Chapter no 6

When He Was Wicked (Bridgertons, #6)

โ€ฆ Iโ€™m sorry I havenโ€™t written. No, thatโ€™s not true. Iโ€™m not sorry. I donโ€™t wish to write. I donโ€™t wish to think ofโ€”

โ€”-from the Countess of Kilmartin to the new Earl of Kilmartin, one day after the receipt of his first missive to her, torn to bits, then soaked with tears

By the time Michael arose the next morning, Kilmartin House seemed to be back up and running as befitted the home of an earl. There were fires in every grate, and a splendid breakfast had been laid out in the informal dining room, with coddled eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, toast with butter and marmalade, and his own personal favorite, broiled mackerel.

Francesca, however, was nowhere to be found.

When he inquired after her, he was given a folded note sheโ€™d left for him earlier that morning. It seemed she felt that tongues might wag at their living alone together at Kilmartin House, and so she had removed herself to her motherโ€™s residence at Number Five, Bruton Street, until either Janet or

Helen arrived down from Scotland. She did, however, invite him to call upon her that day, as she was certain they had much to discuss.

And Michael supposed she was right, so once heโ€™d finished with his breakfast (finding, much to his great surprise, that he rather missed the yogurts and dosas of his Indian morning meal), he stepped outside and made his way to Number Five.

He elected to walk; it wasnโ€™t very far, and the air had warmed appreciably since the icy gusts of the day before. But mostly, he just wanted to take in the cityscape, to remind himself of the rhythms of London. Heโ€™d never noticed the particular smells and sounds of the capital before, how the clip- clop of horsesโ€™ hooves combined with the festive shout of the flower seller and low rumble of cultured voices. There was the sound of his feet on the pavement, and smell of roasting nuts, and the vague heft of soot in the air, all combining to make something that was uniquely London.

It was almost overpowering, which was strange, because he remembered feeling precisely the same way upon landing in India four years earlier. The humid air, redolent with spice and flowers, had shocked his every sense. It had felt almost like an assault, leaving him drowsy and disoriented. And while his reaction to London wasnโ€™t quite that dramatic, he still felt rather like the odd man out, his senses buffeted by smells and sounds that shouldnโ€™t have felt so unfamiliar.

Had he become a stranger in his own land? It seemed almost bizarre, and yet, as he walked along the crowded streets of Londonโ€™s most exclusive shopping district, he couldnโ€™t help but think that he stood out, that anyone glancing upon him must instantly know that he was dif-ferent, removed from their very British existence.

Or, he allowed, as he caught sight of his reflection in a shop window, it could be the tan.

It would take weeks to fade. Months, maybe. His mother was going to be scandalized.

The thought of it made him grin. He rather enjoyed scandalizing his mother. Heโ€™d never be so grown up thatย thatย ceased to be fun.

He turned on Bruton Street and walked past the last few homes to Number Five. Heโ€™d been there before, of course. Francescaโ€™s mother had always defined the word โ€œfamilyโ€ in the widest of all possible manners, so Michael had found himself invited along with John and Francesca to any number of Bridgerton family events.

When he arrived, Lady Bridgerton was already in the green-and-cream drawing room, taking a cup of tea at her writing desk under the window. โ€œMichael!โ€ she exclaimed, rising to her feet with obvious affection. โ€œHow good to see you!โ€

โ€œLady Bridgerton,โ€ he said, taking her hand and gracing it with a gallant kiss.

โ€œNo one does that like you,โ€ she said approvingly.

โ€œOne has to cultivate oneโ€™s best maneuvers,โ€ he murmured.

โ€œAnd I canโ€™t tell you how much we ladies of a certain age appreciate your doing so.โ€

โ€œA certain age beingโ€ฆโ€ He smiled devilishly. โ€œโ€ฆ one and thirty?โ€

Lady Bridgerton was the sort of woman who grew lovelier with age, but the smile she gave him made her positively radiant. โ€œYou areย alwaysย welcome in this house, Michael Stirling.โ€

He grinned and sat in a high-backed chair when she motioned for him to do so.

โ€œOh, dear,โ€ she said with a slight frown. โ€œI must apologize. I suppose I should be calling you Kilmartin now.โ€

โ€œ โ€˜Michaelโ€™ is just fine,โ€ he assured her.

โ€œI know that itโ€™s been four years,โ€ she continued, โ€œbut as I havenโ€™t seen youโ€ฆโ€

โ€œYou may call me anything you wish,โ€ he said smoothly. It was strange. Heโ€™d finally grown used to being called Kilmartin, adapted to the way his title had overtaken his surname. But that had been in India, where no one had known him as plain Mr. Stirling, and perhaps more importantly, no one had known John as the earl. Hearing his title on Violet Bridgertonโ€™s lips was a little unnerving, especially since she had, as was the custom for many mothers-in-law, habitually referred to John as her son.

But if she sensed any of his inner discomfort, she gave no indication. โ€œIf you are going to be so accommodating,โ€ she said, โ€œthen I must be as well. Please do call me Violet. Itโ€™s well past time that you did.โ€

โ€œOh, I couldnโ€™t,โ€ he said quickly. And he meant it. This was Lady Bridgerton. She wasโ€ฆ Well, he didnโ€™t know what she was, but she couldnโ€™t possibly beย Violetย to him.

โ€œI insist, Michael,โ€ she said, โ€œand Iโ€™m certain youโ€™re already aware that I usually get my way.โ€

There was no way he was going to win the argument, so he just sighed and said, โ€œI donโ€™t know if I can kiss the hand of a Violet. It seems rather scandalously intimate, donโ€™t you think?โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t you dare stop.โ€

โ€˜Tongues will wag,โ€œ he warned her.

โ€œI believe my reputation can withstand it.โ€ โ€œAh, but can mine?โ€

She laughed. โ€œYou are a rascal.โ€

He leaned back in his chair. โ€œIt serves me well.โ€

โ€œWould you care for tea?โ€ She motioned to the delicate china pot on the desk across the room. โ€œMine has gone cold, but I would be happy to ring for more.โ€

โ€œIโ€™d love some,โ€ he admitted.

โ€œI suppose youโ€™re spoiled for it now, after so many years in India,โ€ she said, standing and crossing the room to ring the bellpull.

โ€œItโ€™s just not the same,โ€ he said, quickly rising to his feet as well. โ€œI canโ€™t explain it, but nothing tastes quite like tea in England.โ€

โ€œThe quality of the water, do you think?โ€

He smiled stealthily. โ€œThe quality of the woman pouring.โ€ She laughed. โ€œYou, my lord, need a wife. Immediately.โ€ โ€œOh, really? And why is that?โ€

โ€œBecause in your present state, you are clearly a danger to unmarried women everywhere.โ€

He couldnโ€™t resist one last flirtation. โ€œI hope you are including yourself in those ranks, Violet.โ€

And then a voice from the door: โ€œAre you flirting with myย mother?โ€

It was Francesca, of course, impeccably turned out in a lavender morning dress adorned with a rather intricate stretch of Belgian lace. She looked as if she were very much trying to be stern with him.

And not entirely succeeding.

Michael allowed his lips to curve into a mysterious smile as he watched the two ladies take their seats. โ€œI have traveled the world over, Francesca, and can say without qualification that there are few women with whom Iโ€™d rather flirt than your mother.โ€

โ€œI am inviting you to supper right now,โ€ Violet announced, โ€œand I will not accept no for an answer.โ€

Michael chuckled. โ€œIโ€™d be honored.โ€

Across from him, Francesca murmured, โ€œYou are incorrigible.โ€

He just flashed her a lanky grin. This was good, he decided. The morning was proceeding exactly as heโ€™d hoped, with he and Francesca falling into their old roles and habits. He was once again the reckless charmer and she was pretending to scold him, and all was as it had been back before John had died.

Heโ€™d been surprised last night. He hadnโ€™t expected to see her. And he hadnโ€™t been able to make sure that his public persona was firmly in place.

And it wasnโ€™t as if itย allย was an act. Heโ€™d always been a bit reckless, and he probablyย wasย an irredeemable flirt. His mother certainly liked to say that heโ€™d been charming the ladies since the age of four.

It was just that when he was with Francesca it was vitally important that that aspect of his personality remained at the forefront, so that she never suspected what lay underneath.

โ€œWhat are your plans now that you are returned?โ€ Violet asked.

Michael turned to her with what he knew had to be a blank expression. โ€œIโ€™m not certain, actually,โ€ he said, ashamed to admit to himself that that was true. โ€œI imagine it will take me some time to understand just what exactly is expected of me in my new role.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sure Francesca can be of help in that quarter,โ€ Violet said. โ€œOnly if she wishes it,โ€ Michael said quietly.

โ€œOf course,โ€ Francesca said, moving slightly to the side when a maid came in with a tea tray. โ€œI will assist you in any way you need.โ€

โ€œThat was rather quick,โ€ Michael murmured.

โ€œIโ€™m mad for tea,โ€ Violet explained. โ€œDrink it all day long. The maids keep water to near boiling on the stove at all times now.โ€

โ€œWill you have some?โ€ Francesca asked, since she had taken charge of pouring.

โ€œYes, thank you,โ€ Michael replied.

โ€œNo one knows Kilmartin as Francesca does,โ€ Violet said, with all the pride of a mother hen. โ€œShe will prove invaluable to you.โ€

โ€œI am quite sure that you are correct,โ€ Michael said, accepting a cup from Francesca. She had remembered how he took itโ€”milk, no sugar. For some reason this pleased him immensely. โ€œShe has been the countess for six years, and for four of them, she has had to be the earl as well.โ€ At Francescaโ€™s startled glance, he added, โ€œIn every way but in name. Oh, come now, Francesca, you must realize that it is true.โ€

โ€œAnd,โ€ย he added, โ€œthat it is a compliment. I owe you a greater debt than I could ever repay. I could not have stayed away so long had I not known that the earldom was in such capable hands.โ€

Francesca actually blushed, which surprised him. In all the years heโ€™d known her, he could count on one hand the times he had seen her cheeks go pink.

โ€œThank you,โ€ she mumbled. โ€œIt was no difficulty, I assure you.โ€

โ€œPerhaps, but it is appreciated all the same.โ€ He lifted his teacup to his lips, allowing the ladies to direct the conversation from there.

Which they did. Violet asked him about his time in India, and before he knew it he was telling them of palaces and princesses, caravans and curries. He left out the marauders and malaria, deciding they werenโ€™t quite the thing for a drawing-room conversation.

After a while he realized that he was enjoying himseli immensely. Maybe, he thought, reflecting on the moment as Violet said something about an

Indian-themed ball sheโ€™d attended the year before, just maybe heโ€™d made the right decision.

It might actually be good to be home.

An hour later, Francesca found herself on Michaelโ€™s arm, strolling through Hyde Park. The sun had broken through the clouds, and when she had declared that she could not resist the fine weather, Michael had had no choice but to offer to accompany her for a walk.

โ€œItโ€™s rather like old times,โ€ she said, tilting her face up toward the sun. Sheโ€™d most likely end up with a ghastly tan, or at the very least freckles, but she supposed sheโ€™d always look like pale porcelain next to Michael, whose skin marked him immediately as a recent returnee from the tropics.

โ€œWalking, you mean?โ€ he asked. โ€œOr your expertly maneuvering me into accompanying you?โ€

She tried to maintain a straight face. โ€œBoth, of course. You used to take me out a great deal. Whenever John was busy.โ€

โ€œSo I did.โ€

They walked on in silence for a few moments, and then he said, โ€œI was a bit surprised to find you gone this morning.โ€

โ€œI hope you understand why I had to leave,โ€ she said. โ€œI didnโ€™t want to, of course; returning to my motherโ€™s home makes me feel as if Iโ€™m stepping right back into childhood.โ€ She felt her lips pinching together in distaste. โ€œI adore her, of course, but Iโ€™ve grown rather used to maintaining my own household.โ€

โ€œWould you like me to take up residence elsewhere?โ€

โ€œNo, of course not,โ€ she said quickly. โ€œYou are the earl. Kilmartin House belongs to you. Besides, Helen and

Janet are only a week behind me; they should arrive soon, and then I will be able to move back in.โ€œ

โ€œChin up, Francesca. Iโ€™m sure you will endure.โ€

She shot him a sideways glance. โ€œIt is nothing that youโ€”or any man, for that matterโ€”will understand, but I much prefer my status as a married woman to that of a debutante. When Iโ€™m at Number Five, with both Eloise and Hyacinth in residence, I feel as if Iโ€™m back in my first season, with all the attendant rules and regulations.โ€

โ€œNot all of them,โ€ he pointed out. โ€œIf that were true, youโ€™d not be allowed out with me right now.โ€

โ€˜True,โ€œ she acceded. โ€Especially with you, I imagine.โ€œ โ€œAnd just what is that supposed to mean?โ€

She laughed. โ€œOh, come now, Michael. Did you really think that your reputation would find itself whitewashed just because you left the country for four years?โ€

โ€œFrancescaโ€”โ€ โ€œYouโ€™re aย legendโ€ย He looked aghast.

โ€œItโ€™s true,โ€ she said, wondering why he was so surprised. โ€œGoodness, women are still talking about you.โ€

โ€œNot to you, I hope,โ€ he muttered.

โ€œOh, to me above all others.โ€ She grinned wickedly. โ€œThey all want to know when you plan to return. And itโ€™s sure to be worse once word gets out that youโ€™re back. I must say, itโ€™s rather an odd roleโ€”confidante to Londonโ€™s most notorious rake.โ€

โ€œConfidante, eh?โ€

โ€œWhat else would you call it?โ€

โ€œNo, no, confidante is a perfectly appropriate word. Itโ€™s just that if you think Iโ€™ve confidedย everythingย in youโ€ฆโ€

Francesca shot him a cross expression. This was so like him, letting his words trail off meaningfully, leaving her imagination feverish with questions. โ€œI take it then,โ€ she muttered, โ€œthat you did not share with us all the news from India.โ€

He just smiled. Devilishly.

โ€œVery well. Allow me, then, to move the conversation to more respectable areas. Whatย doย you plan to do now that you are back? Will you take up your seat in Parliament?โ€

He appeared not to have considered that.

โ€œIt is what John would have wanted,โ€ she said, knowing that she was being fiendishly manipulative.

Michael looked at her grimly, and his eyes told her that he did not appreciate her tactics.

โ€œYou will have to marry as well,โ€ Francesca said.

โ€œDo you plan to take on the role of my matchmaker?โ€ he asked peevishly.

She shrugged. โ€œIf you desire it. Iโ€™m sure I couldnโ€™t possibly do a worse job of it than you.โ€

โ€œGood God,โ€ he grumbled, โ€œIโ€™ve been back one day. Do we need to address this now?โ€

โ€œNo, of course not,โ€ she allowed. โ€œBut soon. Youโ€™re not getting any younger.โ€

Michael just stared at her in shock. โ€œI canโ€™t imagine permitting anyone else to speak to me in such a manner.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t forget your mother,โ€ she said with a satisfied smile.

โ€œYou,โ€ he said rather forcefully, โ€œareย notย my mother.โ€

โ€œThank heavens for that,โ€ she returned. โ€œIโ€™d have expired of heart failure years ago. I donโ€™t know how she does it.โ€

He actually halted in his tracks. โ€œIโ€™m notย thatย bad.โ€ She shrugged delicately. โ€œArenโ€™t you?โ€

And he was speechless. Absolutely speechless. It was a conversation theyโ€™d had countless times, but something was different now. There was an edge to her voice, a jab to her words that had never quite been there before.

Or maybe it was just that heโ€™d never noticed it.

โ€œOh, donโ€™t look so shocked, Michael,โ€ she said, reaching across her body and patting him lightly on the arm. โ€œOf course you have a terrible reputation. But you are endlessly charming, and so you are always forgiven.โ€

Was this how she saw him, he wondered. And why was he surprised? It was exactly the image heโ€™d cultivated.

โ€œAnd now that you are the earl,โ€ she continued, โ€œthe mamas shall be falling all over themselves to pair you with their precious daughters.โ€

โ€œI feel afraid,โ€ he said under his breath. โ€œVery afraid.โ€

โ€œYou should,โ€ she said, with no sympathy whatsoever. โ€œIt will be a feeding frenzy, I assure you. You are fortunate that I took my mother aside this morning and made her swear not to throw Eloise or Hyacinth in your path. She would do it, too,โ€ she added, clearly relishing the conversation.

โ€œI seem to recall that you used to find joy in throwing your sisters in my path.โ€

Her lips twisted slightly. โ€œThat was years ago,โ€ she said, swishing her hand through the air as if she could wave his words away on the wind. โ€œYou would never suit.โ€

Heโ€™d never had any desire to court either of her sisters, but nor could he resist the chance to give Francesca a wee verbal poke. โ€œEloise,โ€ he queried, โ€œor Hyacinth?โ€

โ€œNeither,โ€ she replied, with enough testiness to make him smile. โ€œBut I shall find you someone, do not fret.โ€

โ€œWas I fretting?โ€

She went on as if he hadnโ€™t spoken. โ€œI think I shall introduce you to Eloiseโ€™s friend Penelope.โ€

โ€œMiss Featherington?โ€ he asked, vaguely recalling a slightly pudgy girl who never spoke.

โ€œSheโ€™s my friend as well, of course,โ€ Francesca added. โ€œI believe you might like her.โ€

โ€œHas she learned to speak?โ€

She glared at him. โ€œIโ€™m going to ignore that comment. Penelope is a perfectly lovely and highly intelligent lady once one gets past her initial shyness.โ€

โ€œAnd how long doesย thatย take?โ€ he muttered.

โ€œI think she would balance you quite nicely,โ€ Francesca declared.

โ€œFrancesca,โ€ he said, somewhat forcefully, โ€œyou will not play matchmaker for me. Is that understood?โ€

โ€œWell, someโ€”โ€

โ€œAnd donโ€™t you say that someone has to,โ€ he cut in. Really, she was the same open book sheโ€™d been years ago. Sheโ€™d always wanted to manage his life.

โ€œMichael,โ€ she said, the word coming out as a sigh that was far more long- suffering than she had a right to be.

โ€œI have been back in town for one day,โ€ he said. โ€œOne day. I am tired, and I donโ€™t care if the sun is outโ€”Iโ€™m still bloody cold, and my belongings havenโ€™t even been unpacked. Pray give me at least a week before you start planning my wedding.โ€

โ€œA week, then?โ€ she said slyly.

โ€œFrancesca,โ€ he said, his voice laced with warning.

โ€œVery well,โ€ she said dismissively. โ€œBut donโ€™t you dare say I didnโ€™t warn you. Once you are out in society, and the young ladies have you backed into a corner with their mamas coming in for the killโ€”โ€

He shuddered at the image. And at the knowledge that her prediction was probably correct.

โ€œโ€”you will be begging for my help,โ€ she finished, looking up at him with a rather annoyingly satisfied expression.

โ€œIโ€™m sure I will,โ€ he said, giving her a paternalistic smile that he knew sheโ€™d detest. โ€œAnd when that happens, I promise you that I shall be duly prostrate with regretful-ness, atonement, shamefacedness, and any other unpleasant emotion you care to assign to me.โ€

And then she laughed, which wanned his heart far more than he should have let it. He could always make her laugh.

She turned to him and smiled, then patted his arm. โ€œItโ€™s good to have you back.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s good to be back,โ€ he said. Heโ€™d said the words automatically, but he realized heโ€™d meant them. Itย wasย good. Difficult, but good. But even difficult wasnโ€™t worth complaining over. It was certainly nothing he wasnโ€™t used to.

They were fairly deep in Hyde Park now, and the grounds were growing a bit more crowded. The trees were only just beginning to bud, but the air

was still nippy enough that the people out strolling werenโ€™t looking for shade.

โ€œI should have brought bread for the birds,โ€ Francesca murmured.

โ€œAt the Serpentine?โ€ Michael asked with surprise. Heโ€™d often walked in Hyde Park with Francesca, and they had tended to avoid that area of the Serpentineโ€™s banks like the plague. It was always full of nursemaids and children, shrieking like little savages (often the nursemaids more so than the children) and Michael had at least one acquaintance who had found himself pelted in the head with a loaf of bread.

Seems no one had told the budding little cricket player that one was supposed to break the bread into more manageableโ€”and less hazardousโ€” segments.

โ€œI like to toss bread in for the birds,โ€ Francesca said, a touch defensively. โ€œBesides, there wonโ€™t be too many children about today. Itโ€™s still a bit cold yet.โ€

โ€œNever stopped John and me,โ€ Michael offered gamely.

โ€œYes, well, youโ€™re Scottish,โ€ she returned. โ€œYour blood circulates quite well half frozen.โ€

He grinned. โ€œA hearty lot, we Scots.โ€ It was a bit of a joke, that. With so much intermarriage, the family was at least as much English as it was Scottish, perhaps even more so, but with Kilmartin firmly situated in the border counties, the Stirlings clung to their Scottish heritage like a badge of honor.

They found a bench not too far from the Serpentine and sat, idly watching the ducks on the water.

โ€œYouโ€™d think theyโ€™d find a warmer spot,โ€ Michael said. โ€œFrance, maybe.โ€

โ€œAnd miss out on all the food the children toss at them?โ€ Francesca smiled wryly. โ€œTheyโ€™re not stupid.โ€

He just shrugged. Far be it from him to pretend any great knowledge of avian behavior.

โ€œHow did you find the climate in India?โ€ Francesca queried. โ€œIs it as hot as they say?โ€

โ€œMore so,โ€ he replied. โ€œOr maybe not. I donโ€™t know. I imagine the descriptions are perfectly accurate. The problem is, no Englishman can truly understand what they mean until he gets there.โ€

She looked at him quizzically.

โ€œItโ€™s hotter than you could ever imagine,โ€ he said, spelling it out. โ€œIt soundsโ€ฆ Well, I donโ€™t know how it sounds,โ€ she admitted. โ€œThe heat isnโ€™t nearly so difficult as the insects.โ€

โ€œIt sounds dreadful,โ€ Francesca decided.

โ€œYou probably wouldnโ€™t like it. Not for an extended stay, anyway.โ€ โ€œIโ€™d like to travel, though,โ€ she said softly. โ€œIโ€™d always planned to.โ€

She fell silent, nodding in a rather absentminded manner, her chin tilting up and down for so long that he was quite sure sheโ€™d forgotten she was doing it. Then he realized that her eyes were fixed off in the distance. She was watching something, but for the life of him he couldnโ€™t imagine what. There was nothing interesting in the vista, just a pinchfaced nursemaid pushing a pram.

โ€œWhat are you looking at?โ€ he finally asked. She said nothing, just continued to stare. โ€œFrancesca?โ€

She turned to him. โ€œI want a baby.โ€

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