Invitation to Ruin by Bronwen Evans Page B

clapped his large hands together. “Good, then it’ssettled. I shall go and give Mother the wonderful news. We’ll marry as soon as I have obtained the special license. Shall we say Friday morning?”
    Melissa clutched her hands tightly. In just under a week, she would be the Countess of Wickham. That hardly scared her. What turned her insides to ice was the thought of being married to the notorious Lord of Wicked. If she wasn’t careful, he’d undoubtedly break her heart.
    Anthony patted her hands, taking her silence for acquiescence. “Leave everything to me. I’ll get the special license organized and the vicar. If you require a new dress or bonnet, speak to my mother. She’ll organize any bills to be sent to me.”
    He opened the door and walked out.
       Slumped back on the settee in his mother’s temporary sitting room, off her bedchamber in Cassandra’s house, Anthony could not hide the hard edge to his features or the blatant coldness about him as he stared at the woman seated across from him. A woman the world called his mother but who was in fact a complete stranger to him.
    He sprawled in his seat with forced elegant ease, analyzing the Dowager Countess of Wickham—the woman who’d borne him but who was never a maternal figure in his life. An ease that did nothing to disguise the air of contained hostility emanating from his bulky frame.
    His mother sat stiffly in her chair, to all intents and purposes looking as if she were poised for flight. Her hair, although graying in parts, still shone golden in the sun just like Richard’s. Her eyes, still a vivid blue, reminded him so much of his brother it hurt looking at them. He envied Richard his mother’s small nose. Anthony’s nose dominated his face, as had his father’s. She was still a remarkably beautiful woman, if it wasn’t for the coldness radiating from her. He tried to make allowances for her. Being married to his father could not have been easy.
    He looked at his mother. Not once had he experienced thecomfort of his mother’s arms, or been given any feelings of maternal love. She’d lavished the little love she had on his brother. Richard had been hers while he’d been left to their father.
    “You have finally got your wish. It appears I am to marry.” Anthony tried to feign some measure of joy in the news he had just imparted to his mother.
    He shifted uneasily in his chair. He hoped he was doing the right thing—for both himself and Melissa.
    “Appears? Either you are betrothed or you are not. Which is it?” Her mouth set in a grim line. “Let me guess, you have succumbed to Lady Sudbury’s delights. I have watched her leading you around like a bull with a ring through its nose this past week. If she won’t bed you without marriage, she’s risen in my estimations.”
    “Mother, really,” he started in an offended tone. The fact she was quite correct in her deduction annoyed him somewhat. He was becoming too predictable. At least this announcement was anything but predictable.
    He took great joy in correcting her. “It is not Lady Sudbury.” He hesitated, wondering if she’d be pleased at his choice, not that he gave a damn. His mother’s wishes were never a consideration in anything he did in his life. “It’s Miss Melissa Goodly, Cassandra’s cousin.”
    A hint of a smile curled on the Dowager’s sullen mouth. “Caught in the wrong bed were you?”
    Richard. He’d already told her. His blood began to pound through his veins. Had they planned this together? Had Richard been working for his mother? Anthony recoiled at the thought. Richard professed he’d engineered this situation for Anthony’s own good, but perhaps pleasing Mother had been forefront in his mind. He briefly closed his eyes. God, could he trust no one?
    His features remained impassive. “News travels quickly in this household.”
    His mother sniffed. “Miss Goodly is not the woman I would have picked. Her temperament does not suit