Simply Wicked

3

“You did what?”

Marguerite Lockwood swung around to face her siblings who sat together on the small blue chaise longue in her shadowed drawing room.

“We asked Lord Anthony Sokorvsky to squire you around town.” Lisette tried to look innocent. “Why are you so upset?”

“Because . . .” Marguerite spread her hands wide to express her inability to know where to start. “I don’t need you interfering in my life.”

“You do.” Christian stood up and towered over her. “You’ve been holed up here like a fox avoiding the hounds for almost two years. Isn’t it time you got on with your life?”

Marguerite narrowed her eyes and glared at them. The twins’ self-composure continued to surprise and irritate her. Sometimes she felt as if she were the baby of the family.

“I am quite happy as I am. I enjoy every luxury. I don’t have to worry about paying the rent . . .”

“You never go out.”

Marguerite frowned at her brother. “Of course I go out. I haven’t become a hermit!”

“All right, you never go out with a man.”

“I’m a widow.”

“Whose first marriage lasted barely a month.”

Marguerite clenched her fists so hard her fingernails bit into her flesh. “Why are you being so cruel, Christian?”

He shrugged. “Because we’ve tried everything else and nothing has worked. You hardly ever even lose your temper anymore. We’re all worried about you.”

“A fine way to show you are worried by picking at me.” Marguerite returned to her seat opposite the twins and glared at them.

Christian sighed as he too sat down. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I just want you to go out and enjoy yourself a bit more.”

“With a man I’ve never met?”

“Anthony Sokorvsky is the second son of the Marquis of Stratham and a frequent guest at the pleasure house. He is perfectly respectable.”

“And his presence at the pleasure house is supposed to recommend him to me?”

“Your husband visited Maman’s establishment, and you liked him well enough.”

Marguerite forced herself to ignore that unwelcome reminder and concentrate on the problem at hand. “And why would this Anthony Sokorvsky agree to escort me anyway? Is there something wrong with him?”

“Of course not. Like most young men, he is merely trying to avoid the matchmaking mothers. If he seems to be devoted to you, he hopes they will leave him alone.”

Marguerite stared hard at Christian, aware that he wasn’t quite telling her the truth, but as usual with her wily brother, she was unable to decipher exactly which part was the lie. She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back.

“I still don’t want to go out.”

“Marguerite . . .”

She scowled at them both. “I don’t have to do anything you tell me to.” Now she sounded like they were back in the nursery. “I’m an independent woman.”

“Who never has any fun.”

“I’ll leave that to you two.”

Lisette smiled and reached across to pat Marguerite’s knee. “We just want you to be happy. Will you at least agree to meet him? If you hate him, I promise we’ll stop bothering you.”

Marguerite shrugged off Lisette’s gentle touch. “All right, I’ll meet him if it means you two will stop nagging me.”

“Absolutely.” Christian bowed and turned to help Lisette up. “We’ll bring him for tea today at four.”

Marguerite watched the twins leave, their satisfaction evident on their smiling faces. Silence descended over the house as the front door shut and she was alone again. She smoothed the folds of her lavender gown. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was time for her to stop hiding.

With an abrupt movement, she left the drawing room and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. The miniature of Justin that his mother had reluctantly given her sat on a table beside her four-poster bed. She sat on the quilted cover and picked up the gold frame, scrutinized his ordinary features, the smile in his brown eyes and the subtle curve of his mouth. She touched the cold glass with a fingertip and then set the miniature on the pillow.

It was becoming harder to remember what Justin had really been like. His warmth, his beauty, the feel of him naked in her arms, moving over her, inside her. Marguerite shuddered as she contemplated her perfectly made bed. So cold now, so lonely after experiencing a man’s love.

Maman had tactfully suggested Marguerite take advantage of the joys offered at the pleasure house. At first, she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another man touching her or even watching anyone else enjoy what she could not. Now . . . she felt as empty as a dried-up lake. She stared at the frozen image of her husband. Would Justin understand that? Would he want her to be happy again?

She snatched up the portrait and kissed it, then she laughed at her own stupidity. Perhaps she was a little bored, but there was no need for such anxiety yet. She’d only agreed to meet Lord Anthony Sokorvsky, not go to bed with him. In a swirl of petticoats, she got up and hurried to find her bonnet and pelisse.

A long-overdue visit to her mama-in-law would remind her of where her true loyalties lay and seemed an excellent way to fill the time before she had to return for tea.

“Marguerite, my dear, do sit down.”

To Marguerite’s surprise, Lady Lockwood almost looked pleased to see her. She’d expected a scolding, or at least a show of indifference because of her recent neglect. She settled herself into a chair opposite her mama-in-law and mentally reviewed a list of excuses as to why she hadn’t bothered to come and visit.

If she were honest, she’d admit that Lady Lockwood had never made her welcome, had, in truth, tried to deny that her marriage to Justin was legal. If it hadn’t been for Maman and her powerful friends, Marguerite wouldn’t have received even the reluctant recognition she had achieved or the financial compensation necessary to live like the widow of a wealthy husband.

“Have you come to celebrate with us?”

Marguerite smiled automatically as Lady Lockwood handed her a cup of tea. “Celebrate what?”

Color flooded Lady Lockwood’s cheeks. “Oh, I do apologize. I thought you must have heard the news about Charles and Amelia.”

“Your son, Charles?”

“Indeed.” Lady Lockwood smiled even more brilliantly. “He and Amelia are expecting a child!”

Even as her stomach tightened, Marguerite schooled her features into an expression of delight. “That is wonderful news. You will have your first grandchild.”

As Lady Lockwood continued to chatter, Marguerite struggled with a series of emotions she hadn’t expected. Justin had been the oldest son, the one expected to inherit the title, to provide the heir, to take on the family responsibilities. And as his wife, those responsibilities would’ve been hers as well.

Did she want a child? Was she jealous? It seemed that she was. As she continued to listen to Lady Lockwood, Marguerite realized that not only was she losing sight of Justin, but that it seemed his family was as well. His younger brother would succeed to all his titles, give his parents their first grandchild and slowly but surely eclipse Justin until he was just a memory.

And it was all her fault.

After the obligatory twenty minutes, Marguerite stood up, kissed Lady Lockwood on the cheek and headed slowly down the wide staircase. Now she understood why her mama-in-law had treated her so kindly. She had become as unnecessary as her deceased husband, with no further part to play in the Lockwood dynastic ambitions. With a child on the way, it seemed that even the old resentments could be let go.

As she emerged from the grand mansion, a light drizzle caught at her face and made her blink. Did that make her obligation to remember and honor Justin less valid? No, she would never forget him. But perhaps it gave her the opportunity to move on without the oppressive weight of the Lockwood family’s ruined expectations on her shoulders.

She nodded to the driver and stepped into the cab. Maybe her meeting with Lord Anthony Sokorvsky would be more interesting than she’d thought.

By the time the dainty clock on her mantelpiece chimed four times, Marguerite’s nerves had not only returned but multiplied. Why exactly had she let the twins tell her what to do again? She couldn’t understand it. Somehow they seemed to undermine her defenses without even trying. She smoothed down the silk skirts of her favorite blue dress and walked back to the window.

A carriage had appeared outside. She recognized Christian’s fair head as he removed his hat and stepped through the front door. Another unknown man followed him in. Mon Dieu. What on earth was she doing even contemplating going out into society again? She hurried to sit by the fire and picked up her embroidery.

The twins entered without ceremony, followed by a tall man fashionably attired in a chestnut brown coat, black breeches and shining top boots. His cravat was neither too modish nor too plain; his black hair was short and showed a tendency to curl at the ends.

“Good afternoon, Marguerite. Are you embroidering? I thought you hated sewing.” Lisette gestured at the man beside her. “Look, we’ve brought him!”

Lisette’s playful remark made Marguerite wince. She stuffed her embroidery down the side of her chair and looked up into the dark blue eyes of Lord Anthony Sokorvsky. She realized he was as embarrassed as she was. With a slight frown at Lisette, she got to her feet and held out her hand.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

He bowed, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Good afternoon, my lady. I hope you are having a pleasant day?”

His voice was low and held a hint of laughter. Was he amused by her? Was this whole thing a big joke? She motioned him to the seat opposite her and he sat down, stretching his long legs out toward the fire.

Lisette took a seat on the couch and then immediately jumped up.

“Shall I ring for some tea?”

“Why not? You treat this place as if it’s your house anyway.” Marguerite continued to smile through her teeth as Lisette laughed at her.

“Your siblings seem to have the ability to bamboozle us poor mortals into doing whatever they want.”

Marguerite glanced across at Lord Anthony as he spoke.

“You’ve noticed that, have you?”

“Yes, I suspect that’s the main reason I find myself here today.”

Heat rose in Marguerite’s cheeks. “There is no need for you to be here at all. You are quite free to leave.”

He smiled and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. It is just entertaining to see the twins having the same effect on someone else as they do on me.”

Goodness, he was attractive when he smiled: his generous mouth relaxed, and his blue eyes lit with humor and warmth. Why would a man who looked like that be willing to squire her around town?

Christian cleared his throat. “Lisette and I have to go. We have another appointment.” He looked at Lord Anthony. “Will you be all right to get back to your home?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Christian bowed and took Lisette’s hand. “We’ll come and see you tomorrow, Marguerite!”

When the door slammed behind the twins, Marguerite sighed. As a widow, was it appropriate for her to entertain a single man alone? She suspected her mama-in-law would disapprove. Should she call her reluctant chaperone down from her room?

“Can I help you with something?”

Lord Anthony was staring at her, a quizzical smile on his lips. She subsided back into her chair.

“I was just wondering about the propriety of your visit. Are widows allowed to entertain unmarried men at home?”

“Allowed? I should imagine they are encouraged to do so.”

She blinked at him. “Are you jesting, sir?”

“Of course I am.” He sat forward, hands clasped together. “At least the twins’ unconventional behavior has allowed us to move on from the dreary boundaries of polite conversation and actually get to know each other a little.”

Marguerite gave a reluctant laugh. “I suppose that’s true. They are annoying, aren’t they?” She hesitated, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You can leave if you want to. I won’t be offended.”

He smiled. “If I swear that I have no intention of leaping across the room and dishonoring you, may I stay for tea?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you intrigue me.”

She shrugged. “I’m not worthy of such interest, sir.”

“I think you are. Why would a woman as beautiful as you need an escort for the Season?”

“I don’t need an escort.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what the twins told me, and you did agree to this meeting.”

“I agreed to it to stop them bothering me, surely you can understand that.”

He frowned. “Of course I can, but it doesn’t explain why I’ve never met you before, why you don’t go out into society.”

“I doubt you frequent ton parties, my lord. Apparently you would be besieged by matchmaking mothers. How would you know if you’d met me?”

He held her gaze. “Because you are beautiful?”

“That is a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Why? Because you don’t think you are?” He smiled. “Surely beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Then you obviously need spectacles.”

His smile widened. “My eyesight is considered superior, madame, and you are blushing.”

Marguerite was saved from answering by the arrival of the tea tray. She busied herself setting things out, her mind awhirl. When had she last had such an improper and improbable conversation with a man? Never, was the answer. Lord Anthony was certainly different.

Anthony waited as Marguerite fussed over the tea cups and saucers. He didn’t mind. It gave him the opportunity to observe her high cheekbones, huge dark eyes and cupid’s bow mouth in profile. She was as classically beautiful as her mother, their coloring as different as the sun to the moon but breathtaking all the same.

She was petite too, her figure well suited to the higher-waisted gowns and long flowing lines of current fashion. He’d never really looked much at women before, but the purity of her beauty drew him in, made him want to kneel at her feet and worship her . . .

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as she presented him with a cup of tea.

“You do not want it?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I was thinking about something else. The tea is most welcome.”

He drank it fast, almost burning his tongue, eager to return to their conversation, surprised by how interested he was in finding out more about Marguerite.

“Are you willing to talk to me then?”

She stared at him, her expression dubious. “As long as you don’t slobber over me.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “I did not slobber; I’m not a dog or a horse. I merely suggested I thought you beautiful.”

“Then don’t.”

He set down his cup. “I’ll stop if you agree to come out with me on Friday night.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you are bored? Because you know you would enjoy my company?”

She half-smiled. “Not only blind but conceited as well.”

He shrugged, surprised by how much he enjoyed her acerbic replies. It seemed all Helene’s children had inherited their mother’s unorthodox nature. He hoped to God that Marguerite was unique enough to understand and appreciate his requirements. He sighed.

“Can I be honest with you? I’m not just trying to avoid matchmaking mothers. I promised my brother I would turn over a new leaf, and that involves going out into society more and spending less time indulging in the excesses of the pleasure house. No offense intended to your mother, of course.”

Marguerite nodded but didn’t speak, her attention fixed on his face.

“We need each other. I want to reintroduce myself into polite society, and you need to enjoy yourself without feeling threatened by all the men who covet your beauty and wealth.”

“You think that’s why I don’t go out?”

“Isn’t it?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s not as simple as that. After my husband died, there were many who blamed me for his death.” She winced. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

“He died in a duel, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“He was an adult?”

“Yes . . .”

“Then he made a foolish decision and paid the price for it.”

“But he wouldn’t have fought the duel if he hadn’t married me.”

“If he was the kind of man who chose to settle his problems in such an archaic manner, then sooner or later he would probably have found some way to kill himself. You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for his stupidity.”

Her chin went up. “Justin was not stupid!”

He inclined his head. “If you say so, but why allow a little gossip over something that happened so long ago affect your whole life? The ton has probably forgotten all about you.”

“You are very rude.”

“No, I’m just being honest.” He smiled at her. “Isn’t it refreshing?”

She glared at him for at least a minute before her face relaxed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“May I call you Marguerite?”

“Why?”

“So that you can call me Anthony and we can be friends.”

She put her cup down and stared at him. “I do not understand you at all.”

“You should. I’m offering to be your friend—or do you have too many of them to care for another?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Everyone needs friends.”

Anthony held out his hand. “Then good; let’s agree to keep each other company for a while. We can brave the stares of the ton together and laugh at them behind their backs.”

Marguerite took his hand and slowly shook it. “I will come out with you on Friday night.”

He kissed her fingers. “Good, I’m looking forward to it already.”