Wicked by Cheryl Holt Page B

situation was hardly ominous. There was no reason for a fast departure.
    “Seriously,” Lucas said, “let’s ride out in the morning. Bugger Stanley. If he’s upsetting you, I’m happy to take my chances in London.”
    “I can’t leave now.”
    “Why not?”
    “I agreed to help him resolve a problem he’s having.”
    “What is it?”
    “It’s nothing. It’s just…I swore I would.”
    “Well, I must point out that if you’re letting yourself be sucked into one of Stanley’s schemes, you have only yourself to blame when it crashes down.”
    “You’re correct.”
    “Whatever he’s asked of you, you shouldn’t proceed. It can’t be to your advantage.”
    “He told me if I aid him, he’ll give me the information about my parents. And a thousand pounds to boot.”
    “You believed him?”
    James hemmed and hawed, not sure how to answer. He and Stanley had such a strange relationship. Stanley insisted he’d been kind to James because Edwina had insisted, but Edwina had been dead for almost two decades. So what was Stanley’s motive? Why persist? It made no sense and never had.
    Stanley had never liked James and claimed he didn’t like to support James or have him on the premises. But the instant James got fed up and tried to sever ties, Stanley would lure him back, and James was unable to evade Stanley’s incessant pull.
    Where Stanley and Summerfield were concerned, James had no spine whatsoever.
    Did he trust Stanley? Did he assume Stanley would follow through on a promise?
    “I don’t not believe him,” he ultimately said.
    “What does that mean?” Lucas asked.
    “Don’t listen to me. I’m morose and miserable.”
    “You certainly are, so we’ll have to start the dancing without you. What with Vicar Oswald finally leaving, we barely have the energy for amusement. Your glum attitude would ruin what’s left.”
    Suddenly, Miss Ralston appeared in one of the windows. She was wearing her schoolteacher’s dress—gray fabric, white collar and cuffs, every inch of skin covered from chin to toe—and it occurred to James that she must not have a garment that was more fetching. Not a single gown suitable for a party. It was the saddest notion ever.
    Yet even attired in the drab, conservative outfit, she was shockingly pretty. On seeing her, his pulse raced.
    Stanley might be expecting to marry her, but that act had no bearing on how James behaved. He’d be more than happy to show her things that Stanley never could.
    Would she hate James in the end? He prayed that she wouldn’t.
    “There’s Miss Ralston,” Lucas said.
    “What do you think of her?”
    “She’s much too fine for the likes of Stanley Oswald.”
    “My opinion exactly.”
    “Let’s bet on whether I can seduce her,” Lucas eagerly suggested, and on hearing the ridiculous remark, a wave of jealousy swept through James.
    “You never could,” James told him. “She doesn’t like you.”
    “Not like me? Don’t be absurd. Women love me.”
    “Not her. She finds you vain and annoying.”
    Lucas’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “She didn’t say that.”
    “She did.”
    “Then I’ll just have to spend the evening changing her mind, won’t I?”
    He waltzed away, and James snickered to his retreating back, “Good luck.”
    “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Lucas scoffed. “It’s skill and charm and cleverness. She doesn’t stand a chance against me.”
    Lucas flitted inside, and James observed until Lucas sidled up to Miss Ralston. His flirtatious charisma was visible even from James’s removed vantage point.
    The entire charade was too ludicrous to watch. He spun and fled into the garden.
    * * * *
    Rose hurried down the garden path. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, and thankfully, there were lanterns lighting the route so she wouldn’t barrel into anyone as she had when she’d nearly knocked down James Talbot.
    The party was still in progress in the house behind her, and she’d begun to feel as if