The Wicked Cousin Read online

  THE WICKED COUSIN

  Rockliffe Book Four

  Stella Riley

  The Wicked Cousin

  Stella Riley©2017

  Discover other titles by Stella Riley at Smashwords

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  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  PROLOGUE

  On a scorching August day in 1757 when he was eight years old, Sebastian Audley’s life changed. And though he didn’t know it, that change was to last for the next thirteen years.

  It began when he couldn’t find his brother. He and Theo had always shared a room. The discovery that his twin had been taken elsewhere in the house and that he had been locked in their room, sent Sebastian into a panic. No one had told him that Theo was sick … but he knew it anyway and had only one clear thought.

  Theo needs me.

  He shouted to be let out and screamed his brother’s name till he was hoarse; he kicked the door and battered it with his fists until his hands were bruised and bloody. And through all of it, his face streamed with a ceaseless cataract of tears. Eventually, when the door remained locked, he smashed the window with a chair and climbed down the creeper clinging to the wall. Ten feet from the ground, something gave way and a gardener found him, half-conscious, scratched and bleeding on the gravel.

  They put him in a different room after that and four of his five older sisters came bringing food he didn’t want. They tried to calm him and to explain what to him was inexplicable, refusing to listen when he yelled and fought and insisted that he had to go to Theo.

  He needs me. How can he get well if I’m not with him?

  In the end, they left him alone again. And because exhaustion was taking its toll and fighting did no good, he sat on the floor and rocked back and forth in time to the fury and fear that roared and pulsed like molten lava inside his head.

  Then, between one second and the next, it stopped … and was replaced by a dense, deafening silence that filled his brain. And that was when he knew he’d failed. Theo was gone.

  On the day of the funeral, everyone kept telling him he must say goodbye and didn’t seem to understand that he couldn’t. And after it, his eldest sister crushed his fingers in hers and said, ‘It shouldn’t have been Theodore. God should have taken you instead.’

  To Sebastian, numb and crippled by the loss of half of himself, this was the first thing in days that made sense. God had made the mistake that ordinary people made all the time. He’d muddled the two of them up and let Theo catch the putrid throat instead of Sebastian. Being angry with God helped a bit. Not enough to stop the howling inside him; but enough at least to stop him actually doing it … except when he was quite alone and there was no one to hear.

  Then new things began to happen. When they said he wasn’t to go to Eton but would continue his education at home, he hadn’t really minded. He and Theo were to have gone together. Since Theo couldn’t attend Eton, it seemed reasonable that he didn’t either. But the other changes that followed this one added up to something different. He was no longer to mix with the village children; he wasn’t to swim in the lake or take a boat out upon it; he wasn’t to climb trees or leave the grounds alone or go riding without a groom. The list of things he couldn’t do was suddenly endless. Bewildered and with the loss of Theo a raw, gaping hole in his chest, Sebastian thought he was being punished; but he didn’t know why he was because no one explained and no one seemed angry except Blanche, which was normal. Although Mama cried a lot, she still hugged him; Papa still sometimes took him up before him on his horse; and his other sisters behaved much as they always had – except for Trixie, who also cried a lot because Theo’s death meant she couldn’t go to London. It was all very confusing. So Sebastian worked hard at his lessons, did as he was told … and hoped that if he was very, very good everything would come right again.

  It was nearly a year before he began to realise that he wasn’t being punished so much as smothered; that the invisible cage surrounding him was there to stop him following Theo into an early grave. Snatches of overheard conversation spoke of something Sebastian privately called the Audley Curse; the fact that, though Audley men sired daughters in profusion, sons were in very short supply. There were always lots of nephews and grandsons through the female line but rarely more than one direct heir. And after five daughters and the loss of Theo, Sebastian’s father was determined that the seventh Viscount Wingham, like his six predecessors, would bear the proud name of Audley.

  By the time he was twelve, Sebastian started to feel like a fly being kept alive in a jar; at thirteen, having learned that being good changed nothing, he began eluding surveillance at every opportunity; and at fourteen, by then slowly suffocating, he came to the bitter realisation that he was a commodity. The only male bloody Audley of his generation and the next Viscount bloody Wingham – which was apparently the only thing about him that anybody cared about.

  He stopped himself going insane with the knowledge that it couldn’t last forever – that his father couldn’t deny him university as easily as he’d vetoed Eton. University represented freedom … and so Sebastian started counting the days.

  A month before his departure for Cambridge, his father cheerfully killed all hope. Sebastian was to go to Cambridge, yes … but not alone. He was to be accompanied by the vicar’s son who, but for Lord Wingham’s generous support, would have been unable to afford a university education. Staid, trustworthy Mr Brooke, decreed the viscount, would share Sebastian’s rooms and oversee their combined pecuniary affairs.

  Despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, Sebastian had tried to make his father see reason and even enlisted the support of Great-Aunt Flora – the only person Father had ever been known to listen to. But neither of them dented Lord Wingham’s determination to keep his precious heir alive long enough to ensure the succession. And that was when Sebastian saw that he was being condemned to three more years in the prison of his father’s obsession. Brooke’s hold over the purse-strings would ensure that. And the pair of them were even supposed to take the same courses – Classics, his father calmly announced.

  Gripped by a mixture of blinding anger and sickening despair, Sebastian took the one decision he knew he could control and said frigidly, ‘Mr Brooke can study what the hell he likes whilst serving as your jailer, sir. I, however, shall study Law.’

  ‘Law?’ His father eyed him with a sort of tolerant amusement. ‘You’ll soon tire of that. And what purpose can it serve?’

  ‘A way of earning my own living and becoming financially independent of you.’

  ‘But why? When you have wealth and a title awaiting you? It’s foolish, Sebastian. Fo
olish and unnecessary. Also, once you are done with Cambridge we shall look about for a suitable bride for you and then --’

  That had been the final straw. Rage had consumed him, his chest vibrating with it.

  He said, ‘No. We will not. Even if I planned to rush headlong into wedlock – which I don’t – it wouldn’t be to any female of your choosing. Also, the moment I have both my majority and my degree, you may be assured that I’ll go to the devil my own way and by the fastest possible route.’

  * * *

  Sebastian Audley left university with an Honours degree in Law, a superior ability at the chessboard … and A Plan.

  The list of things he did not have was much longer.

  He didn’t quit Cambridge with a host of happy memories or a coterie of firm and lasting friends; he’d never drunk himself witless nor gambled away a term’s allowance at cards. He hadn’t participated in any of the hilarious pranks beloved of undergraduates everywhere and he hadn’t visited a brothel; in fact, though he’d sooner his eyes were picked out by crows than admit it, he’d never even kissed a girl.

  In short, Sebastian had spent three years acquiring a particularly fine education … and nothing else whatsoever.

  The Plan, however, was designed to change all that … and an unexpected bequest from Great-Aunt Flora would allow him do it without the need to work for a living.

  Mr Audley packed his bags, shook the dust of Cambridge from his boots and boarded the mail coach for the fleshpots of London where he intended to make up for lost time.

  He succeeded spectacularly well.

  As the next few years went by, his name resounded across the length and breadth of Europe, from Paris to St Petersburg. According to the scandal-sheets, the Honourable Sebastian Audley was the devil of a fellow. A man who didn’t baulk at risking his neck, never refused a wager or challenge … and who few women could resist.

  The Honourable Mr Audley didn’t given a damn about the gossip and rumours or what anyone said. After thirteen years in the cage he was entitled to enjoy his freedom and do what the hell he liked.

  So he did.

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  CHAPTER ONE

  Serena, Lady Delahaye frowned thoughtfully at the letter in her hand and then looked across the breakfast table at her husband.

  ‘Aunt Louisa,’ she announced with a careful lack of expression, ‘says that Lord Wingham has suffered an apoplexy. He is not expected to recover.’

  ‘Ah.’ Charles abandoned his own correspondence and met his wife’s gaze. ‘And?’

  ‘And they’ve sent for Sebastian.’

  Laughter crinkling his eyes, Sir Charles said, ‘I imagine they’ve been sending for Sebastian, in solo and chorus, for years for all the good it’s done them. I doubt he even bothers to open the letters. I also doubt the family has the faintest idea where he is. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t set foot in England for the last five years.’

  ‘Apparently he has.’ Serena looked back at the letter. ‘Louisa says he shows his face at Audley Court once a year, stays three or four days then vanishes again. But if Wingham dies, he’ll have to come back for good, won’t he? And … well, you can guess what I’m thinking.’

  ‘Yes. But that was all a long time ago. Gerald has grown up since then – and Sebastian may have done the same. After all, seven years of kicking over the traces ought to be long enough for anyone.’

  Further down the table and from the opposite side of it, Cassandra caught the sudden interest in her younger sister’s face and gave a tiny, warning shake of her head. Inevitably, Olivia ignored it and said eagerly, ‘Sebastian, Mama? Wicked Cousin Sebastian?’

  ‘You are being overly-dramatic, Olivia,’ responded her mother, ‘and inaccurate. Firstly, one would have to say that ‘wicked’ is probably an exaggeration. And secondly, the degree of relationship between the Audleys and ourselves is so remote that ‘cousin’ is barely appropriate.’

  ‘But there is some kinship, isn’t there?’ insisted Olivia eagerly. ‘And I didn’t know Gerald knew Mr Audley. He’s never mentioned it.’

  ‘Doubtless your brother has numerous friends he’s never mentioned. However, I would be very interested to hear what you know about Sebastian Audley … and precisely how, in fact, you know anything at all.’

  Cassandra busied herself buttering a slice of toast. Livy never knew when to hold her tongue – or understood that Mama could always recognise an untruth when she heard one. If her sister wasn’t careful, the secret cache of scandal-sheets kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the old schoolroom would come to light. Mama might not be as tight-laced as some other mothers; but if she knew that Livy was reading stuff lurid enough to cause the paper to spontaneously combust, there would be hell to pay.

  Olivia shrugged and reached nonchalantly for the raspberry preserve.

  ‘From the girls at school whose older sisters made their debut when he was in London or came across him later, abroad. There were always tales about him and the wildly exciting things he does.’

  Serena eyed her daughter narrowly.

  ‘Gossip, rumour and scandal, Olivia?’

  ‘Not exactly. It’s just – conversation. You know what I mean, don’t you, Cassie?’

  Wonderful, thought Cassandra. Now you’re dragging me into it. But she said obliquely, ‘Girls always repeat things they’ve heard at home. Most of it is nonsense.’ And then, before Olivia could continue worrying the subject of the unknown and apparently scandalous Mr Audley, she rose and added, ‘Lord Pelham is to take me driving this morning so I should go and change my dress.’

  Her father glanced across at her.

  ‘Pelham, Cassie? Dear me.’ Charles grinned. ‘I don’t know whether he has defective eyesight or just can’t drive. Either way, you’d best get ready to hold tight to the side.’

  Cassandra shook her head and left the room laughing. Papa might be correct about George Pelham having less than perfect vision. He’d once stared into her face at some length, prior to stammering out a compliment about her lovely blue eyes. Being a kind girl and aware that the poor fellow suffered from nerves, Cassie hadn’t corrected him. But she hoped his mistake was the result of colour-blindness rather than galloping myopia.

  Ten minutes later while Susan was lacing her into a dark green carriage dress, the door of her chamber opened on Olivia who walked in, saying, ‘I don’t know why you have to be so stuffy, Cassie. Aren’t you the least bit interested in Cousin Sebastian?’

  ‘No. Until this morning, I was barely aware of his existence.’

  ‘Oh. Well, that explains it, I suppose. You wouldn’t know that ever since you left, he’s been the Beau Ideal at school.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Lord! There you go again. The particular gentleman all the girls agree is the one we’d most like to know. They must have had them in your day, too.’

  They had, of course – though the silly title was new. However, to the best of her recollection no Favourite had ever reigned for more than a year … whereas Olivia was suggesting that Sebastian Audley had inexplicably held the crown for two.

  Mindful of her maid’s sharp ears, Cassie said, ‘Since neither you nor any of the other girls can have clapped eyes on him, I don’t --’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Olivia flopped inelegantly down on the bed. ‘It isn’t his looks that make him fascinating – though he’s reputed to be quite handsome. It’s the things he’s done. He’s fought at least three duels – maybe more. He’s supposed to have caused such a huge scandal in Vienna that he was ordered out of the country – though nobody knows exactly what he did. After that, rumour said he was in St Petersburg, making love to the Empress Catherine and then --’

  ‘Stop!’ said Cassie sharply. And to her maid, ‘Thank you, Susan. I can manage the rest myself.’

  Susan curtsied and left the room with lagging steps. The second the door closed behind her, Cassie said, ‘For heaven’s sake, Livy – you’ve got to stop blurting out thin
gs like that! It may only be schoolgirl gossip but it’s the kind that could get you in trouble.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ objected Olivia with a shrug. ‘They say the Empress is very susceptible. And if Cousin Sebastian is as handsome and daring as they say, why wouldn’t she take a fancy to him? I’m sure no one could blame her.’ Olivia clasped her hands together and sighed. ‘They say he never turns down a dare or says no to a wager. That makes him sound awfully brave and romantic, don’t you think?’

  ‘No. It makes him sound stupid. Or it would do if there was the smallest chance of it being true – which, of course, there isn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean – it can’t be true? Why not?’

  ‘Oh – use your brain, Livy,’ begged Cassie. ‘Supposing he’s dared to put a pistol to his head … or wagered he can’t jump his horse over a seven-foot wall. Do you think he’d actually do it? Of course he wouldn’t. Or not unless he’s got some kind of death-wish.’

  Olivia brushed this aside with a toss of her head.

  ‘Those aren’t proper challenges – not like duels or carriage races or travelling the length of Bond Street without touching the ground or --’ She stopped, grinning. ‘And only fancy Gerald being a friend of his! Did you know about that?’

  Cassie had a sudden distant recollection of Papa raising his voice – something he very rarely did – to their older brother on the subject of wild company and unacceptable behaviour. Putting it aside for consideration later, she shrugged and said, ‘No – but you must know by now that Gerald never tells us anything if he can possibly avoid it.’

  ‘Well, next time I see him, I’m going to make him. You have no idea how envious all the girls were about me being able to claim kinship with wicked Mr Audley. Margot Claydon was absolutely green.’