Read Online Practically Wicked by Alissa Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

amongst your father’s papers?” he asked.
    “I’ve not gone through them all. I’m not sure we’ve found them all. My stepmother made a mess of things before her departure. Boxes in the attic, in the cellar, even in the stable. Some things have been lost for good, I’m sure.” Lucien grimaced and shrugged. “To be honest, finding and reading my father’s personal letters has not been a priority.”
    Max nodded in reluctant understanding. He’d just as soon not learn the contents of his father’s mail. He was, however, determined to learn of Anna’s intentions in attaching herself to the Haverstons.
    “She’s here,” Lucien announced suddenly, his gaze riveted to the windows overlooking the front of the house.
    Rising from his seat, Max saw the small black dot of a carriage that was slowly making its way down Caldwell’s long, winding drive. A spark of anticipation began to mingle with his unease and suspicion. There she was, he thought, Miss Anna Rees.
    Bloody hell.
    He’d not thought of the woman in years…not voluntarily. She did have a habit of sneaking into his mind at the oddest times. The smell of roses and baking biscuits had brought her to mind once or twice, and he’d caught himself staring at a terrier of some sort in Hyde Park a few months back and recalling her dream of owning a hound. And there’d been that brief and unexpected burst of fear two weeks back when he’d heard someone from Anover House had been injured in a fall from her horse. It passed mere seconds later when the injured party was revealed to be Mrs. Wrayburn, but in that moment before…
    Max cut off his line of thought with a scowl. Clearly, he’d thought of her more often and more recently than he’d cared to admit.
    “I cannot believe the Ice Maiden of Anover House might be your sister,” he murmured.
    “Is,” Lucien corrected as he made a failed effort at flattening his hair with his hands. “ Is my sister. And you’ll not call her that.”
    “Everyone calls her that,” Max countered. He craned his neck to watch as key members of Caldwell staff began to line up on the portico. “And for good reason.”
    “No longer. Let your London acquaintances know she’s a member of this family now, and she’ll be afforded the proper respect.”
    “It’s gossip amongst the ton, Engsly,” Max replied dryly. “No one is afforded the proper respect.” He threw up a hand to forestall an argument. “I’ll do my best to be of use to you.”
    Lucien nodded, satisfied in the way only those who assumed the best of everyone could be. He shot his sleeves and straightened his cravat. “How do I look? Presentable?”
    Good enough for the likes of Anna Rees. “You look like the Marquess of Engsly.” Max gestured toward the door and studiously ignored the sudden urge to fuss with his own appearance. “Let’s go greet the woman.”

 
  Chapter 5

 
     
      
     
    This is lunacy.
    Anna glanced out the carriage window at the passing front lawn of Caldwell Manor, with its lush green grass and towering hardwoods, and wondered at what size a lawn and drive ceased being a lawn and drive, and became a tidy field and well-tended road.
    She looked over at Mrs. Culpepper, who was slumped against the side of the carriage, face covered by a bonnet gone askew. Her companion’s skin had taken on a peculiar green tint over the course of their half-day journey, the result of Mrs. Culpepper’s susceptibility to carriage sickness.
    They were cracked, the pair of them.
    What on earth had they been thinking, sneaking out of Anover House in the dead of night to come here? What if her mother took it in her head to send someone after them? They’d run off with her third-best carriage, after all.
    What if the Marquess of Engsly was a complete loon and had taken it into his head to retract the invitation to Caldwell Manor before they’d even arrived?
    What if the invitation had been sent merely as a means to lure her away from the safety of