Too Wicked to Love (2 page)

“Leave off, Samuel,” John said, heading for the door. “You’re not my captain any longer. Or my employer for that matter since you no longer need a coachman.”

“Then what the hell am I?”

John stopped with his hand on the doorknob and met Samuel’s gaze. “My one true friend.”

The anger fled Samuel’s expression like steam escaping a boiling pot. “I just want to help you,” he said.

“I know. But some things are better left alone.”

Samuel nodded. “All right. Thank you for protecting Annabelle while we’re gone.”

“You are welcome.” John opened the door.

“If it helps,” Samuel said, making John pause at his words, “the Baileys intend to leave London for Nevarton Chase tomorrow. So you’ll be out of the city and sequestered in happy obscurity in the country.”

“Good news indeed.” John hesitated, then said, “Be happy Samuel. Enough for both of us.”

He left the study, shutting the door before his friend could respond.

Genny jerked free of Bradley’s hold and backed up a step, shaking off the nostalgia of the past. Bradley Overton did not like to lose, and she had bested him by breaking off their courtship last year. And as for the last time they had been alone together. . .

She preferred not to relive the crowning jewel of her humiliation. That was the past. She was a different woman now. “Let me pass, Bradley. My parents will be missing me.”

Bradley did not budge, his gaze intent like a spider with its prey. “Come now, Genny. Let’s not part in anger.”

“Too late for that.” She tried to pass him again, but this time when he reached for her, she snatched up one of her mother’s cherub figurines from a nearby table and raised it like a weapon. “Touch me again, and your head will be ringing for weeks.”

He slowly drew back his hand. “I suppose you are still overset about what happened between us.”

“Overset!” Her voice ended on a squeak of outrage, and she forced herself to take a breath. “I am not overset. Overset would indicate that I cared anything for you or what you think. And that is just not true.”

“Then why did you just threaten me with Cupid?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Perhaps you have heard my name recently linked with Miss Fitzwarren’s?”

“Certainly not.”

“Maybe you are jealous. I know she is your friend.”

“Hardly jealous,” Genny said, “but perhaps I should warn her of your talent for spinning falsehoods.”

“The rumors are not true, you know. You are the only woman I have ever wanted to wed.”

The knowledge that such an utterance would once have filled her heart with joy only added to the bitter taste of shame at her own naïveté. How could she have been so easily fooled by a charismatic smile and a few well-chosen words? Was she truly so gullible? So hungry for someone to love her that she would accept even this sham of the real thing?

“Do you miss us, what we had?” He lowered his voice as he came closer, backing her into the corner between the door and the table. The scent of the cigars he favored filled the air between them. “I cannot forget, Genny, not any of it.”

“I already have,” she lied.

Anger flared in his eyes, and he grabbed her free arm, hauling her against him. “Now who is ‘spinning falsehoods’?”

She swung the Cupid at his head, but he caught her wrist and squeezed. The figurine crashed to the floor.

The door opened. Genny closed her eyes for a moment and imagined how it looked—her caught in a man’s arms, however unwillingly—and anticipated the social doom that was about to descend.

“Miss Wallington-Willis,” a male voice said, “they are preparing to cut the cake.”

She opened her eyes and found John Ready standing in the doorway like calmness personified. Tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and bearded, his very stillness should have acted as balm to her fractured composure, but those enigmatic eyes had always given her the impression they saw more than she would have liked. At that moment, his steady gaze fell on Bradley, who suddenly released her and stepped back, as if commanded by John’s look alone.

She could not help but be impressed by this silent show of male power. John Ready was a mystery. He worked as a coachman but talked like a gentleman and held an odd place in Samuel’s household, more friend than employee. And had it been anyone else who had walked through that door, she would have been effusive in expressing her thanks. Yet all she could think as she moved away from her former suitor was
why did it have to be
him
who stumbled upon them
?

“Thank you, Mr. Ready,” she said, seeking comfort in protocol.

He swung that unwavering, condemning gaze on her, chilling the warmth of any gratitude she harbored.

“I will escort you back to the ballroom,” John said.

Censure underscored the words, and she stiffened, stung by his quick judgment. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She arched her eyebrows at Bradley, who stepped aside so she could join John at the door.

John swept his arm toward the hallway.

She eased past him, so close that the tang of his cologne tingled her senses, her skirts brushing against his long legs. Dear Lord, she had never realized how very
tall
he was!

Bradley apparently realized he had lost control of the situation. “Hold a moment! I said hold, Mister . . . er—”

John stopped in the doorway and looked back at Bradley. “Do not leave this room for five minutes. There will be no scandal at this wedding.”

Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but one hard look from John had him closing it again and nodding.

John shut the door behind them as he and Genny left the sitting room.

“Your timing was excellent,” Genny murmured, as John guided her back toward the reception.

“I did this for your sister,” John said. “She does not deserve the scandal that would result if it got out her sister was consorting with a lover during her wedding breakfast.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You are quite blunt, Mr. Ready.”

“I just try to tell the truth.”

“Then add this to your truth: I have no lover.”

He slanted her an unreadable look. “Based on what I just witnessed, I find that hard to believe.”

“Try,” she gritted through her teeth.

“If that young man was not your lover, then why did I find you in his arms? Why did you not cry out for help?”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “When you say it like that, it certainly sounds terrible. I was hiding
from
Bradley, not
with
him. He followed me.”

“Perhaps it was prearranged.”

She bit back a rude retort and tried for a reasonable tone. “I was almost engaged to Bradley, but our association ended last season. However, he apparently has not accepted our parting as well as I thought.”

John stopped. “Is he making a nuisance of himself? “

She halted as well, noting the warning tone of his voice, the tension of his stance. Here stood a man ready for battle. A tingle swept through her. Clearly, if he thought Bradley was bothering her, he would do something about it. Part of her wished she could allow him to defend her honor, but it would only make matters worse.

She was wise enough now to handle her own problems. And she had no desire to be indebted to
him,
of all people. Not with his obviously poor opinion of her.

“I have not seen him in nearly a year, and I did not know he was going to be here today. No one told me.” She pressed her lips together, still angry at the oversight.

“I apologize for my conclusions. I thought this was an assignation.” He cast a narrow-eyed gaze down the hall. “I will go back and have a word with him.”

“No.” She grabbed his arm, then dropped her hand when he raised his brows. “As I said, I have not seen him in over a year. I do not understand what he wants from me when our association has clearly ended.”

John gave a hard chuckle and smoothed his sleeve. “He wants what every man wants.”

She cast him a sharp glance. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean, Miss Wallington-Willis.” He gave her a quick assessment from head to toe that made her breath catch. She was still trying to calm her racing heart when he placed her hand on his arm and led her to the doors to the ballroom. “You are a beautiful woman, but you cannot play with men’s hearts like toys. One day you will flirt with the wrong gentleman and discover you have bitten off more than you can chew.”

Genny stiffened, her cordial feelings toward him evaporating. “Are you saying I somehow gave Bradley the impression his attentions would be welcome?”

“Men are easily dazzled by beautiful women. Perhaps you should be more conservative in your behavior toward the male sex.”

She jerked her hand away from his arm. “You are very rude, John Ready. How dare you accuse me of being a . . . a . . .”

“A flirt? Fast?”

“And now you insult me. Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr. Ready, but I believe I can see myself back to the festivities.” She turned on her heel and marched back into the ballroom.

John watched her go, a hint of her scent lingering in her wake. She was a handful, that one. Beautiful and spirited. At least he would soon be leaving for Nevarton Chase with the Baileys to watch over Annabelle. He would no longer have to associate with—or fight his attraction to—the distracting Genny Wallington-Willis.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want a woman in his life. Quite the contrary. But not someone like Genny. Not a woman with connections to the very life he’d abandoned, especially a flirt who appeared oblivious to the broken hearts she left in her wake.

He could not help but wonder, had she been telling the truth about the young naval officer, or had she said that because she had been caught? If the fellow’s attentions had truly been unwelcome, why hadn’t she let John have a word with him?

The entire situation brought back old memories he had managed to keep at bay until then. He knew well the games these coquettes played, and Genny Wallington-Willis seemed no different than any other. Better for all of them if he kept his distance from her and focused on what was important.

With Samuel married to Cilla and Raventhorpe in retreat for the moment, he felt he was ready, for the first time in years, to pursue his own goals—but not in England. He would claim his half of the fortune he had discovered with Samuel and start a new life in America. He could have a wife, children. A home. Everything he had always dreamed about.

No one was ever going to take that away from him again.

“Oh, John, here you are.”

He glanced down, surprised to see that the new Mrs. Breedlove had approached while he was watching her sister and was now standing in the doorway in front of him. The petite brunette looked stunning in white silk and lace with a wreath of orange blossoms in her dark hair. She smiled, and he caught the flash of a quick dimple in the corner of her mouth, a trait she shared with her sister, Genny.

He gave a brief bow. “How may I be of service, Mrs. Breedlove?”

She laughed. “Do be certain to call me that a few more times, John, so I can become accustomed to it!” She stepped out into the hall with him and waved her hand to indicate he should join her out of sight of the doorway.

He followed her, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

“I only have a moment. We are getting ready to cut the cake, and once that happens, Samuel and I will be rushing off on our honeymoon. So this is the only time I can approach you to ask a terribly important favor.”

“Of course. Anything I can do.”

She clasped her hands together, her brown eyes full of apprehension. “I feel somewhat selfish asking this of you. After all, we are not family, though I know Samuel considers you closer than a brother. That would make you akin to my brother-in-law, correct? Family. And I am just so worried about her, John. Someone needs to look out for her while I am gone.”

“Is this about—”

“She is just so young, John,” Cilla plowed on, “and she thinks she knows the ways of the world, but she does not. I have tried to talk to her, but we have all been at sixes and sevens over the wedding preparations.”

“I know. Samuel already—”

“She is just so headstrong. So certain she knows how things work. But that is just not true, even if she refuses to believe it. And I simply cannot go off to my wedding trip without making certain someone will be watching over her, especially way off in the country at Nevarton Chase. She could get into all sorts of mischief there.”

“Mrs. Breedlove.” John held up a hand when she paused for breath. “Have no fear. I have already discussed this with Samuel.”

“You have?” She beamed, relief lighting her eyes. “I did not even share my concerns with him.”

“He thought of it himself.”

“Dear God, I have married the best man in the world.” She clapped her hands together. “Except for you, of course, John.”

“Of course, except for me.” He grinned.

“I cannot thank you enough!” A servant came into the hallway, caught her eye, and waved her back toward the ballroom. “I must go. You must have some cake, John. Say that you will.”

“I will.”

“Wonderful.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much, John. I cannot tell you how much easier I will rest knowing that you are looking out for my sister.” She turned and hurried toward the ballroom.

Sister? Not Miss Bailey?

“What . . . wait! I am to leave with the Baileys for Nevarton Chase right after the wedding.”

“Yes, I know.” She flashed him an impossibly happy smile. “Genny is going, too. They are having a house party.” She gave him a little wave as the servant hustled her back into the ballroom, leaving him alone in the hallway.

“Ah, hell.”

Miles away, in the small village of Elford-by-the-Sea, the Reverend Father Cornelius Holm crossed off the next item on his list. That was the last of the locations in London. Now he would begin searching the places outside the city. But not this week. No, his tiny parish needed him. There had been three deaths and one birth. Funerals and christenings. His task would have to wait until next week, when he had more time.