“No,” she said softly. “I need to do this for Reggie.” She pressed his hand to her cheek. “And myself.”
Spencer leaned back slightly, still scowling at her. “Very well. You’ve called in his markers?”
“I did this morning. I’ve given him until the end of the month to come up with the sum, which he will not be able to do.”
“Why not force him to pay immediately?”
“I want them to suffer.” Marissa’s voice turned brittle. “Worry. Fret. I want Lydia stumbling about drunkenly, terrified of being poor. She’ll have a measure of relief thinking her son has bagged Miss Higgins. Which will make the loss of her that much sweeter.”
Spencer regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.
“What is it?” Marissa patted his hand.
“I just never noticed how much you remind me of Grandfather.” He took her fingers, pressed a kiss to the tips and returned his attention to the play.
15
Thank goodness the lights were flickering for intermission. Marissa tapped her foot as she waited for the curtain to come down.
“I believe I’ll stretch my legs and visit Lady Waterstone for a moment.” Marissa stood. “I did promise if I attended tonight, I would stop by her box.”
Spencer glanced at her, disapproval still hovering at the edges of his mouth. Her son could go hang. How dare he condemn her actions while simultaneously offering to garrote Lydia with her string of pearls for Marissa. She wasn’t going to murder anyone.
Marissa meant only to meet Captain Ross Nighter, the man Tomkin had hired. Perhaps she’d have an opportunity to speak to him and outline her expectations for Miss Higgins. She didn’t want the girl harmed in any way by Nighter.
No, you’ll handle that part yourself.
The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Reggie.
Marissa wasn’t having any of it. She was conflicted enough about what she meant to do. She pushed the voice aside along with her guilt.
When she arrived at Adelia’s box, her friend was sipping wine, her buxom figure draped over a large, bulky shape in a chair facing the stage.
Captain Nighter.
Marissa came forward. She’d not confided the circumstances of Reggie’s death to Adelia, only that his remains had been found. It was one thing to discuss lovers and children, quite another to inform your closest friend you were ruthlessly destroying one of London’s most brilliant politicians because his father had murdered your husband decades ago.
Adelia wouldn’t understand Marissa’s need to avenge Reggie. Just as she wouldn’t comprehend why Marissa had refused Haddon.
Damn it. Stop thinking of him.
“Marissa, darling.” Adelia rushed forward, resplendent in an emerald gown which was the perfect foil for her auburn hair. “I was hoping you’d stop by. It’s a dull play, don’t you think?”
“Atrocious,” Marissa agreed.
“But the leading man is delicious, is he not? Who cares how poor his acting is?”
“Adelia, you’re incorrigible. Aren’t you already otherwise engaged?” Marissa nodded in the direction of the chair facing the stage. She could just make out the profile of a man. Aquiline nose. Strong jaw.
“Yes, but one must always be prepared for the inevitable,” she said. “Until then, I’m enjoying myself immensely.” She tugged at her bodice. “Nighter is very impatient, but I knew you’d be coming by.” Fluffing the lace at her neckline, she said, “He’s here, you know. I saw him as we came in. Those magnificent cheekbones are impossible to miss.”
“Who is here?” Marissa said, pretending indifference.
“Your Lord Haddon.” Adelia shook her head, the ringlets at her temples bouncing vivaciously. “You’ve taken the daughter but not him. Foolish girl.” Adelia wagged a finger. “Now he’s taken up with that little twit. He’s in Lord Stanton’s box tonight.”
Marissa’s heart thudded painfully at the words. “Lady Christina Sykes?” It wasn’t unexpected, given the way their names were linked in the gossip columns. What was surprising was how much Marissa hated hearing Adelia confirm their relationship. Up until now, Marissa had been able to pretend it was nothing more than gossip.
“And Miss Ashley. Or Miss Higgins.” Adelia laughed. “Your Lord Haddon certainly is making his way through this season’s debutantes. Though not we merry widows. I can’t seem to catch his eye though I’ve been trying. Perhaps he doesn’t care for redheads.”
A low sound came from Marissa before she could stop it.
“Well?” Adelia lowered her voice to a whisper. “You aren’t interested though why that is I can’t imagine. Haddon has that look to him. Every inch a man.” She wiggled her brows.
“Adelia—” Marissa warned.
Adelia leaned back, smug smile firmly in place. “Well, it does seem such a waste. But very well, I’ll keep my distance. Don’t be cross with me, darling.”
Marissa’s fingers flexed. She was horrified to find both hands had been curled into fists. The thought of Adelia, or anyone else, bedding Haddon was so abhorrent, she nearly slapped her closest friend. She’d always assumed Spencer had gotten his bloodthirsty tendencies from his grandfather, the ‘Old Spider.’
Apparently not.
“You were saying something about Miss Higgins?”
Adelia spared a glance in the direction of the balcony, where a disgruntled sigh filled the air from Captain Nighter. “Regina Higgins, the younger sister of the lady whose engagement to Viscount Pendleton will be announced soon. She’s developed a tendre for your handsome baron.”
“Adelia.” A masculine grunt came from the chair. “I’m bored.”
The dark outline stood, taking the shape of a towering, well-built gentleman.
Adelia giggled and went over to take his arm, propelling him forward, but Nighter’s eyes remained on Marissa, one brow quirked in question.
He was breathtakingly handsome, much more so than Marissa had expected, though Adelia had always displayed good taste in men, if not judgement. Candlelight glinted on the burnished gold of his close-cropped hair, dipping to trail across his exquisitely sculpted features. His mouth was full and wide—sensuous lips with just a hint of cruelty tipping up one end.
He was
