Any Wicked Thing Read Free Page A

Sebastian would know her anywhere.
    â€œI think it’s ridiculous.” He grabbed a whiskey from a passing footman. At least he was not forced to drink the medieval swill. “What’s your pleasure, Freddie?”
    She squinted through her veil at the tray. Impatiently, Sebastian snatched the hat from her head, so that she was now merely covered by what looked like a linen bandage wrapped around her hair and chin. The waiting footman averted his eyes in pity.
    â€œSebastian!”
    â€œFreddie, you haven’t moved from this spot in hours. You haven’t even been able to cut your meat one-handed. The hat is a disaster. Admit it.”
    â€œYou have no idea how long it took me to make it,” she said crossly. “A woman was not permitted to wear her hair uncovered. It was considered a sin.”
    â€œIt’s a sin in this day and age to adhere to such silly rules. Take the rest of that stuff off.”
    Muttering, Freddie unwrapped the linen to reveal a rumpled coronet of braids.
    â€œThere! Much better. Now. Champagne or ratafia?”
    Freddie rubbed her hands in nervousness. “I don’t know. I’ve never had either.”
    â€œWhat! Impossible. You really have led a sheltered life. Hm.” He tapped his chin. “Champagne is apt to go straight to your head on an empty stomach. I’d advise the ratafia.” He took two glasses and set them in front of her.
    Freddie took a suspicious sniff. “Apricots.”
    â€œYes, fruit. Good for you. How can one abstain? Drink up. I can’t believe you’re still sober. I know I’m not.”
    â€œAs does everyone else. You’ve been quite rude tonight.”
    â€œOh, don’t go all governessy on me, brat. Bad enough the old man is giving me the eye. What’s next on the agenda now that we’ve eaten the wild boar?”
    â€œIt was only Farmer Easton’s pig. Two of them, actually.”
    â€œYou never touched your bream and eel pasty.”
    Freddie shuddered. “I have more enthusiasm for the wardrobe of the Middle Ages than the menu. The frumenty wasn’t bad. You can’t go wrong with honey and raisins.”
    â€œPorridge by any other name. And impossible to eat with a knife. Just like my father to forgo the bloody forks for us peasants.” Sebastian set his elbows on the table. “I’m afraid I’ve had enough, Freddie. Of the food and the company. Oh, not you,” he said quickly, seeing her hurt expression. “You’ve been an amusing dinner companion, for all you didn’t eat your dinner. But I’m for bed. Care to join me?”
    Freddie blushed as brightly as her hideous dress. “Not if you were the last man on earth. And there’s to be a scavenger hunt. You won’t want to miss that.”
    â€œHow old are we? Eleven?”
    Just then his father tapped his crystal goblet at the dais and the room fell still. No wooden drinking vessel for the Duke of Roxbury. Sebastian leaned back as the duke rambled on about Goddard Castle through the centuries. He was so long-winded Freddie drank both her glasses during the speech, so Sebastian flagged down another footman for her. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes gleamed in the candlelight. The poor little thing was getting drunk for the very first time.
    He stumbled up when the talk got around to the scavenger hunt and its rules. Sebastian always broke rules when he could, and the quest for a mock unicorn held no interest for him. He whispered to Freddie that he was leaving, and she waved him away. She sat transfixed at his father’s nonsense, an odd smile on her face.
    When faced with the four stone walls of his little room, he had a desire to escape. He changed into an elegant striped robe, a souvenir from a grateful Italian widow, stashing his comforting brandy flask in a pocket. He made his way through the Byzantine halls of the castle by flickering candlelight, carrying a tooled