Page 2 of Wickedly Yours
“Should you continue down this path, Arabella, you will never have your brother’s forgiveness, nor Jemma’s.”
“I don’t care—”
“Youshould. The bitterness that has festered for years in your heart finally seeped out and nearlykilledan innocent woman. Do you wish to end your days alone with nothing but your anger to warm you? The honor of the Duke of Dunbar isnotat stake.” Two spots of color appeared on her aunt’s cheeks. “Your parent’s death was a terrible thing, butyourfather pulled the trigger ending his life and that of your mother, not Jemma’s nor any other member of the Lord of Marsh’s family. Nick has promised Lord Marsh that not a whisper of what transpired between Marsh’s younger brother and your father shall ever be heard.”
“Why wouldn’t Nick wish to clear Father’s name? I don’t understand why he wishes to protect the Marsh family from the shame that has haunted ours.”
“Our family’s reputation was infamous long before Jemma’s father arrived to frame yours for treason. More importantly, NicklovesJemma. He will do anything to protect her, even if it means sending his beloved sister to the other side of the world. It’s best you remember that.” Aunt Maisy tugged her forward. “Come. Nick has instructed Peabody to send the family coach to fetch us. We will have to inform Millicent. Poor dear, she had just gotten used to us being at Twinings and now we are to leave. Perhaps I can convince her to visit us in London.”
“Cousin Millicent hasn’t left Wales in forty years. You are bound to be disappointed.” Reluctantly Arabella allowed herself to be dragged forward. She did so desperately wish to go home.
2
Rain dripped down the coach windows as the day turned more gray than usual. The Dunbar coach had arrived exactly on schedule bearing two especially large footmen, a groom and the driver. The footmen Arabella recognized from their original journey to Wales. The young groom was little more than a stable boy named Teddy Mac, an unfortunate lad Nick found picking pockets on the London docks. John, the driver, had driven the duke’s coach for many years. The men, with the exception of Teddy Mac, all bore rather stoic expressions. She couldn’t imagine how dull it was to traipse back and forth to Wales at the whim of the Duke of Dunbar.
Arabella sighed and tucked her feet more firmly against the heated brick beneath her sturdy boots. Warmth wafted pleasurably up her skirts but still she shivered. The journey would take a few days as the coach was in no mad rush to get to London and the weather poor. There would be time to stop and rest the horses, much to Arabella’s relief. Between the damp weather and the condition of the roads, any respite from the coach would be welcome.
Camden, a small town just across the Welsh border was the first stop in their travels. She and Aunt Maisy would spend the night at the Duck and Crow, Camden’s finest inn. Arabella wished desperately for tea and a hot bath.
“I am certain I shall never be warm again.” Her aunt tucked the blanket around her form, shivering as she swaddled herself inside the thick wool.
“Or dry. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate the feel of my damp skirts. Toadstools could fall out at any moment.” She gave her aunt a weak smile.
“Your mood has improved, niece.” She reached across and patted Arabella’s hands. “I am pleased. Nick has put the past aside and you must as well. I know of the difficulties you’ve faced. The Devils of Dunbar have faced our infamy head on. Really, who believes in witches and such in this day and age? The old tales only give thetonsomething more to gossip about.” Aunt Maisy sighed. “But, I was young once too. All the notoriety is much worse for we women and I know the stink of treason has made things challenging. Everyone’s path is fraught with difficulty of some sort. I’ve had my own share.”
Sometimes Arabella forgot Aunty Maisy had enduredmorethan most women her age. Widowed three times, her aunt’s first two husbands perished at young ages, leaving her a young mother with two sons to raise. Spencer Hammond, Baron Kelso was Arabella’s eldest cousin. Spence was currently in India doing…something. Arabella was never clear on exactly what Spence involved himself in other than she had a vague notion he worked for the government in some capacity. Brendan, the Earl of Morwick was Aunt Maisy’s other son, as wild and mysterious as the moors from which he hailed in the Dark Peak district of England. Unfortunately, Brendan’s father disappeared while hunting shortly after his son’s birth. It was assumed that the previous Earl of Morwick had fallen into one of the numerous caves that dotted the moors and perished. Aunt Maisy waited seven long years before he was declared dead. Brendan rarely traveled to London. Lord Cupps-Foster, Aunt Maisy’s last husband produced no issue. He died a week after the wedding. Though she was still beautiful and enormously wealthy, no man in his right mind would court Aunt Maisy.Cursed, thetonclaimed.
“I forget sometimes, aunt, that you have survived much and yet still smile.”
“Your heart loves where it wishes, even if that love is not perfect. Proper. Expected.” Aunt Maisy’s eyes grew shadowed. “Your brother has found that which he cannot live without. You will understand one day.”
The coach bounced, springs creaking as they rounded a bend in the road and slowed, finally coming to a halt.
Arabella peeked out the window. Another coach blocked the road to Camden. Smaller and shabbier than the Dunbar coach, it nonetheless was large enough so that they could not go around. “The road is blocked with another vehicle. I see no passengers outside and the coach bears no crest. Perhaps it is a mail coach bound for London.”
Aunt Maisy’s brow wrinkled. “I do hope you’re correct, although I’m thankful we’ve these two strapping footmen at our disposal. I did wonder what Peabody was thinking when I first spied them since both men are a bit rough looking to be in service.”
Arabella didn’t answer. She found neither footman to be someone Peabody would hire unless her brother Nick instructed the butler to do so for both were large and muscular with the build of pugilists. And neither wore the Dunbar livery well, something Peabody was a stickler for.
Seagraves, the larger of the two was exceedingly polite, though his manners were a bit rough. He had taken especially good care of Aunt Maisy since leaving Twinings, asking several times if she was comfortable or if he could fetch her another blanket. The attitude of the other footman, Barker, left much to be desired. Barely civil, his insolent gaze had followed Arabella’s every move as she settled herself for the journey. As soon as she and Aunt Maisy arrived in London, Arabella planned to tell Peabody to fire the man.
The coach door opened revealing the red-cheeked face of John, their driver.
“John,” Aunt Maisy greeted him. “Is there no way around?”
“No, my lady. The coach appears abandoned for I see no driver or any passengers. Perhaps they’ve walked to Camden for help, though the horses appear to be fine.” A look of worry entered his eyes. “I’m sure it’s nothing, my lady, but I’ll have Seagraves and Barker move the coach off the road while I inspect the vehicle for damage. Teddy Mac will stay here with you and the horses.” He bowed. “Camden is only another hour and we’ll be there well before nightfall.”
“Very good.” Her aunt sat back with a plop. “I long to be out of this coach and before a fire.”
John closed the coach door and Arabella could hear him speaking to Seagraves and Barker.
“I agree.” The chill and dampness had sunk into Arabella’s bones and she longed to be before a warm hearth where she could discreetly lift her skirts.
A violent lurch rocked the coach. One of the horses shrieked in fright. John called for Teddy Mac just before a large thud sounded as if a body hit the muddy road.
Arabella met Aunt Maisy’s horrified eyes.
“Surely,” her aunt whispered, “no one woulddarerob the coach of the Duke of Dunbar. It’s unheard of.” Boots crunched outside and moved closer to the coach.
