My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen Page B

me?"
    She thought for a moment. "He would have lectured her sternly until the poor woman felt like an utter baboon."
    "Lecturing is not my method."
    She met his mischievous gaze. "You charm your patients into compliance."
    "I see you are quite perceptive, Miss Lambeth," he said, smiling.
    "And I see you know what you are doing," Freddie countered, still clutching the blanket to her bosom.
    He grinned and turned toward the door. "I'll report to your guardian now." He turned back and met her eyes. "I'll look in on you again in the morning."
    ***
    Stacks no longer anxiously paced the cloister like he had done for nearly two weeks. Now he stood watering a clump of herbs growing in the quadrangle, coatless on this sunny morning. He needed to be with the sprouting, blooming, glorious evidence of life. To celebrate life. For now he knew Freddie would live.
    He looked up as Edgekirth moved toward him. "My ward grows stronger," he said flatly. "It seems I am greatly indebted to you, Edgekirth. How can I ever repay you?"
    "By sending her back," Edgekirth said through compressed lips.
    Stacks threw down his pail. "But you and I both know she's far too weak to travel."
    "She will regain her strength," the doctor said. "Even robust strength, I fear, would be no defense against your cruelty. Let her go before you destroy her, too."
    "You have once again overstepped your bounds," Stacks said, dismissal in his voice as he turned back to his herbs.
    Edgekirth stalked up to the baron. "I will not allow you to kill her as you killed Elizabeth!"
    Stacks spun around. "You dare to call Lady Stacks Elizabeth!"
    Edgekirth's posture slackened. "Never to her face."
    "But you thought of her as Elizabeth. You coveted her, did you not?" His flashing black eyes held Edgekirth's.
    The physician swallowed. "She was the most beautiful, vibrant woman I have ever seen. And you destroyed her, damn you, Stacks."
    Stacks turned back to his herbs, fighting the overwhelming urge to run his fist through the insolent doctor's face. "My man has been instructed to present you with a bag of coins for your excellent services." Edgekirth had been diligent and competent.
    "Take your damned money and go to hell!"
     

 
    Chapter 6
     
    Stacks closed the library door and settled back in his red leather chair, opening the thick packet newly arrived from his solicitor. He thumbed through the letters of application for the position of companion to his ward and counted fourteen. The first, from an orphaned girl fresh from the schoolroom, he dismissed. Freddie would need someone with town bronze to groom her, an older lady who had been through a few seasons. Another was from a matron near Bath. She would not do at all. He sought a woman who knew London ways. Tossing aside undesirable applicants, his attention was drawn to a letter from a Marie Dewhurst. He read on. The woman was the daughter of Sir Manley Moreland and the recent widow of Captain Michael Dewhurst, who had distinguished himself in the Peninsula. She had been presented the year after Elizabeth. Stacks' attention perked. Though her letter seemed more concerned with titled persons of whom she was acquainted than of herself, Stacks thought the widow would serve his purposes well.
    He began to see that a widow would be an excellent choice. Just as he was about to dash off a letter to his solicitor to instruct him to hire Mrs. Dewhurst, he came to a sudden stop, the tip of his pen poised over his paper.
    Though a widow would suit his needs, something told him that Mrs. Dewhurst was not the right widow. Why have a woman who had been on the fringe of the ton when he might have one who had been at its very core? His thoughts flitted to that long ago Season when he had found a bride, despite his reluctance to do so. The fair and lovely Elizabeth Binghampton had burst on the scene with her beauty and flirtatious ways, leaving an army of admirers in her wake.
    And everywhere Elizabeth went, her mousy companion, Julia Smith,