Page 15 of Wicked Again
Simon had not a principled bone in his body. Nor had his father, John. It was a pity John wasn’t still alive. Had he been, Marissa would have cheerfully shot him herself and left him in a hole to die.
ThegreatViscount Pendleton. Who knewallabout his parent’s sins and didnothing. Treating Brendan with disdain whilestealingfrom him. Marissa would enjoy destroying Simon’s brilliant political career and making him the most impoverished politician in Parliament. The shock of being poor might even kill Lydia. Or she’d become an even bigger sot than she already was.
I am remarkably bloodthirsty.
“Pendleton will need to marry an heiress if he wishes to dig himself out of debt,” Arabella mused. “One who is a paragon of virtue with not so much as a whiff of scandal attached to her skirts, and whose connections can help him politically. There’s a limited supply of such girls circulating about.” Arabella bit into another biscuit. “Of course, we cannot allow such a marriage to happen.”
“Absolutelynot. Lydia needs to be reduced to someone’s poor relation living in a mud cottage somewhere.” Arabellawouldbe an asset to Marissa’s plans. “If you are determined to help me, you must not allow Rowan to know. Or any of them.” She waved her hand. “Nick, Spencer or Brendan.” She named her sons and nephew. “I do not want or need their help.” Marissa reached for her cup again. “My father taught me well enough.”
Arabella’s dark eyes flashed at Marissa in triumph. “I won’t. I promise.”
A sharp rap at the door interrupted any further discussion. Her butler, Greenhouse, stiff and priggish, marched in bearing an embossed card upon a silver platter. “My lady.” He lowered the tray so she could read her caller’s card.
The cup of tea paused on its way to Marissa’s lips.
Haddon.
He had said he wanted to speak to her and had asked to call, but that had been over a week ago. She’d assumed he’d changed his mind. Marissa cast a look at her niece. It was bloody inconvenient he’d decided on today to visit. Her niece was far too intuitive for Marissa’s tastes.
Pulse fluttering madly at the knowledge Haddon lay right outside the drawing room door, she gave a subtle nod to Greenhouse.
Arabella gave her a curious glance. “Aunt Maisy?”
Her niece waved Greenhouse over to her before Marissa could stop her. She picked up the card, eyes widening.
Apparently, Brendanhaddisclosed other, far more personal things to Arabella, if her niece’s reaction was any indication.
“Please show in Lord Haddon,” Marissa managed to say.
Greenhouse bowed and left the room.
“He’s the gentleman from the Peak District,” Arabella said in a low tone. “The one who you had—”
Marissa shot her a firm look, cutting off the rest of Arabella's sentence. A word would be needed with Brendan. He didn’t need to go about tellingeveryoneof her personal business or, in this case, gossiping about such things with Arabella. She was entitled to some privacy in regard to her personal life, as sparse as it was, though her niece didn’t appear to be especially horrified at the thought of Marissa having had a lover.
Dalliance, she corrected herself.
Inclining her head in Arabella’s direction, Marissa said, “Not another word, or I shan’t allow you to help me.”
Her niece sat back, lips tightly shut.
“Lord Haddon,” Greenhouse announced, swinging open the door.
The air shifted in the drawing room as it does during a storm, just before lightning strikes.
Haddon stepped inside, his male presence immediately at odds with the delicate feminine décor of Marissa’s drawing room. A wicked half-smile tilted his lips as he paused at the doorway, completely assured of his welcome. Dark hair lay tousled about his ears and a touch of pink lit his high cheekbones from the cooler air outside.
How dare he appear before her looking so ...delicious.
“Oh, Auntie,” Arabella said under her breath as she took in Haddon. “Good Lord.”
“Lady Cupps-Foster.” Haddon’s gaze was focused on her mouth as he greeted her. “I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.” A thick wave of hair fell against his forehead as he came forward to take her hand.
“Not at all.” The light brush of his lips against her knuckles was enough to turn the entire lower half of her body to jelly. “I hadn’t expected you to appear today.”
“My apologies. And here I thought you’d take me to task for my delay in calling upon you.”
Arabella watched the exchange with interest, pretending to nibble at her biscuit.
