Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(4)

She cocked her head, considering. “You seem as averse to scandal as I. Perhaps, then, a confession? A written statement, signed and sealed, that I could use should the need arise.”

He did not like her tone. But she was wise to demand insurance. His word was not worth much, except when it was, and how was she to know the difference?

“And what, pray tell, would I be confessing to? You cannot publish our affair without condemning yourself, and you have more to lose than I.” He stood to lose a marquessate, but she needn’t know that. “The ton would punish you far more harshly for our dalliance.”

He knew it was the wrong choice of words even before he saw her flinch. But what could he do? That truth was as immutable as the stars in the heavens. Of course he would change things if he could. Had he known she would conceive, he would have married her on the spot and sent her to his family at Haverly before returning to service. But why waste time with regret? Regret changed nothing.

“That won’t do at all,” she said, and he wasn’t sure what she referred to. She regarded him thoughtfully. “Surely I am not the only blemish on your soul. What is your darkest deed? Confess it.”

For a moment he remembered the look of surprise on a dead man’s face—but no. There was plenty else to choose from.

“My darkest deed? I’ll give you ten.” He went to the desk, withdrew a sheet of paper and quill, and dashed off the letter. “There, now. Any one of those deeds would make the ton shudder with horror.” He handed her the paper. She wouldn’t use it, in any case, for he had every intention of marrying her and absolutely no intention of her keeping that damning letter beyond a night.

The pistol quivered. Her arm must be fatigued from holding it up. God help him if her finger slipped…again.

“This will do.” She folded the paper and tucked it into her bodice.

He waited for her censure—number four involved a ballerina—but none came.

Strange woman.

“A month should be enough for a proper courtship, I think. If I have not received a more suitable offer, we will arrange to be married.” She swung her legs as she talked, revealing flashes of ankle.

“Yes,” he said as her ankle disappeared from sight. It would take at least that long for the letters patent to be signed. Ah, but there was her ankle again. “A month is just right, neither too long nor too short.” Her ankle disappeared beneath her skirt. He waited, but there it stayed. He refocused his thoughts. What had she said? “A more suitable offer?”

“Yes.” She sucked her lower lip between her small white teeth. “I will marry for security, but if there is also a chance for happiness, should I not take it? I have witnessed many unhappy marriages and would not wish that misery on anyone—not even you. Certainly not myself.”

He blinked. She thought their marriage would be a misery? That…had not occurred to him. Had they not enjoyed each other’s companionship, as well as their bodies, not so very long ago? Apparently, she felt differently about it. Now.

Back then, she had believed herself in love with him. Though, if she had truly known who he was, she would have run shrieking from his touch. Now she knew. If his treatment of her had not been enough to turn her from him, she had the list of his crimes next to her breast. She would send him away before the ink was dry on their marriage contract. Which was…the one thing he could not allow.

“If I receive a better offer, I will burn the letter and release you from your promise,” Adelaide said. “In the meantime, you will court me for a month and give every indication that you intend to offer for me. If you fail to keep your word, I will publish your confession across all England. Do we have a bargain?”

He looked at her. There was a grim determination in her eyes that reminded him of a seasoned soldier. She was halfway to jaded already; what would she look like after a year of being his wife? He would serve as a daily reminder of all she had lost.

How wretched.

But it was not too late. He had done many terrible things, as the list attested. Now he could do something good. Just once.

He could save her from himself.

“Well?” she pressed. “Do we have an agreement?”

“Yes,” he said.

She wanted a better offer? Very well.

He would get her one.





Chapter Four


A mere quarter hour later, Adelaide found herself wedged between Nick’s hard thighs and the silky mane of a slightly grouchy horse. It was vastly uncomfortable to perch all prim and proper where once she had sat very improperly. The rocking of the horse did not help matters.

He was taking her to Haverly, where the Eastwoods were in residence and her sister, Alice, was a houseguest. With every step the horse took, Adelaide’s trepidation increased.

Still, she could not return home. Her home was at the other end of England, and even if she could make the journey from Hampshire to Northumberland—which she could not, due to a depressing lack of funds—what would await her there? Her family believed her dead. And for good reason. They had sent her to a nunnery in France when she began increasing. After the birth, she couldn’t bear to return home and face their disapproval.

Death had been preferable to ruin.

And so she had died—or allowed her family to believe so, anyway.

Now she was unsure of her welcome. Would they be glad she was alive, even though she no longer had her virtue?