A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (12 page)

It was obvious Clayworth wanted to marry the
girl, and that was fine with Marc. As long as she was in
his
bed at night, he didn’t care where or with whom she spent the rest
of her time. In fact, that might be the best solution. After all,
that sissy Clayworth never stopped his first wife from cuckolding
him. Why would he care if Cordie did? She could have the
respectability of marriage to that paragon, but the pleasure of
warming Marc’s bed.

He could hardly wait for Miss Avery to
return from Norfolk. Already he planned how he would welcome her
home. His cock twitched in anticipation.

“Ericht, do you by chance have your calling
card on you?” he asked as an idea formed in his mind.

“Aye,” the Scot replied, reaching inside his
jacket.

Naïve fool. Marc resisted the urge to
smile.

Cordie hoped she sounded pitiful as she
tossed and turned in her bed with her mother looking on. If she
could avoid attending Lady Dixon’s charity luncheon and could
manage to slip away to Lady Staveley’s, she knew she could discover
Lord Haversham’s secretive past. Of course, Lady Staveley would try
to warn her about the dangerous path she was on and Cordie would
listen dutifully, as long as she gathered the necessary
information.

Standing above her, Lady Avery pursed her
lips. “You seemed perfectly fine yesterday.”

Cordie sighed weakly. “I-I think the journey
home was too much for me.”

Her mother folded her arms across her chest,
the sunlight catching her large ruby ring. “Get your rest then.
Lord Clayworth will be by tomorrow and I want you looking your
best.”

Cordie moaned in response, this time in
earnest at the thought of having to see Lord Clayworth. How could
she even look at him after that kiss? How could she look at him
knowing they had no future?

Her mother’s frown deepened at the more
genuine sound of anguish. “Perhaps I’ll send for Doctor Watts,
too.”

As if that old man could fix what was wrong
with her. Cordie grunted noncommittally and rolled to her side,
patiently waiting until she knew her mother had left the house.

As soon as she felt it was safe, Cordie
retrieved a pale green muslin dress from her wardrobe. After
returning from Norfolk the night before, she’d decided on this
particular day dress, as it was one of the few she wouldn’t need
assistance with. Kid slippers weren’t the best for walking all the
way to Lady Staveley’s, but her half-boots would make too much
noise as she left the house, and
that
she couldn’t risk.

She quickly ran a brush through her tresses
and fashioned them in a simple chignon. Staring at her reflection
the entire time, she worried what would happen if her mother
learned of her excursion. If she got caught, she’d say she went for
a walk to get a bit of fresh air. As if the air in London was
fresh. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a better excuse.
Therefore she just had to make certain she didn’t get caught.

Cordie quietly opened her door, crept down
the hallway, and silently descended the servant’s staircase. She
pressed her ear to the door at the bottom of the steps, listening
for any activity in kitchen.  All was silent, and she sent up
a grateful prayer. 

After peeking through the door, she hurried
across the kitchen floor and out the servant’s back entrance. She’d
made it. She was safe. So far. Without hesitation, she scampered
down the mews and around to the front of the house.

She could almost taste victory, but as she
neared the street a man grasped her arm and stopped her in her
tacks.

Catching her breath, Cordie stared numbly up
into the Earl of Clayworth’s startling twilight eyes. She couldn’t
help but gasp. The fortnight she’d spent away from him didn’t
prepare her for the intensity of his stare. “Y-you weren’t supposed
to call until tomorrow,” she stumbled.

His eyes narrowed, and she felt a cold chill
creep up her spine. “Where are you sneaking off to, Cordelia?”

Cordie heaved a sigh. Arrogant man. She
didn’t owe him anything. It was easier to dislike him when he
showed her his cool, controlling demeanor. It was easier to keep in
mind everything Marina had ever said about him.

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and
leveled him with her most haughty look. “I have not given you leave
to call me by my first name.”

He didn’t even blanch. “Don’t evade me,
Cordelia
. Where are you going without an escort?”

Demanding, difficult, self-important men!
She’d had her fill of that particular breed in Norfolk, as the
captain had remained in residence throughout their visit. Now that
she was free of him and her mother, she wasn’t about to let
Clayworth  assume the role. “Who do you think you are, sir? I
don’t answer to you.”

“I’m only going to ask you one more time,”
he threatened.

“Or what?” she shot back. How dare he accost
her on the street and demand answers?

He stepped closer to her and lowered his
voice to an intense whisper. “When I said you’d have to throw
yourself at every scoundrel in Town on your own time, I didn’t
really mean it.”

She’d never
thrown
herself at anyone.
She wanted to slap him. She truly did. She settled, however, for
simply glaring at him. “Once again, my lord, you are not my
keeper.”

“Perhaps I should to be.”

She felt his gravelly voice all the way in
her bones, warming her from the inside out, but she ignored her
body’s response to his words. He wasn’t offering what she wanted.
She needed a lenient husband. It was obvious he could never be
that. “I don’t need a keeper, nor do I want one. Now, excuse me,
sir.”

Cordie turned on her heel and started
towards Curzon Street, which was pointless. Clayworth was right on
her trail. “If you’re going somewhere, at least allow me to escort
you.”

“I have hordes of scoundrels to throw myself
at. You’ll simply be in the way.”

He grasped her arm again, forcing her to
stop on the path. Cordie stared at the mother-of-pearl buttons on
his waistcoat rather than look up into his all-knowing eyes. Still
she felt his gaze on her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.
But when I saw you sneaking from the mews, I let my imagination get
away with me.” His voice softened, as did his old on her arm.
“Where are you going, Miss Avery? And in such a hurry?”

Slowly her gaze lifted to his eyes. Concern
was etched upon his godlike brow, and her heart lurched in her
chest. Why did he have to look at her like that? As if he was truly
worried, truly cared? Cordie mentally shook the thought off. “I was
just going to pay a social call, my lord. There’s nothing
nefarious.”

“Where’s your maid?”

She frowned at him. Really, it was none of
his concern. “I’m not going far, and you are delaying me.”

The tiniest smile cracked his lips. “You
have an awful habit of trying to avoid my questions, Cordelia.”

Not well enough, or he wouldn’t realize it.
And why did he insist on calling her by her given name? It was
making it quite difficult for her to think straight. “You
are
delaying me,” she repeated.

Truly, who knew how long it would be before
her mother returned.

“You should have your maid with you, or some
unscrupulous fellow might try to snatch you up, and then where
would I be?”

In that instant, there was nothing Cordie
could do to escape him. He would never let her continue to Lady
Staveley’s unescorted and she couldn’t keep arguing with him in the
middle of South Audley Street. One of the neighbors was sure to
notice that, and with all the attention Clayworth attracted,
someone was bound to mention it to her mother. Cordie’s shoulders
sagged. The best laid plans.

Then an idea occurred to her. She didn’t
have to get answers from Lady Staveley. Lord Clayworth seemed
determined to save her from herself. He must know what awful thing
Lord Haversham had done. She could probably charm it out of
him.

***           

A look of
something
flashed in
Cordelia’s beguiling eyes. The gold specks seemed to twinkle.
Brendan didn’t know what the look meant, but something told him it
didn’t bode well for him.

“My lord,” she said softly, “I think I’ve
decided not to go out after all. Would you like to come inside and
join me for some tea instead?”

The words sounded innocent enough, but there
was something going on in her mind. She was plotting, he just
couldn’t figure out what she was after. There was only one way to
find out.  Brendan offered her his arm. “My dear.”

When she linked her arm with his, Brendan
suddenly didn’t care what she was after. She felt
right
at
his side, like she was supposed to be there, like she was supposed
to be his. He knew she felt it too, because of her quick intake of
breath and expression of utter confusion on her angelic face.

A smile tugged at his lips. He affected her
just as much as she affected him. It was a heady emotion he’d
certainly never experienced before. Then a wild idea flashed in his
mind. What if he didn’t need to search for the letters at all? What
if he could convince the Averys to return them to him as a…wedding
gift? It could save him tons of time—time he could be spending on
his honeymoon. Besides, they wouldn’t want Cordelia painted with
the same traitorous strokes he would be if the contents got
out.

Apparently the time he’d spent away from her
had done nothing to dull the need he had for her. Truly amazing. He
would never have believed it possible.

Brendan guided her towards the front steps
of Avery House, noticing everything about her. How she shyly
watched him from the corner of one emerald eye.  How her pert
little nose scrunched up a bit, as if she was trying to figure
something out. How softly the breath escaped her mouth, which
brought his attention back to her perfectly shaped, rosebud lips.
The memory of their kiss radiated through his body and he would
have given anything at that moment to taste them again.

“Miss Avery!” screeched a voice from behind
them, breaking the mood entirely.

Cordelia’s grasp tightened on his arm, and
Brendan looked over his shoulder, discovering the rumbled Lord
Brookfield closing in on them.

“Miss Avery!” the viscount called again.
“It’s so fortunate our paths have crossed.”

Brendan frowned at the man.
“Brookfield.”

The viscount’s eyes widened in that instant,
as if he hadn’t noticed Brendan until that very second. True, in
Cordelia’s presence everything else did dim. However, how the man
missed seeing Brendan before now was a mystery. “Oh,
Clayworth.”

Cordelia’s hand tightened again on his arm
like a tourniquet, causing him to glance back at her. To look at
her, one would never know she was upset. Her features were
perfectly in place and she even gifted the viscount with a pleasant
smile, but her death grip on Brendan’s arm spoke of something
else.

Brendan frowned at the fortune hunter, as an
overwhelming need to protect Cordelia rushed through his veins.
“I’m afraid Miss Avery and I are in a bit of a hurry.”

The viscount blinked at Brendan. “But it
looks like you’re just arriving. I only need a minute of the lady’s
time.”

“Perhaps another day. As I said, we’re
pressed for time at the moment.” Brendan turned Cordelia back
towards her front door.

“Please!” the man’s anguished cry halted
them in their steps.

Brendan looked back at Brookfield, now on
his knees. “Get up, man!”

But the viscount’s eyes were locked on
Cordelia’s. “Please, Miss Avery, please marry me. I’ll be the best
of husbands. Whatever you want is yours.”

She sucked in a startled breath and Brendan
wrapped his arm around her waist. “I think that’s enough, sir,” he
said, leveling the man with his iciest stare. What was wrong with
Brookfield? Had he no dignity at all?

Cordelia’s brow furrowed as she looked at
the crumpled man before them. “I am truly sorry, my lord, but my
affections lay elsewhere.”

Brendan’s mouth went dry. With whom did her
affections lay? With him? Or with that bastard Haversham? After
their kiss, he wanted to believe that is it was with him. At the
same time, however, she was sneaking out of her house. Was she late
for a rendezvous with the marquess?

The door opened and the Averys’ butler, an
older man with a tuft of white hair, stared at the scene before
him. “Miss Avery! I thought—”

“Yes,” Cordelia began pleasantly, “I did go
for a short walk after all, Sanders.”

The butler frowned at her, but opened the
door wide. “Lord Clayworth.”

Brendan ushered Cordelia over the threshold
and directed the butler to close the door behind them, and noticed
that an entire conversation transpired between Cordelia and the
servant with their eyes. He’d love to know what that was all
about.

“That was dreadful,” she said softly.

That
was an understatement. Did men
fall on their knees before her on a regular basis? She had handled
herself well, despite Brookfield’s production. She’d been kind to
the dolt, who wasn’t the least bit deserving, in Brendan’s opinion.
Dropping on his knees before the girl with all the world to see!
What sort of man did such a thing?

A desperate one
.

Everyone knew Brookfield was penniless, but
perhaps the situation was even worse than Brendan had imagined. He
looked at the pretty girl still on his arm. If he hadn’t happened
upon her when he did, what might Brookfield have done to her if
he’d stumbled across her first? He cringed at the possibilities
that flashed in his mind.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Brendan frowned at her. “You asked me to
tea, did you not?”

“Yes, of course.”