One Wicked Wish Read online

  All good, really.

  “You took an appalling chance. Not least your gamble that Lord Halston would act the gentleman. But as no real harm came of it…” She hoped to heaven that was true, and it wasn’t Imogen’s virtue that she was thinking about when she formed that unspoken prayer. “…I suppose I’ll have to forgive you.”

  “I’m so glad, Stella. You’re the best of cousins.”

  “I am. Just promise me you’ll never do anything like this again.”

  Imogen bent her head. Stella wasn’t sure whether it was in contrition, or whether the girl was avoiding her eyes. “I promise I’ll never threaten to run off with a rake again. It was a silly idea, and I hate that I caused you all this worry. I’ve learned my lesson and now I intend to enjoy my season.”

  “Very saintly of you,” Stella said drily.

  “I’m sorry for sending you out into the cold.” The sincerity in Imogen’s voice at last convinced Stella that she felt some genuine remorse. “You’re right. I launched this scheme without thinking too hard about how it could go wrong. Or what impact it could have on my family.”

  The heartfelt apology soothed Stella’s temper. “Thank you.”

  A silence fell, and at last the carriage lurched into movement. The crush of vehicles must be easing. Imogen went back to staring out the window, while Stella struggled to forget quite how handsome Halston had looked presiding over a burning brazier.

  She already thought of him as the devil. That should be enough to convince her that she wanted nothing more to do with him. But she was wicked, more wicked than anyone knew. Even if he swept her away to hell, she had a powerful inkling that in his arms, hell would become heaven.

  “Was he as naughty as everyone says?” Imogen asked. Stella realized her cousin was staring at her. The torches ranged along the street outside Comerford House lent enough light to reveal her cousin’s curiosity.

  “I told you, I didn’t speak to him. I saw him, then I came back inside.”

  “It’s just that you were missing for quite some time.” What a deuced pity that Imogen had noticed that. “And you looked rather flustered when you came back into the ballroom.”

  “It took me a while to find the gazebo. And I was frantic about what had happened to you.”

  “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

  Yes, curse him, he was. “Handsome is as handsome does.”

  Imogen shot her an unimpressed glance. “I don’t know why you always try to act as if you’re a hundred years old. You’re not that much older than I am, but you carry on as if you’re as old as Methuselah.”

  Did she? “That’s not very kind.”

  Imogen looked unrepentant. “You’re pretty and funny and much more interesting than the woman you present to the world. Even when I give you a nice dress, you do your best to turn it into something a nun would reject as too dowdy. And every time I look at your hair, I get a headache that I’m sure must match yours.”

  What an altogether uncomfortable evening this turned out to be. It had started with Stella in a panic about Imogen’s safety. It then turned into another panic when she discovered that Halston had targeted her. Now she had to endure honest criticism from the cousin she loved. Honest and well deserved.

  Which didn’t stop the remarks from stinging. Because twenty-nine wasn’t old, even though she’d told Halston she was middle-aged. Hot, passionate blood still pumped through her veins. Stella only had to recall her powerful attraction to his licentious lordship to admit that.

  Yet with every hour she spent in her uncle’s house, her youth seeped away. One day soon, she’d be old in truth, and it would be too late to make a life for herself.

  Yet what choice did she have? She knew that Imogen meant well, but Stella couldn’t contain the hint of resentment in her response. “I’m paying the price of my poverty. You know that.”

  “I know that you’re paying the price of your parents’ recklessness.”

  It was true. Her mother, Lord Deerforth’s beautiful younger sister, had rejected a wealthy marriage in favor of eloping with her handsome drawing master. “My parents loved each other.”

  That was true, too. They had. And they’d loved Stella. But none of that had put food on the table or offered Stella an ounce of security after they perished in a cholera epidemic. Her parents had set up home in Naples, and her father had scratched a living, selling portraits and landscapes to Englishmen on the grand tour. Once the war started on the Continent, even that unreliable income had dried up.

  After her parents died, Stella had been left alone, penniless, and battling a grief that left her bewildered. For a while, she’d tried to manage by selling her own watercolors, but it was hopeless. She wasn’t as talented as her father, and a woman besides. Then, not long after that, she ended up with more terrifying things to deal with than earning a living.

  The French invaded the Kingdom of Naples, and all of a sudden, as the child of English parents, she was in genuine danger. When the Royal Navy sent a ship to evacuate all British citizens, she was grateful to find a place on board.

  It was also lucky that her mother had a network of friends among the rich foreign residents of the city. In worldly terms, Anne Ridley might have made an unfortunate marriage, but she remained the daughter and sister of an earl.

  Lady Benstead had known Stella’s mother as a girl and had kept up the acquaintance. She’d taken responsibility for Stella and made sure she was delivered safely to Lord Deerforth’s estate.

  Her uncle’s charity had been so grudging that it made Stella’s skin itch. But with the Marchioness of Benstead insisting that it was his duty to take in his niece, he had little choice but to offer Stella bed and board.

  Still grieving her parents’ deaths and the loss of the only home she’d ever known, not to mention shaken and sickened by the scenes she’d witnessed during the invasion, Stella found herself playing the part of a poor relation at Hamble Park.

  Deerforth’s charity had become even colder since then. There was never any question that he and his late wife might accept Stella as a valued member of the family and offer her the advantages they offered their own daughter. She was in the house on sufferance, and everyone knew it.

  Everyone except Imogen, who could have treated her abominably, with nobody to say her nay. Yet Imogen had provided the one glimmer of brightness during these last dark years.

  And they’d been hard years, especially for someone as overburdened with pride as Stella. She’d worked as Imogen’s unpaid governess and now companion. After her aunt’s death, she’d also taken over running the household.

  Imogen’s searching stare seemed to see more than Stella wanted to reveal. “Don’t you want someone to love you?”

  Imogen didn’t know how the question stung. Once someone had loved Stella. Not just her parents. A man who had brought magic to her life. That sweet, forbidden memory had helped her to survive the endless humiliations of life with her uncle.

  Her lips tightened, and her response was stiff. “I want to keep my place, where someone feeds me three meals a day and I’ve got a bed to sleep in. My uncle wouldn’t appreciate it if I decided that your season is my season, too.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if you shared my season.”

  “No, but your papa would.”

  “When I marry, you can come and live with me.” Stubbornness firmed Imogen’s jaw. “I’ll make sure that you’re treated in the manner you deserve.”

  Startled, Stella studied her cousin. Not because of the offer of a future home, although she appreciated the thought, even if she didn’t count on it. There were two people in any marriage, and a new husband mightn’t welcome his bride’s indigent relatives moving in. It was the rest of the statement that had her agog.

  “Married? You’ve always been set against the idea.”

  The prospect of entering the marriage mart had formed a large part of Imogen’s objections to coming to London. If Halston’s name hadn’t distracted her when she found
that letter, she’d have wondered why a girl who didn’t want a husband was all of a sudden embarking on an elopement.

  “I was,” the girl said, once again avoiding Stella’s eyes. “That was one of the reasons that it seemed a good idea to meet Lord Halston. If I was ruined, nobody would want to marry me, and Papa would leave me in peace when it comes to Lord Chippenham.”

  “You’d get tired of everybody slighting you as a scarlet woman.”

  The girl shrugged. The coach had stopped again, and this time Stella didn’t mind. This conversation was proving too interesting to interrupt. “I have my garden, and anyone who is my true friend won’t care about the gossip.”

  Imogen devoted her life to rebuilding Hamble Park’s extravagant gardens. To date, her father had indulged her interests. Although Stella doubted he’d be so generous if Imogen’s behavior sparked a scandal that blighted his ambitions.

  She’d been at a crucial point in building a parterre when her father whisked her away to London. All she’d talked about since she’d arrived was how much she wanted to go back home and make sure the workmen were following her instructions. Imogen had always been much more interested in plants than she was in any young men who might want to court her.

  “Yet now you speak of marriage.” The girl had said that she was happy to continue with her season, too. Stella shot her pretty cousin a suspicious look. “Did you meet someone you like tonight?”

  “How could I?” The faint flush along Imogen’s cheekbones firmed Stella’s suspicions. “It was all the same people that we’ve seen every night for the last two weeks. I danced with Lord Chippenham and Anthony Comerford and Eliot and a couple of Eliot’s friends, who were obviously doing him a favor. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Stella didn’t believe her. Although short of calling Imogen a liar, she couldn’t say anything. She determined to look out for the young man who had taken her fancy.

  Someone had. Lord Chippenham hadn’t ignited that glow in Imogen’s lovely eyes. He was almost fifty, and Imogen considered him a pompous boor.

  Was it one of Eliot’s friends? Eliot, while not a boor, was almost as respectable as Chippenham, and his cronies were all upstanding young gentlemen. If Imogen set her cap for one of them, perhaps her father might approve the match.

  Imogen looked like a dainty little blossom, but she had a will like a mule. In the end, Deerforth would have to accept the failure of his plans for his daughter to cement his access to Chippenham. Chippenham with his connections to mining and shipping and political influence.

  “I’m glad you’ve reconciled yourself to staying in Town,” Stella said in a matter-of-fact tone. “The household will be happier at least.”

  Although a quick departure for Gloucestershire might be safer for Stella. She couldn’t forget the determination ringing in Halston’s voice when he threatened to pursue her.

  Chapter 3

  “Lord Halston has called, my lady.”

  At the butler’s announcement from the doorway to the crowded room, Stella’s head jerked up from where she bent over her embroidery.

  She’d spent all morning in a strange, jittery mood. Despite not getting home until after two, she’d had trouble sleeping. That encounter with a roué had been enough to set her wanton blood rushing in a way it hadn’t since her last meeting with Niccolo ten years ago. She’d hoped that time might blunt her powerful response to a handsome man. Yet it seemed that when temptation was strong enough, she was as susceptible as ever.

  This afternoon, Imogen was at home to callers, and the drawing room was heaving with giggly young girls, not to mention an assortment of older women. Mothers. Aunts. Godmothers. The occasional chaperone like Stella. A few older brothers were also present, having escorted their sisters.

  Stella only realized when she heard his name that she’d been awaiting Halston’s next move. Whatever reassurances she’d given herself last night, she’d known there would be one. Wondering how he meant to proceed had left her in horrid suspense.

  A reverberant silence descended upon the largely feminine crowd. Everyone present was respectable, and any potential suitors were younger and less jaded than Lord Halston. The unexpected arrival of a man of his reputation would cause talk.

  Given that Halston possessed both a great name and a substantial fortune, and that he was yet to choose his countess, gossip would focus on whether he’d found a wife at last in Imogen Ridley.

  “Please show his lordship in,” Imogen said, looking very bright-eyed. She’d know just what a compliment this was and how it would enhance her standing. Halston’s call was the final accolade to confirm Imogen’s social success.

  His lordship strolled in, looking as spectacular as ever. He didn’t glance at Stella on her chair near the fire. It was a warm, unobtrusive corner, and she’d spent far too long in it this afternoon, letting the conversation wash over her while her mind dwelled on notorious lords.

  He bowed to Imogen and raised her hand to his lips. “I’m delighted that we were introduced at last, Lady Imogen. I’ve admired you from afar since your arrival in London. I’m just sorry that my injury makes dancing impossible at present.”

  Introduced? Stella had missed that. It must have happened when she accompanied Harriet to the retiring room to help repair a torn hem.

  Interesting that Imogen hadn’t told her. Her eyes sharpened on her cousin who sat a couple of chairs away. The girl looked dazzled. And dazzling.

  Last night, Stella had wondered if some gentleman had caught Imogen’s interest. What a fool she was not to count Halston as a potential husband. He was well past the age where he was due to find a chatelaine for what was reported to be a magnificent estate in Buckinghamshire. And Imogen was without doubt eligible.

  Imogen said that she’d chosen Halston for her scandalous rendezvous because of his bad reputation. Now, looking at them together, Stella couldn’t help wondering if she’d also chosen him because she harbored a penchant for him.

  He was too old for her, Stella’s heart keened, as her hands clenched around her embroidery frame. Although he wasn’t. He must be fifteen years younger than Lord Chippenham, and considerably more vigorous. Nor was he at all starchy.

  Any girl would consider Halston an appealing suitor, despite his taste for wayward women. Lord Deerforth would find nothing to object to in such a match. He sought a son-in-law with money and influence. Halston had both. The Prince Regent was reported to adore him.

  What a crown a marriage to Halston would place on Imogen’s season. It would be accounted a triumph. While Halston gained a pretty wife with a loving heart and a sparkling personality. Why the devil wouldn’t he court Imogen?

  Except he’s mine, Stella’s lonely heart cried. Except he spoke to me last night as if we met soul to soul. Except he said that he wanted me.

  Could he be so depraved as to scheme to wed the earl’s daughter and seduce her humble companion at the same time? Growing up on the back streets of Naples, Stella had seen wickedness that would make the angels weep. Men without care or conscience in regard to money or power or women. As she’d said to Halston, evil men lurked in all stations, from the poorest laborer to the richest aristocrat.

  Halston was reputed to be a devil with the ladies. But last night, he hadn’t seemed so lost to goodness as that. When he’d expressed an interest in Stella, he’d seemed honest.

  He’d seemed honest? What a nitwit she was. She’d fallen for the oldest trick in the world. Of course, he sounded honest. The best liars always did.

  “Thank you for the gorgeous flowers,” Imogen said, with a flutter of the eyelashes that she’d learned since she left Gloucestershire.

  Flowers? That made his intentions toward Imogen clear. As happened after every ball, the house was inundated with floral tributes from Imogen’s dancing partners. Stella had stopped paying much attention.

  “You knew they were for you?”

  “I don’t think you’d send lilies to my father and address the card ‘To a fair
stranger.’”

  His brief grunt of amusement was so familiar from last night, when he’d seemed to hang on Stella’s every word. Just as he hung now on Imogen’s.

  The deceitful swine. How he must have snickered at Stella’s gullibility. Although there was some consolation in remembering that she hadn’t offered him much encouragement. With luck, he had no idea how powerfully she was drawn to him.

  Stella glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed her startled reaction to Halston’s arrival. But who would be interested in a mere companion when Imogen and Lord Halston offered such rich pickings for tattle? The guests who had been due to go because they’d used up their half hour made no attempt to move on. And there was little conversation, as dozens of ears pricked up to catch every word of Imogen’s dealings with the earl.

  “No, I doubt that Lord Deerforth would appreciate such a tribute.”

  The edge of excitement in Imogen’s giggle made Stella wince. Had she sounded quite so beguiled in the gazebo? She had a sick feeling that she had. “No, I don’t think he would.”

  “I saw his lordship at his club this morning and obtained his permission for you to attend a small house party at my estate in Buckinghamshire at the end of the week. Unfortunately, he’s detained with political business and won’t be able to come to Prestwick Place, but I’ll do my best to entertain you in his absence. I hope these arrangements meet with your approval.”

  “Oh!”

  This time attention focused on Stella, who to her mortification went as red as a beetroot. Her finger stung like blazes and had started to bleed. She’d dug the needle in hard. But this invitation to Halston’s house was a particular mark of favor that could very well be the prelude to a marriage proposal.

  “Miss Faulkner, are you unwell?” Halston asked, taking a step toward her.

  “I stuck myself with a needle, my lord.” She surged to her feet and spoke in a rush that she regretted at once. If only she could sound cool and composed.

  What she wanted most of all was a moment’s privacy to tell him that he was a lying toad for saying he wasn’t interested in Imogen. But she wasn’t likely to get that any time soon.