Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,88

her eyes from Haddon’s. “Perhaps a little color for your lips.”

Adelia winked. “I’ll find you later, darling. And let you know if my discussion with Nighter was productive.”

Marissa watched the fluttering ivory skirts of her friend disappear as Adelia departed, in search of a mirror, no doubt, for some last-minute preening.

Her heart thudded loudly, the sound echoing in her ears. She smoothed her skirts, shocked to see her fingers trembling against the silk.

Oh God.

“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered under her breath. “Reggie, you’re right.”

27

Marissa hurried to the right side of the ballroom, toward the hall Nighter and Miss Higgins had disappeared down. She had to stop this. Immediately. Nodding politely, Marissa started through the choking crush, desperate to get to Nighter before Adelia found him with Miss Higgins. She glanced in the direction of her friend who had been stopped and was now caught up in a discussion with, of all people, Enderly. Adelia was trying to be polite but her skirt was puffed out at one side as she tapped her foot impatiently. Enderly could be terribly long-winded.

I don’t have much time.

Marissa took off through the mass of silks and satins. How could she ever have thought this a good idea? Destroying Catherine’s chances of marrying Kendicott was one thing; Simon’s sister was a slut. But hurting a young girl and possibly destroying that girl’s chances of ever making a decent match was quite another. Miss Higgins was innocent of Lydia’s sins.

A portion of Marissa, the part which had been groomed by her father, screamed she must take her vengeance. It was so bloody close. Miss Higgins was, regrettably, collateral damage.

I can’t. I just can’t.

Panicked now, worried she couldn’t stop the series of events she’d set in motion, Marissa quickened her steps. She startled two elderly matrons who were deep in conversation, bumping into one with a mumbled apology. A fan snapped at her in disapproval.

Marissa ignored them. Lady Venworth was a sour old thing anyway.

Hurrying down the hall, she was dismayed to feel the toe of her slipper catch in her skirts.

“Good Lord. What am I paying Felice for?” Her maid was in dire need of a discussion on the maintenance of her employer’s clothing.

Slowing her pace lest she trip, Marissa sped as quickly as she could down the hall, praying Enderly would bore Adelia for at least a few more minutes. Pausing every few steps before a closed door, Marissa crooked her ear, listening for sounds of ruination.

I have to stop them.

The music faded as her journey took her further away from the ballroom. A muted giggle met her ears.

A low, raspy murmur replied.

Finally.

She looked behind her, but the hallway was thankfully deserted. For now. Marissa took a deep breath, assured of the way forward. Flinging open the door with no warning, she stepped inside to a small, private, well-lit sitting room.

Nighter was exceedingly thorough.

Miss Higgins gasped in surprise, jumping back from Nighter as if she’d been seared by a flame. Marissa couldn’t find fault with the girl’s affection for Nighter, misplaced though it was. Few young ladies would be able to refuse the ex-soldier, fewer still would wish to. Even Marissa had to admit, he was rather spectacular looking.

But Nighter didn’t possess magnificent bone structure nor have eyes like aged pewter. Both of which Marissa was fond of.

More than fond. Love.

Miss Higgins, thankfully, blessedly, was fully and completely clothed. Her breasts were in their proper place, tucked safely inside her very modest bodice. No curls had escaped her coiffure. Her lips weren’t even swollen from a clandestine kiss.

I’m just in time.

Nighter’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Marissa before one side of his mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “Lady Cupps-Foster. Good evening.”

“Lady Cupps-Foster,” Miss Higgins repeated in a horrified whisper. Her mouth trembled at Marissa’s pointed stare, uncurling her fingers from Nighter’s lapels with reluctance. She looked up at Nighter. “Ross?”

Nighter said nothing, but his chin dipped in Marissa’s direction, waiting for her to speak.

“I saw Lord Pendleton searching the ballroom for you, Miss Higgins,” Marissa said in her most matronly tone.

Nighter’s lips twitched at Marissa’s lie. They both knew Simon didn’t give a fig where Miss Higgins was. Only her dowry.

“Lord Pendleton,” Marissa admonished. “Your betrothed, Miss Higgins. Have you forgotten?” She put her hands on her hips and peered at the girl as if scandalized at her behavior.

Miss Higgins lifted her chin. “I don’t wish to marry Lord Pendleton. I’m going to run off with Ross.” She beamed adoringly