Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,76

an informal manner toward his employer.

Her butler was a prig. She’d have to do something about that.

“Marissa, are you sure you are all right?” The dark tendrils of his hair were blown about his ears from the wind outside, and his eyes shone like pewter. “Jordana has told me that sometimes when a person is hit in the head—”

“I’m fine. And it was only a small case of hair dye and a hatbox or two.” Marissa’s heart threatened to come out of her chest just looking at him. “It isn’t as if I was stomped on by a horse.”

“Even so,” the right side of his mouth tipped up, “you should rest.”

No, what she should do was attempt to dispel the rumors making their way around London about her and Haddon, even though it was likely a wasted effort. She was lucky, she supposed, that her nephew, the duke, wasn’t standing on her doorstep, and Spencer was at Gray Covington with Elizabeth else Marissa might fear for Haddon’s life. Adelia would probably arrive at some point today to crow over Marissa’s tarnished reputation.

It was all very distressing.

But worse was this terrible dread at the thought of Haddon leaving her.

Her fingers wrapped more firmly around his.

“I’m not tired,” she insisted, trying to push away the rising panic. She and Haddon, over tea for her and coffee for him, had agreed to an understanding. She didn’t fear he’d change his mind. That wasn’t the source of her mounting anxiety. It was perfectly normal for Haddon to return home. He had his own affairs to see to, and Jordana wanted to go to Thrumbadge’s.

Goodness, she’d lived forty-nine years without Haddon in her life. Nevertheless, her fingers tightened around his forearm like a steel band, clinging to Haddon as if she wouldn’t survive a moment without him.

Marissa had never been a woman who clung to a gentleman. It was unseemly.

There is a first time for everything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as Haddon gently disengaged her fingers.

“Everything will be all right, my love.” He kissed her forehead. “I promise.”

My love. A tremor ran through Marissa at the brush of his lips. No one had called her that in a very long time, not since Reggie. If Haddon didn’t leave, she might embarrass herself further by sobbing into his coat like some nitwit.

“Curl up in your delightful parlor and nap, why don’t you? We have an understanding, do we not?” he whispered against her ear.

“I suppose we do.”

“I’ll expect you to dream about me.” He pinched her bottom, grinning when she squeaked in outrage.

Greenhouse gave a gasp of horror at their antics before composing himself.

“How in God’s name did you end up with such a prude for a butler?” Haddon smiled into her hair, his body shaking as he tried not to laugh out loud. “And we most certainly do have an understanding. That will not change. I’ll send you a note later.”

Marissa nodded as he pulled away from her.

“You’re acting very odd, Marissa.” He leaned down, peering at her in concern. “Do you want me to stay? Jordana will understand.”

“No. And she will not understand.” Marissa was being ridiculous. Needy. The behavior reminded her of the way she’d dissolved into a puddle of grief when Reggie had disappeared. She had promised never to conduct herself in such a way again. It was unbecoming. Haddon would find it appalling and rescind their understanding before it had even begun. And she wouldn’t blame him.

“I do have a small headache.”

“All the more reason to rest.” Haddon strode to the door and winked at her before making his way outside.

She stood in the middle of her foyer, waiting until she heard Haddon’s carriage pull away before making her way up the stairs. Her ankle did hurt. Just a bit.

Felice rushed to Marissa, taking her arm.

“My lady, we were so worried for you.”

“Just a small bump on the head and a twist of my ankle. My shoe is in worse shape.” Marissa gestured to her foot. The shoe looked as if a large dog had been gnawing at it. “But I am in need of a bath, I think.” Maybe a nice soak and a nap would help set Marissa to rights and keep this feeling of dread at bay. She already missed Haddon. How much worse would she feel when he actually did leave her?

Maybe he won’t, her heart murmured. He said he wouldn’t. Ever.

Marissa was sure Haddon meant the sentiment. Now. But she was realistic; after having three husbands, one