Invitation to Ruin (7 page)

She would fight for freedom by giving up her own. The irony was not lost on her.

Melissa looked into Anthony’s silver-gray eyes and shivered. What was it about this man? She should be petrified of the brooding rake. She licked her lips, not quite believing she was so readily capitulating. “Before I accept your proposal—”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Before I accept,”—she leveled a serious gaze at him—”I have one favor to ask of you. Call it an engagement gift of sorts.” She watched his eyes narrow into cautious slits. “Anthony, I have no wish to be the laughing stock of the
ton
, nor do I assume would you.”

Melissa was pleased to see Anthony’s confident smile dim slightly. “I will grant you any favor in my power to give.”

She tried to keep a blush from scalding her cheeks. “I would like your promise that you won’t take my cousin as your mistress. Put bluntly, I do have some pride. I don’t want my husband sleeping with a woman I am related to.”

A
nthony’s face remained a mask; not a flicker of emotion crossed his handsome features. “You do know I am likely to take a mistress once we marry? I won’t have you interfering in the way I conduct myself.”

Her face heated further, and pain lanced through her chest. She fixed her gaze firmly on his face, willing her hurt not to show. “I am not naive of the ways of gentlemen. Just promise me that it is not Cassandra.”

He stood looking at her for what seemed like several minutes, the silence deafening. Finally, he nodded and gave a small bow. “That is not too much to ask given the circumstances. My engagement gift shall be my promise not to pursue Cassandra.” He hesitated before adding, “Know this, Melissa. I will never intentionally hurt or humiliate you, if I can help it.”

She inwardly sighed in relief, and his warm smile lessened some of her pain. “Thank you.”

“However, there will be some talk.”

Melissa’s lips lost their smile. “Obviously. Your views on the horrid state of matrimony are well known.”

“I will do all I can to contain the gossip.”

Melissa nodded. “I shall leave the story of pacifying the ton’s curiosity to you. Everyone will know why I have accepted—it’s a great honor.”

Anthony clapped his large hands together. “Good, then it’s
settled. I shall go and give Mother the wonderful news. We’ll marry as soon as I have obtained the special license. Shall we say Friday morning?”

Melissa clutched her hands tightly. In just under a week, she would be the Countess of Wickham. That hardly scared her. What turned her insides to ice was the thought of being married to the notorious Lord of Wicked. If she wasn’t careful, he’d undoubtedly break her heart.

Anthony patted her hands, taking her silence for acquiescence. “Leave everything to me. I’ll get the special license organized and the vicar. If you require a new dress or bonnet, speak to my mother. She’ll organize any bills to be sent to me.”

He opened the door and walked out.

   Slumped back on the settee in his mother’s temporary sitting room, off her bedchamber in Cassandra’s house, Anthony could not hide the hard edge to his features or the blatant coldness about him as he stared at the woman seated across from him. A woman the world called his mother but who was in fact a complete stranger to him.

He sprawled in his seat with forced elegant ease, analyzing the Dowager Countess of Wickham—the woman who’d borne him but who was never a maternal figure in his life. An ease that did nothing to disguise the air of contained hostility emanating from his bulky frame.

His mother sat stiffly in her chair, to all intents and purposes looking as if she were poised for flight. Her hair, although graying in parts, still shone golden in the sun just like Richard’s. Her eyes, still a vivid blue, reminded him so much of his brother it hurt looking at them. He envied Richard his mother’s small nose. Anthony’s nose dominated his face, as had his father’s. She was still a remarkably beautiful woman, if it wasn’t for the coldness radiating from her. He tried to make allowances for her. Being married to his father could not have been easy.

He looked at his mother. Not once had he experienced the
comfort of his mother’s arms, or been given any feelings of maternal love. She’d lavished the little love she had on his brother. Richard had been hers while he’d been left to their father.

“You have finally got your wish. It appears I am to marry.” Anthony tried to feign some measure of joy in the news he had just imparted to his mother.

He shifted uneasily in his chair. He hoped he was doing the right thing—for both himself and Melissa.

“Appears? Either you are betrothed or you are not. Which is it?” Her mouth set in a grim line. “Let me guess, you have succumbed to Lady Sudbury’s delights. I have watched her leading you around like a bull with a ring through its nose this past week. If she won’t bed you without marriage, she’s risen in my estimations.”

“Mother, really,” he started in an offended tone. The fact she was quite correct in her deduction annoyed him somewhat. He was becoming too predictable. At least this announcement was anything but predictable.

He took great joy in correcting her. “It is not Lady Sudbury.” He hesitated, wondering if she’d be pleased at his choice, not that he gave a damn. His mother’s wishes were never a consideration in anything he did in his life. “It’s Miss Melissa Goodly, Cassandra’s cousin.”

A hint of a smile curled on the Dowager’s sullen mouth. “Caught in the wrong bed were you?”

Richard. He’d already told her. His blood began to pound through his veins. Had they planned this together? Had Richard been working for his mother? Anthony recoiled at the thought. Richard professed he’d engineered this situation for Anthony’s own good, but perhaps pleasing Mother had been forefront in his mind. He briefly closed his eyes. God, could he trust no one?

His features remained impassive. “News travels quickly in this household.”

His mother sniffed. “Miss Goodly is not the woman I would have picked. Her temperament does not suit you.”

Anthony frowned. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Like any mother, I do not wish you to be unhappy.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anthony could not believe what he was hearing. “Since when have you ever been concerned with my happiness? You have left it a bit late haven’t you?”

She hung her head. “I realize you have not forgiven me for deserting you when you were young, but your father was a hard man. If I created any fuss at his treatment of you, he threatened to take Richard, too.”

Anthony tried to hide the emotions her words provoked, but he could not help the note of pain in his voice. “And we could not have precious Richard hurt, could we?”

A flash of anger entered her eyes. “Richard was not strong like you. You take after your father. Richard was softer. Your father would have broken him.”

Anthony leaned forward and through clenched teeth said, “What do you think he did to me?”

The anger left her eyes. “He did not break you. You’re your own man. You survived. That’s why selecting the most appropriate wife is so important. The right woman, a woman you could come to love, will be the making of you.”

Anthony blanched. Love?

“There has not been enough love in the Wickham dynasty. I was hoping you’d be strong enough to change that.”

Anthony looked at his mother as if she’d gone mad. He rose from his chair, a sudden chill unsettling him. Love was something he’d never contemplate. Love and hate, the two sides of the same coin, both led to heartache. It was far safer not to feel at all. If you succumbed to real emotions, either love or hate, you could be manipulated or hurt. Care for nothing and you had nothing to lose.

His father had taught him well.

Anthony came to a halt in front of his mother’s chair. “I wouldn’t know love if it dropped down from heaven on angels’ wings. I think you have overestimated me, Mother.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then she shrugged her
delicate shoulders. “It hardly matters now. You have made your choice. She is very beautiful of course. If it wasn’t for a lack of dowry, I’m sure she would have had several proposals of marriage by now. As it is, Lord Dashell has been very attentive. He has no need of money. He must like the girl.”

Anthony’s frown deepened. Beautiful? He sat down with a bump. He didn’t want to acknowledge Melissa’s looks. Her beauty was a gaping flaw in his plan. When not being compared with Cassandra, Melissa was indeed pleasing to the eye. This marriage would only work if he treated Melissa’s looks dispassionately. He could not come to desire his wife.

His temper piqued. He did not like the prick of jealousy burrowing into his side. Dashell? He balked at the thought she preferred another. She’d told him she’d been dreaming when he came to her bed. Was it Dashell she dreamed of? Had he destroyed her hopes of a match with the man she loved? No. Melissa had told him she loved no one. Had she lied?

Anthony’s hands fisted on his thighs. God help him. No, God help her. She was his. For some unknown reason, he did not want her dreaming of another man. Why was beyond him. He wasn’t territorial about his women, and he did not care enough for any of them to care about fidelity. Why was the thought of Melissa with another man choking him with anger?

He did not like the feelings pouring through him. The sooner they were wed and he could send her away from him the better. He’d simply find a new mistress, and then Melissa would be forgotten.

His fists slowly relaxed.

“I have always wanted a daughter, a young lady to dress and introduce to Society.” Turning to him, her face animated, his mother added, “She only has her brother, doesn’t she? Her parents are dead. I shall have to take her in hand immediately. She will need a whole new wardrobe. Her clothes are not fashionable enough for a countess. Her brother has not taken very good care of her.”

His mother was going to enjoy this. “I will be happy to pay for anything you deem appropriate for my bride to be.”

His mother rose and surprised him by placing a kiss on his cheek. He stiffened at the unexpected contact.

“For your father’s son, you are a very generous man.”

Anthony’s good mood vanished with her words. He rose to leave.

“I shall leave Melissa’s fate in your hands. I have seen to the other particulars. You will know the invitations to accept once news of the wedding becomes public.”

“You will be expected to escort her to many of the balls. It would look peculiar if you did not.”

Anthony gave his mother what he hoped was a dazzling smile. “I am looking forward to the prospect of squiring my wife through the vivacious
ton
immensely.”

If his mother believed that she was sillier than he thought.

   Lady Wickham watched her son leave her room with mixed emotions roiling in the pit of her stomach. She gave a satisfied smile. Anthony must never know she thought Miss Melissa Goodly was precisely the woman he needed.

She’d been watching and assessing Miss Goodly since the beginning of the Season, and she liked what she saw. The young lady knew her own mind. Miss Goodly did not simper, flirt, or preen to attract a man, even though her brother faced financial ruin. Melissa remained composed while Lord Norrington paraded her before elderly widowers, hoping her obvious earthy charms would entice an offer of marriage.

The Countess of Wickham shuddered at the realities of life. Miss Goodly’s own brother would sell her innocence to a decrepit reprobate simply to save his own skin. She smiled to herself. She was pleased to have been able to set Richard down the right path. Although she’d never have foreseen how quickly or how expertly Richard managed to accomplish what she never thought she’d ever see in her lifetime.

Anthony married.

She stood and let out a nervous breath. Her plan could
have gone terribly wrong. She’d suggested to Richard that Miss Goodly was the type of woman who would be the making of his brother. Bless Richard; his quick thinking had done the rest.

She moved to her writing desk and drew out a piece of paper. She would write to Selby and ensure Wickham Manor was ready for her return immediately following the wedding. She didn’t want there to be any distractions in Craven House; they deserved time alone.

She paused in her writing. Miss Goodly was not only intelligent, refined, and selfless, but also beautiful. What convinced her that this match would be Anthony’s salvation, however, was Melissa’s charming disposition.

Melissa had a very kind heart. Her goodness was evident in the friendships she kept and the work she did for the Ladies Freedom Charity, a charity that raised money to buy slaves their freedom and then found them paid employment.

The Countess knew that would strike a chord with Anthony. Once married, once alone at Craven House, how could Anthony not succumb to Melissa’s many charms—both physical and spiritual? At least Anthony would have someone by his side. Someone who might come to love him—if he let her.

If Melissa’s quiet strength and beauty couldn’t rattle her son, then no woman could and her husband would have won.

The Countess’s smiled faded. She’d die before she let that happen. Her son had been hurt enough. She was going to do everything in her power to make this marriage a success.

   Cassandra wanted to slap the triumphant smile off Christopher’s face as he lay panting beside her. As usual, he had not satisfied her.

Probably because she was still angry with herself.

Her plan had not worked. Why, oh why, had she tried to play a game with Lord Wickham? If she’d simply let him seduce her straight into her bed, the first night they’d met, she would not be in this situation.

As if reading her mind, her lover said, “Do not look so upset, Cassandra. You’ll still be able to take Wickham as your lover. A man like him will never be satisfied by one woman, let alone his wife.” Christopher laughed. “But thank god I caught them. He is the answers to my prayers. If I’d known how easy Melissa’d be, I might have set her up in a compromising situation earlier.”