Miranda made soothing sounds as she ledAlexandra towards the main entrance. “I will have the Cambourne coachtake you home."
Every step took Alexandra farther fromSutton. She’d misjudged him. Loss, dark and gaping, smotheredher, taking her breath away. She stumbled.
Miranda caught her and gently placedAlexandra inside the Cambourne coach. “Please see Miss Dunforth home, Waldo,”she instructed the groom. “You may return for Lord Reynolds and myself,later.” Miranda squeezed Alexandra’s hand. She looked overher shoulder at her brother, who watched them with hooded eyes from theentrance. “Alexandra?” She lowered her voice so Waldo did not overhear. “What happened to leave you in such a state?”
Alexandra blinked back tears. Shewould brave this out. Her chin lifted. “I simplyinformed Lord Reynolds of my betrothal to Mr. Runyon.”
Miranda said nothing. She swallowedhard. “Oh no, Alexandra.” Miranda’s lovely face crumpled. Sheshook her head and disengaged Alexandra’s hands from her own. Waldo shutthe carriage door. Alexandra could stand it no longer. She began toweep.
***
Damn her! His mind refused toaccept the truth of Alex’s words. Refused to acknowledge the anguish herwords caused to his heart. He convinced himself it was only that he wasthwarted in his lust. There were many women in the world. He didnot need to suffer the loss of a temperamental spinster from Hampshire.Alexandra was like every other woman. Runyon simply made her a betteroffer. Sutton merely made a mistake. Alexandra was not different.Providence allowed him to find out before he made an ass of himself.Sutton made the incorrect assumption that Alexandra wantedhim.Not the Marquess of Cambourne. Not Satan Reynolds.Him.Pity he didn’t know earlier her price was a farm. No matter. Heintended on either killing Archie or sending him to the continent.
An unexpected wave of longing washedthrough him.Alex.
Did she care for Runyon? Share hisproclivities? The thought made Sutton ill. No. Her response toSutton had been innocent and untried. Alexandra had not been with anotherman. He did not believe the awful words he flung in anger at her.He refused to believe she married Runyon because she wanted to.
A distant memory came to him, from histime at Eton. Three boys, all despised by the other youths, were tormenteddaily by the headmaster for their perceived flaws. Colin smuggled in abottle of whiskey – good Irish whiskey – from his father’sstudy. The three ran and hid on the edge of the woods, drinking until thebottle emptied. Nicholas said a man in the village told him that an oldgypsy woman lived by the river. She told fortunes.
Drunk, but in agreement to have theirfutures told, the three made their way to the river and spied the Gypsywagon. An old nag, barely able to stand, was tethered to the wagon.The old woman didn’t flinch as the trio approached. Laughing, the threesat as the crone cackled in delight at their appearance.
Colin shouted they wanted their fortunestold. Our fates should make the other boys respect us. Make ussound dangerous he said – so that the other boys will learn to stayaway.
‘I’ve been waiting for you, my Wickeds’the crone laughed ‘all cursed aren’t you?’.Her gaze fell on Nicholas. “We sharean ancestor.”
Nicholas shrank back in horror.
The crone reached out and grabbedSutton. She held his chin, turning his head back and forth, as ifexamining him for flaws. One claw like hand stroked his cheek.“Aterrible beauty you are. They say the devil was once an angel as well.”Hislooks were a curse, she said, for no one would ever look past his face to seethe soul encased therein.
The crone terrified Sutton. Hetried to pull away from her grasp.
She laughed, coughing up brownspittle. The spittle hung from her withered lips. Grabbing his lefthand, she traced the lines of his palm with a yellow cracked nail.Her eyes, nearly concealed by sagging folds of flesh, sparkled with asupernatural intelligence.“Women will desire you. You have onlyto look at them to seduce them. No woman will be able to resist you.” Colinand Nicholas burst into gales of laughter, their fear momentarily forgotten.Nicholas made several lewd comments.“But, your life will becontrolled by the jealous envy of others. You will be marked for it.”Suttonshrank back, his eyes never leaving the crone’s face.“And love?You will love only once, the same as your father.”
Nicholas dropped the whiskeybottle. Colin coughed nervously.
Sutton had pulled his hand away from thecrone. How could she know? How could shepossiblyknow about hismother?
The crone chuckled at his discomfort.‘The woman you desire above all others will belong to one whom you wish todestroy. You will never possess her.”
The memory dimmed and he was once againat the Royal Exhibition. Sutton clenched his fists tightly. He didn’tbelieve in prophecy.
FOURTEEN
Nicholas Tremaine, Viscount Lindley,strolled into White’s watching with amusement as liveried toadies ran to takehis cloak. He shrugged the wet wool off his massive shoulders andthrew the cloak at one of the scurrying men. The other toadies looked atNicholas in thinly veiled disapproval, but their mouths remained firmlyshut. Nicholas was barely admitted at Whites and he was sure theadmittance committee brought up his disbarment from the establishment on anannual basis. It was of no import. If one was the heir to a wealthydukedom, no matter the infamy of that dukedom, one was admitted toWhite’s. Besides, he wasn’t here to bask in the aura of the indolentgentlemen that filled the rooms. He was here for Satan Reynolds.
Nicholas called earlier for Cam at hisfriend’s home, only to be told by the butler, some arrogant Scots that Camemployed, that his lordship had left that afternoon to hear Lord Bishopspeak. No one adored a boring, tedious lecture more than Cam, but it waspast the dinner hour and his friend had not returned home. Given that Camseemed to attract persons who wished to murder him since his return from Macao,Nicholas thought it appropriate to locate his best friend.
Nicholas next approached Cambourne House,praying as he rarely did, that he would not have to make polite niceties withCam’s stepmother, the Marchioness. Lady Reynolds annoyed Nicholas sofiercely that when he saw her, his hands itched to snap her neck. He wellremembered her treatment of Cam during his entire childhood, and how she’dforced his departure to Macao. Nicholas hated the woman.
Nicholas started to ask for the Dowagerat the door but was stopped by the appearance of Miranda. Cam’s sisterwas not a woman given to hysterics. She looked quite lovely in herdistress, but Nicholas ignored his attraction to her since it would likelyresult in his death at her brother’s hands. Instead he sat down withMiranda and gently asked her what in bloody hell had happened? Betweensobs, Miranda related that Archie Runyon was back in London and betrothed tosomeone named Alexandra. Before Nicholas could ask why any of thatmattered, Miranda flew up the stairs in a fit of tears.
Nicholas pushed aside Miranda’s behaviorearlier and returned his attention to the great room of White’s.Ah!There he was. Satan Reynolds! Nicholas adored calling Cam by thathideous nickname since he knew how his friend detested it. Ridiculousthough the name was, it suited Cam. Cam was entirely a devil whenit came to women. He avoided innocents and those women who seemed to bein love with their husbands, although those females were few and far between intheton. Nicholas thought that sporting of Cam, not to take undueadvantage. Because Cam could if he wished. Women flocked to him like beesto honey, throwing themselves at him like lemmings going over a cliff.Cam said he only seduced the women thatdeservedto be seduced by SatanReynolds.
Nicholas lifted one dark brow at thesight of Cam holding a glass of whiskey with one unsteady hand. How thetonwould be shocked to know that the terribly foxed man sitting before Nicholasspoke five languages, wrote travel essays under a pen name, and would have donewell as a professor or scholar.
Cam sat in a dank, dark corner ofWhite’s, a large, expensive bottle of whiskey his only companion. Hegrunted in greeting at Nicholas and proceeded to wave an unsteady hand towardsa chair to his right.
Nicholas assumed that an invitation ofsorts. Eyeing the narrow leather chair, he grimaced. Did White’shave nothing bigger in this blasted place? For God’s sake, what did hepay a fortune in dues for? Whites should provide proper furniture for allits members. He twisted, trying to mold his large, muscular frame intothe fragile chair. The chair protested his weight, squeaking andwobbling a bit, but held. Nicholas sighed in frustration.
