Page 6 of My Wicked Earl
Nick once told Colin that his grandfather knew the secrets of everyone in London.Horriblesecrets. Secrets that would ruin a family. While thetonmay wag their malicious tongues behind the duke’s back, none were foolish enough to incite his wrath or risk his displeasure.
The Duke, his large form towering over the mere mortals who packed his ballroom, looked out from a once handsome face made craggy by old age, lips twisted downward in disapproval. His hand clasped that of a pretty dark-haired woman wearing a gown of midnight blue silk. Tiny diamonds sparkled across the dress, reminding one of stars in the sky, as well as the wealth of the woman who could afford such a garment. The Dunbar jewels, sapphires and diamonds, dripped from her ears and throat.
Lady Cupps-Foster. The Duke’s thrice widowed daughter.
Nick’s aunt, Colin mused, was still a handsome woman in her prime, though there wasn’t a man alive in all of England who would marry her. Not anymore. She’d buried three husbands, all of whom had died prematurely. Nick’s cousins, Lady Cupps-Foster’s two sons, inherited titles from their fathers and were an earl and a baron, respectively. Her last husband, Lord Cupps-Foster, died before an heir could be produced.
Lady Cupps-Foster smiled merrily up at her father with eyes just as blue as his, but where the Duke surveyed all those around him as if inspecting an inadequate supper buffet, hers were warmer. Graciously nodding to her guests, she gave the musicians leave to begin playing and gave her father a stern nod. Lady Cupps-Foster was a force to be reckoned with in the Dunbar family, and indeed in all of London. Her father rarely denied her anything.
The Duke grimaced.
A man, taller than the Duke but with a build so similar none could doubt they were related, sauntered in behind the pair. He surveyed the crowd with odd mismatched eyes, one brown, one azure blue. Nick’s lips twisted in amusement, for he knew the stir his appearance caused, and he gave a mock bow to the room.
Viscount Lindley, the Devil of Dunbar had arrived.
The lords and ladies of thetonmurmured among themselves, pushing back from him as if he were a leper and not the heir to Dunbar. Several ladies opened their fans with a flick of their wrists, hiding their faces behind the painted façade, some flicking their eyes up and down the man’s expensively clad form.
“Finally. Bloody big idiot. Leaving me here to fend for myself when he knows how much I detest it.”
Following behind her brother, chin tilted arrogantly, was Nick’s sister, Lady Arabella. Arabella wore a gown of light rose and matching ribbons threaded through her dark hair. She looked young and sweet until one caught sight of her face, for Arabella wore a perpetual grimace.
Colin had yet to ever see Arabella smile. Humor was not her strong suit.
Arabella tried unsuccessfully to lead her brother to the dance floor, tugging on his sleeve as Nick shook his head.
“The Devil of Dunbar does not dance.” Colin informed the palm. “Only Cam.”
Cam was the dancer.
Would he ever see his friend again?
Regardless of Nick’s determination to retrieve him, if Cam didn’t wish to come back, he wouldn’t. Not unless he were forced.
Colin peered out from his hiding place, searching for the Marquess of Cambourne. He only needed a few moments with Lord Robert, to prevail upon his connection and secure an introduction to Lord Wently.
Pulling at his too tight neckcloth, Colin only succeeded in poking his finger through the thinning silk. Hastily, he twisted the silk so that the hole wouldn’t show.Good God, my clothing is falling apart even as I wear it. If I’m not careful I’ll end up partially naked in the Duke’s ballroom.
Desperation was a horrible feeling. Nick would advance him funds, of course, any amount Colin wished. But then what? How to ever pay it back? Would he spend his life dependent on his friends?
“No. No. No.” He repeated to himself.
Nickassuredhim last night that Lord and Lady Cambourne would be in attendance. Lady Miranda’s debut would insist upon their presence. With so many eligible bachelors hovering about the ballroom, Lady Cambourne would be salivating over the sheer opportunity offered her eldest daughter.
Poor Miranda, who preferred catching frogs to learning deportment, had often trailed her older brother and his friends. Fascinated with stories that Colin told her of the wee folk, she became convinced the woods of Gray Covington were full of fairies and trolls. She could often be found crawling about the woods on her hands and knees, all the better to spy a stray fairy that might be hiding. She had also adored sweets, Colin remembered, particularly raisin cakes, which led her to be a bit chubby.
Lady Cambourne had not cared to have her daughter dirtyorplump. How well Colin remembered her ladyship declaring at an evening meal when Lord Cambourne’s business kept him in London, that Miranda not be served anything but water and boiled turnips. Miranda wasstout, Lady Cambourne decreed in her silken voice as she patted down her wheat-colored coiffure. While Colin, Cam and Lady Cambourne dined on roast, Miranda sat silent in her chair, tears running down her cheeks. When dessert was brought to the table, Lady Cambourne made sure the tray was set directly before her daughter. On the tray lay at least half a dozen freshly baked raisin cakes—Miranda’s favorite.
‘You are a little piglet, Miranda. You already possess an inordinate amount of detriments to your deportment and character without looking like a cow. You’ll see someday that I am doing this for your own good.’
Cam objected, of course, and threatened to tell his father, but Lady Cambourne whispered something in his ear, silencing him.
“Bloody bitch,” Colin hissed out loud. The first time he’d seen her, Colin imagined her to be a fairy princess. Lady Jeanette Cambourne sparkled and shone like the finest diamond. Unfortunately, her ladyship was akin to a perfect, flawless apple, which once bitten into, revealed a rottenness that caused you to fling it away in horror. Her cruelty to Miranda was the least of the woman’s sins. Colin well remembered the discovery of her cuckolding her husband with Gray Covington’s head groom.
The night her ladyship had withheld the raisin cakes from Miranda, Colin had waited until the Marchioness retired to her rooms, then went directly to the kitchens and wrapped half a dozen raisin cakes in a napkin. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, only that Lady Cambourne’s treatment of her daughter reminded him of the Mad Countess.
Unfortunately, his act of kindness held consequences.
Miranda’s round, plump face lit up with a toothless grin and her eyes turned worshipful as she thanked him. The next day she marched up to him, Nick and Cam while they were building a fort and asked Colin to marry her.
