Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,43

bodice was cut so low, that when she curtsied to the Marquess of Vere, her breast popped out.”

“Yes. It was quite the stir.”

Utilizing her contacts, Marissa had made sure the scandal involving Catherine and Mr. Kendicott was alluded to in the London papers. But no one seemed shocked by Catherine’s behavior nor did it reflect badly on Simon. Everyone knew what a slut Catherine was.

“It was never about Catherine’s reputation,” Marissa said to her niece. “Though it would have been lovely if his sister’s reputation caused Simon some embarrassment. I simply wished to avoid Kendicott bailing Simon and Lydia out of debt.”

“You succeeded,” Arabella said with a nod.

The claim for the Blue John mine was making its way slowly through the courts, something Marissa was doing purposefully in order to drag out the process and cost Simon as much money as possible. Until ownership was decided, the mine remained open and the profits put into a trust. She’d not wished to take away the livelihood of the men working the mine, only Simon’s.

She was sure Lydia was anxiously waiting to see whether or not Marissa would make the claim public, which would make Simon the recipient of untold attention.

Let her worry. How long did Reggie wait, dying in a cave, for rescue?

Timing was everything. The markers would be called due first. Shortly thereafter, Marissa meant to make the lawsuit public. She would also feed the gossip hounds of London with conjecture about why the ownership of the mine was being disputed. With so much negative publicity, Sir Richard was bound to call off the courtship of his daughter, especially when Simon’s brilliant career became nonexistent. His supporters would leave him. He would be destitute and hardly considered a catch any longer. Lydia would have no hope of ever being saved.

Just like Reggie.

The noose was tightening. It should have brought her much more joy that her plans were coming to fruition. But all she could think of was Haddon. She could not shake the memory of his face after she’d called their relationship meaningless. Marissa had hurt him, far worse than she could have imagined.

But he seemed to have recovered quickly, if the gossips were correct.

“How is your Lord Haddon?”

Marissa didn’t answer her niece right away. She knew he was well; certainly Jordana, who showed up to have tea with Marissa several times a week, would inform her if he was not. Haddon’s daughter took great pains to never mention anything about her father, foiling several attempts on Marissa’s part to glean more information. But she’d heard the gossip. The handsome widower’s attention to the daughter of the Marquess of Stanton, Lady Christina Sykes, was no secret. Nor was his interest in several other young ladies.

“He’s not my Lord Haddon.”

“Indeed not, if the rumors are true.” Arabella gave her a sympathetic look.

“Ours was a brief association, Arabella.” Sending Haddon from her, dismissing him from her life, hadn’t stopped Marissa’s heart from breaking. Instead, she seemed in a constant state of melancholy. “I was a novelty to him, nothing more.”

“And what was he to you, Aunt?”

The answer to her niece’s question was complicated and fraught with danger for Marissa. She refused to think too hard on it. “While it was amusing to have a younger man pay me attention, Haddon was no more than a dalliance, as he could only be for a woman my age.”

“You make yourself sound quite ancient, which is ridiculous. You are far from being an elderly matron along the lines of the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne. Besides,” Arabella’s voice softened, “I saw the way he looked at you.”

Marissa’s eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. “Haddon is in the market for a wife. He’s got four daughters and is in need of a son.”

“Are you sure of that, Aunt?” Arabella shrugged when Marissa didn’t answer. “At any rate, I find Christina Sykes to be an annoying creature. She twitters.”

“She does indeed.”

Thinking of Haddon and Lady Christina Sykes did nothing to brighten Marissa’s mood.

“Well, look who has arrived.” Arabella nodded in the direction of the door. “I thought she might accompany Lady Higgins.”

So had Marissa.

Magnificently coiffed in a gown of pale gray silk, Lady Pendleton sidled into the room like an overdressed crab. Pale skin stretched taut across the sharp bones of her face, drawing attention to the sunken hollows of her cheeks. Lips thinning, Lydia took in the assemblage gathered in the room.

Marissa smiled. Lydia had little charity in her heart for anyone. How annoyed she