Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,83

something stronger. I’ve come with news.”

Before Marissa could ask, a knock on the door announced a servant bearing a tray with tea and an assortment of small biscuits. Once the servant bowed and left, Arabella sat down across from Marissa and poured out two cups of the steaming liquid.

“Milk or sugar?”

Her niece knew very well she took neither. Arabella was stalling. “Out with it.” Marissa brought the teacup to her lips. “I’ve not the patience this morning.”

Arabella didn’t touch her tea; instead, she clasped her hands together and forced them into a twisting mass on her lap. “Pendleton’s debt has been paid.”

Marissa sat back as the air left her lungs, shocked at her niece’s words. “Impossible.”

The sum was enormous. She’d only just called them due and Pendleton had no way to get a hold of such an amount in a short time. He hadn’t rushed Miss Higgins to Gretna Green in order to access the girl’s dowry. She had Tomkin watching the house and the Higgins’s home, just in case.

“It’s true, Aunt Maisy.” Arabella’s hand flipped in her lap though she tried to still it.

“How?” A choking sensation started in her throat. How had he managed to get his hands on such a large sum? Marissa had taken away Pendleton’s only other source of income—the mine. Miss Higgins was the only way to save himself. “Brushbriar has been stripped bare. Tomkin’s man in place at the estate has assured me of such. All of Lydia’s precious Blue John has been sold along with most of her expensive furnishings. My solicitors persuaded the court to put all profits from the mine into a trust while ownership is being contested. He can’t touch one single pound. I’ve destroyed his sister’s chance of marrying Kendicott, which Catherine may thank me for later. Imagine.” A laugh escaped her. “Catherine married to the son of a pig farmer.”

“I can’t,” Arabella agreed.

“And Pendleton would never go to any of his friends in Parliament. Begging money from the likes of Enderly or Duckworth would only tarnish his pristine reputation and lead to questions on the Blue John mine and how it came to be in his family’s possession, which would raise questions about Reggie’s murder. So where did he get the funds?”

Arabella’s hand flopped again, harder this time. She bit her lip.

“Did Higgins advance him the sum from his daughter’s dowry? It would be highly unusual, but I suppose . . . I should have ruined his courtship to Miss Higgins long before now. Their betrothal—”

“It wasn’t Higgins,” Arabella said so quietly Marissa barely heard her.

Marissa set down her cup and saucer with a loud clatter, not caring if the delicate china shattered against the table. Standing abruptly, she stood and went to the sideboard, pouring out a generous glass of whisky. Taking a mouthful, she swallowed the amber liquid, allowing the burn to settle in her stomach. “Even if his debt has been paid, Simon is still broke. Impoverished. He won’t be able to survive without the mine’s income unless he weds Miss Higgins. Which I’m not about to let him do.”

Marissa had suffered no small amount of guilt over Miss Higgins. Destroying the poor girl because her parents had the misfortune to betroth her to the wrong gentleman hardly seemed fair. She’d considered changing her mind. It wasn’t too late. Nighter had done nothing but discreetly befriend the girl, though Miss Higgins was falling in love.

I’ve no choice but to ruin her now. It’s the only way to stop the marriage to Simon.

“Well, who was it?” She turned to face her niece. “I’ll destroy them too.” Marissa was ready for this to be over. Her life had taken a wonderful, unexpected turn, and she wanted to spend as much of it as possible with Haddon.

Arabella stared down at her untouched tea as if studying the contents. “It was Haddon, Aunt Maisy.”

Marissa went completely still, her vision narrowing and darkening at the corners. She swayed, fingers biting into the sideboard to keep herself steady. Surely, Arabella was mistaken. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Arabella. It sounded as if—”

“It was Haddon.” Arabella looked up from her tea to Marissa. Her niece rarely expressed sympathy; seeing it now on her face caused a sob to catch in Marissa’s throat. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but . . .” Her eyes fell to the beautiful display of roses. “Pendleton’s solicitor has drawn up a loan repayment for the exact sum, payable to