to waste mysubstantial fortuneon such things. Whereasyoucan ill afford a lengthy court battle if the rapid pace at which you are selling off your valuables is any indication. Goodness, next you’ll be prying the Blue John from the fireplaces of Brushbriar.” She shook her head. “You should have told me, Lydia. I would have happily bought up the entire lot.”
“You—” Lydia’s eyes bulged dangerously again.
“Have the resources of my very powerful,wealthyfamily at my back. You always seem to forget I started life as the daughter of a duke,” Marissa said with false disbelief.
“An infamous one. Your family isreviledin London.”
“I prefer respected.Feared.” Marissa’s voice hardened. “And with good reason. You’d do well to remember that, Lydia.”
Lydia faltered slightly, her slender figure wavering as if buffeted by the wind. Spittle formed at the corner of her mouth as the scent of brandy and breath mints filled the air above her. “Is that your game, Marissa? Will you hide behind your nephew and hope to frighten me?”
Marissa shrugged. “Frighten you?Perish the thought. I’ve better things to do. By the way, howisyour daughter’s pursuit of Mr. Kendicott progressing?”
Lydia paled until she resembled a bowl of day-old, curdled cream.
“Ohdear.” Marissa made a tutting sound. “Are you feeling well, Lydia? You look as if you could use a glass of brandy. I’m sure you assumed you could sneak a nip into your tea today, perhaps when Lady Higgins turns her back. Or are you planning to disappear for a moment to...collect yourself?” She nodded to the stylish reticule hanging from Lydia’s wrist. “Is there a tiny flask in there? You should be very discreet.” Marissa lowered her voice. “I understand Sir Richard is a teetotaler.”
“How dare you,” Lydia snarled.
“I’m onlyconcernedas your former neighbor. Miss Higgins possesses anenormousdowry which you are indireneed of. Dear Lord, I hope nothing happens to scare her away as it did Kendicott.” A small laugh bubbled up. “I mean by something other thanyou, Lydia. I bid you good day, Lady Pendleton. I’msurewe’ll see each other again.”
Lydia’s eyes narrowed to slits, glittering with unrestrained malice. Had she a gun handy and a cave nearby, there wasn’t a doubt Marissa would be treated to the same fate Reggie had suffered.
But as Lydia was doubtless finding out, Marissa was possessed of the same malice and rage.
Lydia and her childrendeservedto live the remainder of their days in utter ruin. She felt not the least bit of guilt in destroying all of them.
Miss Higgins was overly absorbed in plucking a string from her skirts as Lady Higgins and Arabella conversed. The pitiable girl looked as if she wished to be anywhere but here. And who could blame her? Spending the day with Lydia had to be excruciating. Did Miss Higgins bear Simon any affection? Or was she only doing her duty?
Marissa thought the latter. Simon was a cold fish, much like his mother.
Arabella, finally running out of things to say about the opera, led Lady Higgins back to where Marissa and Lydia stood, Lady Higgins hanging on her niece’s every word.
“Lady Higgins, I fear I’ve taken you away from your guest. What poor manners I have. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Arabella took Lady Higgins’s hand. “But I’vesoenjoyed our conversation. You and your daughtermustcome for tea soon. We’ve so much more to discuss. And to find out our husbands are already well acquainted.” Arabella shook her head. “Malden is so forgetful. He never mentioned such a thing to me.”
Lady Higgins twittered, obviously overjoyed to be invited to call on Arabella. “It would be our great pleasure, Lady Malden. Wouldn’t it, Clare?”
Miss Higgins nodded. “Delightful, Lady Malden.” Her glance flitted up to regard Arabella as if she were some exotic creature.
The brackets around Lydia’s mouth deepened further; she likely couldn’t bear the thought of Arabella pouring tea with the girl she’d selected for her precious son. Marissa could practically smell the fear rolling off Lydia in waves. One of Lydia’s gloved hands disappeared inside the reticule dangling from her wrist.
“Come, Aunt.” Arabella took Marissa’s arm. “There’s someone I wish to introduce you to. Good day to you Lady Higgins. Miss Higgins.”
Arabella pointedly ignored Lydia, but Lady Higgins was far too enamored of becoming a close friend of the sister of a duke to notice. Marissa’s niece had learned well how to be charming and inviting to others, a stark contrast to the sour, staid woman she’d been before her marriage to Rowan. What a change love had wrought in Arabella.
