Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Read online

  Something Wicked

  by Olivia Fuller

  This is an original work of fiction by

  Olivia A. Fuller

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2013 Olivia A. Fuller

  Cover design: Mae I Design

  1.4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  About Something Wicked

  Lady Mary Cartwright played at love like others played at sport. To her it was a freeing rebellion that had nothing at all to do with feelings and everything to do with scandalously giving in to pleasure. But when an intriguing new title holder arrives in town and shakes up her world, Mary is faced with the reality that love may be more than a game after all.

  When Gregory Howard, Viscount Lincoln, met Mary, he was instantly captivated by her wit and her brazen attitude. A decade later, their chance meeting has blossomed into a deep, supportive friendship in every endeavor of life and love. But when a new arrival to town catches Mary’s eye in a different way, Greg no longer feels supportive. For the first time ever, he finds himself sabotaging Mary’s arrangements and before long the friends are forced to consider something wicked: their true feelings for each other.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  Love and Other Wicked Games sample!

  For everyone who told me, “You can.”

  Because of you, I did.

  Acknowledgement

  Special thanks to Sam and Nick for taking the digital red pen to my manuscript. It lifted a great weight from my “soldiers.” This book would not be the same without you.

  The Wicked Game Series

  The Wicked Game

  Something Wicked

  Love and Other Wicked Games

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  Chapter 1

  London, July 1813

  Mary was lonely. And it was not a feeling that she liked in the least bit.

  It was quite an unusual feeling, to be lonely in such a large group of people, yet she was. Usually parties were just the thing to raise her spirits, but this time it was the party that was the catalyst of her dissatisfaction.

  There was nothing particularly wrong with the party—the hors d’oeuvres were delicious, the wine was free flowing, and the atmosphere was jovial—yet, try as she might, Mary could not raise her spirits and bring herself to enjoy the festivities.

  Gregory Howard, Viscount Lincoln and Mary’s oldest friend, had recently arrived back in London and escorted her to the party. He wasn’t keeping her company at the moment but this was not the reason she was lonely. Greg might not be at her side but he was at the party somewhere and she could find him and keep his company any time she wished. Mary was lonely because the person she most wanted to spend time with was not at the party and would never be at an event such as this again.

  That person was Angela.

  Nearly two months had passed since Mary’s cousin and best friend, Angela, ran off and eloped with a servant from her father’s household. Not surprisingly, her actions sent the social world into frenzy and it was only now, months later, that everything was beginning to calm down. Mary was not ashamed to admit that she initially joined in the social revelry that surrounded her cousin’s scandalous departure. It made for fantastic party talk and Mary knew that if the situation was reversed, Angela would have done the same.

  But as the dust settled, and the world returned to normal, Mary was no longer able to ignore this feeling that she was covering with idle gossip. She was alone. For the first time ever, she was alone and she was lonely.

  She had Greg, yes, but that was a different sort of companionship—he was steadfast, loyal, and upstanding. While those same things could also be said of Angela, their relationship was based on a different sort of connection. Together they had gotten in far more innocent trouble than should have been allowed. They flirted, they laughed, they had one glass too many, and they enjoyed life.

  But now Angela was gone and Mary wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

  The worst part was that it wasn’t even the loneliness that caused her be so restless. It was the boredom.

  The boredom was driving her mad.

  Mary stifled a laugh, narrowly avoiding spitting wine across the floor, at the thought of Greg taking Angela’s place. Greg might be many things but he was not convivial. No, he would not be able to help her this time, even though he may try.

  Mary was just reaching for a second glass of wine, sighing deeply, when Lady Thurston, one of the party’s hosts approached her. Though they were of a similar age, the two women had never met before, so Mary wasn’t sure why she was approaching her now. Whatever the reason, Mary wasn’t inclined to avoid her. Ever since Lady Thurston arrived in London last year for her marriage, Mary had secretly admired her graceful yet fiery demeanor—not to mention the beauty of her sleek raven hair and the delicate features of her olive skin that were the polar opposites of Mary’s own features.

  “I do hope it’s not my party that’s causing you such malcontent, Lady Mary.” Lady Thurston flashed her lashes over emerald eyes.

  “Oh, my.” Mary put her hand up against her cheek as if her feelings were actually written across her face. “Do forgive me. I assure you it’s not the party at all. This party is very lovely…” She trailed off.

  “Oh, lovely is it? What a pity.” A smirk crossed Lady Thurston’s face. “Truth be told, I was rather hoping you were of a similar mind so that I’d have someone to share in my misery.”

  Mary raised a brow.

  “Not that I wish you misery, of course. But still…”

  “Misery does love company.”

  “Why yes it does.” Lady Thurston clasped her hands together in front of her. “So, Lady Mary, what is it that has you so miserable?”

  “Oh, well, I’m not miserable…”

  “Forgive me, Lady Mary, I know we’ve only just met but I’m afraid I must call your bluff. I might even be so bold as to say that you’re lying.”

  Mary scoffed involuntarily and then smiled crookedly at her new companion. “That obvious is it?”

  “Oh, most assuredly so.”

  Mary scrunched her face at this assessment.

  “Not to worry. I have always believed myself to have a keener eye than most. I’m sure that no one has noticed it but me.”

  “Thank God. I must say that I’m not in the mood to be ‘saved’ from boredom tonight. Present company excluded of course, Lady Thurston,” Mary said as she nodded in her host’s direction.

  “I believe that once one person has called another person’s bluff then formalities are no longer necessary. A simple ‘Priscilla’ should suffice, I say.”

  “I much prefer ‘Mary’ myself… though I can’t say I prefer being accused of such wicked things as lying.” Mary smiled wryly. />
  “Lying is wicked?” Priscilla let out one sharp laugh. “Lying is probably the least wicked thing that takes place in our world.”

  “Is that so?” Mary’s eyes lit up as she eyed her new companion. “Tell me, Priscilla, what do you know about wicked things?”

  “Ah! I knew it.” Priscilla face brimmed with excitement.

  Mary raised a brow, suspicious but intrigued. “You knew what?”

  “I do believe I asked you a question first. A question that you are still avoiding.”

  “Oh, enough about me.” Mary shook her head. “I should like to hear more about you.”

  “You first, and then I promise I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know.”

  Mary exhaled sharply. “Are you sure you’d like to know what’s on my mind? I must warn you that my story is far plainer that you’re probably suspecting. I shouldn’t wish to bore you with it. What with all of this talk of wickedness I’m sure that I shall…”

  “Bore me? Are we not attending the same party, my dear Mary?” Priscilla laughed and reached out a friendly hand to touch Mary’s own hand. “I promise you, whatever it is, I shall remain perfectly attentive. Nothing you have to say can possibly be duller than the drivel that this lot considers suitable for conversation.”

  “If you insist then. But I warned you.” Mary pointed her finger at Priscilla. “What’s on my mind, you ask? Well, several things. But it all boils down to one thing, mostly. I miss my dear cousin Angela and without her I find myself quite lonely.”

  “Is that all, then?” Priscilla gave her a knowing look.

  “And bored. Without her, I find myself very bored indeed.” And then Mary reaffirmed herself. “Excruciatingly bored and lonely!”

  “So it is as I expected,” Priscilla said.

  “And what is that?”

  “You’re one of those kinds of women—those kinds of people I should say—as am I.”

  “And what kind of woman is that?” Mary was very curious and excited now.

  “A woman who is not satisfied doing only what society says should satisfy her.” Priscilla lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially.

  “This lot,” Priscilla gestured around the room, “is perfectly content to accept their place in life as a ‘lady.’ Even the ones who realize that something is off and unfair. You and I, we are not like them.”

  “Oh, yes. That.” Mary smiled with wide eyes. “I must say that this idea isn’t something new to me. I made that same observation about proper ladies many years ago. Though I’ve never met anyone other than Angela who truly understood exactly what I meant and how I was feeling…”

  Mary paused for a moment and shook her head with pursed lips. “And now that she’s gone I think more and more about the place of women in the social world—about my place—and what the future holds for me. I think about it more than I ever did before… Marriage, a family… I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I even want that! But what other choice is there for me?”

  Mary emphatically pointed at her chest before realizing that she’d given away quite a bit of herself to a stranger. But Priscilla just smiled softly and continued on, as if she knew exactly what Mary was getting at and exactly what she needed to do.

  “Tell me, Mary. What did you and Angela do to have fun?” Priscilla asked.

  “Well, the usual I suppose. Flirt, dance, tease…”

  “All perfectly acceptable actions of a proper lady, no doubt?”

  “Well, yes…” Mary cocked her head to the side with realization. “Why yes, I suppose… How absolutely awfully boring…”

  “Now tell me this: what do men do to have fun?”

  “A great deal more than flirt and tease, if they so desire!”

  “Yes, a great deal more.” Priscilla’s eyes were full of life. “And why do you suppose they do that?”

  “Well,” Mary thought about this one for a moment. “I suppose to fulfill their desires and needs. And to break free from the everyday tedium of life.”

  “Now tell me one last thing,” Priscilla pressed, “do you suppose that men are the only beings to have needs and desires? Or that they are the only beings to feel boredom and long for escape?”

  Mary laughed. “Well, of course not!” And now Mary lowered her voice. “If anything, I might even say that women feel these urges more than men!” Mary pondered Priscilla. “I follow your logic completely. But to what end? What are you getting at, friend?”

  “Do you remember what I said about wicked things?”

  “But of course! I’ve been waiting with baited ears.”

  Priscilla smiled. “Well, if women have the same urges as men—or, even greater as you surmise—should they not also, like men, seek to fulfill them?”

  “Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?” Mary felt anticipation brimming inside of her. “But what of your husband?” she asked Priscilla curiously.

  “Oh. That. Well, suffice it to say that neither of us chose this marriage. He is not much my type, nor am I his… We have an arrangement. We both do as we like…” She trailed off. “And you can do as you like too, Mary. Why ever should you not?”

  Mary began to wrap her brain around the idea. “Well, I—”

  “Mary! There you are!”

  Mary turned to see Greg approaching her at rapid speed, with a look on his face that was in stark contrast to his polished attire.

  Greg didn’t like these parties at all but no one would ever know that from the way he dressed and presented himself. His cravat was always tied with the most elaborate knot, his waistcoat and jacket were of impeccable tailoring and cut, and he’d adopted trousers as formal wear nearly the moment that fashion became acceptable. At one time Mary had laughed at his efforts to impress people he cared nothing for and he’d just smiled and candidly told her that blending in was the most passive form of rebellion.

  “No one can care if they don’t even notice you,” he’d said. And most of the time—Mary had come to realize—he was absolutely correct.

  So despite the fact that his true person was more relaxed and much less fastidious, Greg always took great care in his society appearance. The only contempt he ever let show was the occasional tightness of his angled jaw and the perpetual disarray of his hair, but Mary was certain she was the only person to have ever noticed that.

  He ran his hand through his chestnut hair now setting it into more disorder than normal before he turned his steely eyes back to her.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said.

  “Well, you obviously weren’t looking very hard…”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ve been right here in the same spot. All night. Alone.”

  “Alone are you? Is that what you think of our esteemed hosts?” Greg now directed his speech at Lady Thurston as he noticed who Mary was spending her time with. “Forgive us, Lady Thurston. It is unfortunate, but sometimes innocent bystanders fall victim to our—our—” Greg circled his hand in the air as he fished for the words.

  “Rows?”

  “Yes, thank you,” he said to Mary. And then to Lady Thurston, “Rows. Sometimes innocent bystanders get drawn in. Forgive us.”

  Mary saw a glint in Lady Thurston’s eyes. “Call me Priscilla, and by all means… continue.”

  “And what if I don’t want to continue?” Mary crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Greg.

  “Oh, but I know that you do…” Greg said as he narrowed his eyes.

  “Do you now?” Mary answered with a smirk.

  Greg twisted his mouth. “Of course. I know what you like.”

  Priscilla let out a little squeak. Both Mary and Greg raised a brow as they looked at her.

  “What do you want, Greg? I was only just getting to know my new friend and—”

  “Well, I thought perhaps to have a few enjoyable moments tonight—forgive me again, Lady Thurston… Priscilla—”

  Priscilla nodded her head dismi
ssively at his apology and he continued. “I hadn’t thought anything could be worse than listening to Lord Sheffield chatter on about the breeding practices of livestock, but it appears I was wrong.” He gave Mary a reproachful look.

  “You don’t mean that,” Mary laughed.

  “Oh, don’t I?”

  “No,” Mary chuckled. “No, of course you don’t”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because I know you too.” Mary said with a slight sway of her body.

  “Infuriating woman,” Greg mumbled with a shake of the head.

  Mary smiled. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “No. I would not,” he conceded as he returned her smile.

  And with that Greg sighed heavily and kissed Mary softly on the top of her head. “As ever my dear, your presence is a breath of fresh air but I told Lord Sheffield I was only looking for a drink. I suppose it’s time to learn more about breeding practices… Perhaps this time I will just stop talking and start nodding.”

  Greg and Mary shared the secret smile of a mutual memory before he nodded to both women and then left them alone again.

  “And who was that?” Priscilla inquired with a song in her voice.

  “That’s Greg,” Mary answered flippantly.

  “Well, I caught that…”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “I didn’t!” Priscilla said matter-of-factly.

  “Yes you did,” Mary shot back with a confused lift of her brow as Priscilla just continued to stare at her wordlessly. “Then what did you ask?”

  “Who is he?” Priscilla asked with a twinkle in her eyes as she punctuated each word.

  Mary shrugged and slapped her hands against her side. “That’s exactly what you just asked! And I told you… that’s Greg.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  Priscilla opened her eyes wider as if to press Mary on.

  “And he’s my oldest and dearest friend. We’ve been close for years…”

  “And?” Priscilla pressed again.

  “And nothing! What are you getting at, Priscilla?” Mary was confused and frustrated now.