“Your brotherruinedPetra because he loved her. Her relationship with Pendleton had little to do with it.” Simon had moved quickly to secure Miss Higgins before Marissa had had an opportunity to stop the courtship, and now the contracts had been signed. He’d have the money to pay off his markers, which Marissa now owned. She’d been careless, taunting Lydia at Arabella’s charity event and should have anticipated how Simon and his mother would react.
I wasn’t thinking clearly because of Haddon.
Her revenge had now become more complicated, but not insurmountable. A compromising position would have to be arranged for Miss Higgins with a gentleman who was not Viscount Pendleton. It would take some planning and must be executed flawlessly, but itwaspossible.
Miss Higgins would only have to be coerced,gently, into betraying Simon, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. He hadn’t bothered to even court Miss Higgins, just her father. Any gentleman who paid the poor girl a bit of attention could likely seduce her.
“It isn’t a love match, Spencer,” she said a bit defensively.
In fact, the instrument of Miss Higgins’s future ruination was, at this moment, sitting in a box with Marissa’s friend, Adelia. She meant to make his acquaintance, in spite of Tomkin advising her against doing so. But she’d insisted. An ex-soldier, the gentleman in question had served with Tomkin’s son somewhere in Canada. Ironically, he happened to be the same gentleman tupping Adelia.
The world was full of coincidences.
“You’d ruin that poor girl just to get at Pendleton?” Spencer looked incredibly disapproving, which Marissa thought hypocritical of her son given his past.
The guilt she’d been trying to ignore reared up.
“I didn’t think you so moralistic, Spencer. Besides, how else am I to ensure they don’t marry?” Marissadidfeel horrible she might harm Miss Higgins and destroy the girl’s reputation. She’d be forced to return to Cornwall in disgrace. “At any rate, I’m still working out the details.”
“I’m hardly what one would consider a moral, upstanding citizen, as you well know. But you’ve always seen yourself as a protector of young ladies.” Spencer paused as his brows knit together. “I find it entirely out of character for you to harm one.” He took her hand and leaned close again until his lips brushed her ear. “I’ll get rid of him. And Lydia. I’d enjoy doing so. Elizabeth need never know. They had the audacity to murder your husband and steal from my brother.”
“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 gohang. How dare he condemn her actions while simultaneously offering to garrote Lydia with her string of pearls for Marissa.Shewasn’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.
