A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (18 page)

Her brother’s jovial expression vanished
immediately. “He’s dangerous, Cor.”

He couldn’t possibly be as dangerous as
Clayworth was to her. “He doesn’t seem like it,” she replied
quietly.

“Well, that’s just something else you’ll
have to take my word for.”

He knew
. He knew whatever awful thing
Haversham had done. She could see it on his face. But how could she
get him to tell her? By feigning complete innocence, perhaps?
Convince him that telling her was the only way to keep her safe.
That might work. If not, she could always resort to her newest
weapon against her brother—tears.

She giggled. “Oh, Tristan, I’m certain
you’re mistaken. He has a wicked reputation, I know, but he seems
harmless to me.”

Her brother narrowed his eyes on her.

“And I daresay I’ve spent more time in his
company than you have.” With any luck, she’d spend a lot more.

“Cordelia,” he began.

“I think men see things differently than
women,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I mean, look
at Kelfield. All you men think he’s wicked and dangerous, but I’ve
seen him with Livvie, Tristan. I don’t believe a more gentlemanly
man exists.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she figured it would
get her brother’s ire up.

“I meant it when I said I’d put a ball in
his skull, Cordie. You’re my little sister and I’d die before I let
him touch one hair on your head.”

“Oh, Tris,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Surely, you’re overreacting. I mean what could he have done that
is
so
bad? He’s always acted the perfect gentleman with me.”
That was far from the truth, but Tristan didn’t need to know the
particulars.

With a frown, he placed his cup on the small
table. Then he turned his attention back to Cordie, studying her.
Finally he heaved a sigh. “I love you more than anything, Cordie.
You know I’d never want you to be hurt, and I’d kill any blackguard
that tried.”

“No brother is ever happy with the man his
sister sets her cap for. Matthew Greywood has made Phoebe’s life
miserable.  And—”

“That’s hardly it,” he interrupted. “Russell
and I both like Clayworth just fine.”

She smiled sadly at that. “But I haven’t set
my cap for the earl.”

Tristan rubbed his brow. “Why not, Cordie?
He’s wealthy, well respected, seems besotted with you.”

Cordie took another sip of tea. When she
lowered her glass, she frowned at her brother. “Don’t you remember
how miserable he made Marina?” At Tristan’s nod, Cordie continued,
“I don’t want that to be me.”

“But you’re not like Marina, it might not be
the same.”

“Please, Tris, we were talking about
Haversham. Why do you think he’s dangerous?”

Her brother grasped her hand and squeezed.
“I became friends with a cavalry officer from Sussex during the
war. Lieutenant Colonel Oliver Burke,” he began as Cordie listened
patiently. “A decade ago, Burke’s older sister was betrothed to
Haversham. The marquess did something, I’m not sure what it was,
but Miss Burke called off the wedding on account of it. Apparently,
Haversham didn’t take kindly to being jilted and made to look like
a laughingstock before the
ton
, so he plotted revenge
against the girl.”

“Revenge?” Cordie echoed, caught up in the
story. After all, she’d jilted Captain Seaton. Would he plot
revenge against her? The idea made her shudder.

“Burke says he set out to destroy her, one
way or another. He forcibly absconded with her from a house party
and no one could find them for days. The act alone ruined her,
which was Haversham’s plan. She jilted him, and he was going to
make sure no one would have her afterwards.”

Cordie’s mouth dropped open. The poor girl.
She blinked at her brother. “What happened to her?”

Tristan sat back in his chair, a bit more
comfortable now. “Well, everyone was searching for her, naturally.
A friend of Burke’s older brother was the one who found her.
Chivalrous chap married her to keep the gossip down. Not that it
mattered. She never quite recovered, socially speaking, from the
ordeal. She and her husband live quietly in the country
somewhere.”

It was quite a story, not that it affected
her terribly. She had no plans to jilt him at all. In fact, the
faster she could get him to the altar the better. However it was
good to know what he was capable of, the way his mind worked. That
could be useful in the future. Cordie smiled at her brother. “Tris,
thanks for telling me.”

“So you see how dangerous he is.” Tristan’s
frown deepened. “Don’t give me heart palpitations. Stay away from
the scoundrel, will you?”

Cordie nodded. Another lie. Once she was
Lady Haversham, everything would turn out all right and Tristan
would forgive her.

***

Cordie’s three brothers were all fairly
different from each other, but the only thing they apparently all
agreed on was their abhorrence of attending societal affairs. Since
Gregory was safely ensconced in Nottinghamshire, he was the only
one excused from attending the Sunderland ball.  The other two
were not so fortunate.

Upon entering the festive room, Russell made
his way directly to the refreshment table, while their mother
sequestered herself in one of the gaming parlors. Tristan grimaced
at Cordie. “So I suppose you’re left in
my
care.”

“Sorry to be such a burden,” she replied
tartly, looking over the sea of people, hoping to catch a glimpse
of Livvie. It seemed unlikely that a society stickler like Lady
Sunderland would invite the scandalous duke and duchess to her
ball, but Cordie still held out hope.

“Miss Avery,” came the stern voice of the
dowager Marchioness of Astwick. “My darling girl, it has been
forever.”

Cordie turned around, gracing the dowager
with a smile. It was so strange that the woman had taken to her,
not that she was about to do a thing that would change the
situation. The astonished look on Tristan’s face was priceless,
however, as he stepped backwards and inhaled sharply. If Cordie
didn’t know better, she’d think her brother had swallowed his own
tongue. “Good evening, Lady Astwick,” Cordie greeted her with a
curtsy.

“It is now,” the dowager stated
matter-of-factly. “Where have you been keeping yourself the last
few weeks?”

“I’ve been in Norfolk visiting friends, my
lady.”

“Norfolk? Who would ever live in
Norfolk
?” the old woman barked.

Cordie stifled a laugh. A good many people
lived in Norfolk, but the dowager made it sound as if was the end
of the world. “Lord Malvern’s family, my lady.”

The dowager made an unpleasant face as if
she smelled something awful. “That silly Greywood chit?”

Phoebe was silly, but Lady Astwick shouldn’t
say so with such a derisive tone. “Miss Phoebe Greywood is one of
my dear friends. I would hardly call her silly.”

The old woman’s light eyes danced merrily.
“I do like your spirit, Miss Avery. Loyalty is a rare trait in this
young generation, even when it’s misguided.”

“Am I misguided?” Cordie asked, raising her
brow.

“You and I both know that Greywood girl is a
simpering fool.”

“Lady Astwick!” she chastised.

The dowager squeezed Cordie’s hand. 
“Your loyalty is commendable, Miss Avery.” Then she turned her
attention to Tristan and narrowed her icy eyes. “And who are
you?”

Tristan gulped and then squared his
shoulders.

“Lady Astwick, this is my brother Lieutenant
Tristan Avery. He’s just returned with the 45
^th
Foot
from Toulouse.”

The dowager’s expression lightened
incrementally as she assessed him.  “I assume, Lieutenant,
that you showed more bravery on the battlefield.”

“I don’t believe my adversary was as
formidable as you, my lady,” Tristan replied, blushing just a
bit.

“Ah,” the old woman began, looking over
Cordie’s shoulder, “just the gentleman I wanted to see. Brendan
Reese!” she bellowed.

A heartbeat later, the earl stood before
them and offered a slight bow to the marchioness. “Lady Astwick,
always a pleasure.”

“Clayworth, why are you wasting your time
trying to charm
me
? Miss Avery is right here, or have you
lost your eyesight?”

His twilight eyes flashed to hers and
Cordie’s mouth went dry. He was so startlingly handsome and she
couldn’t look at him without remembering his passionate kiss and
heartfelt proposal.

“My eyes are always on Miss Avery, my lady,
but thank you for your concern.”

The dowager’s eyes actually twinkled, a
miracle in itself. “Would you care for some advice, Brendan?”

If he was trying to suppress a grin, he
failed miserably. “I don’t believe you’ve ever asked that of anyone
before.”

“You may only dance with Miss Avery twice
without raising eyebrows. So I suggest you wait for waltzes and
make the best of your time in between.”

“What if I want to raise eyebrows?” he
asked, now grinning from ear to ear, making Cordie’s heart leap in
the process.

“You’ve already done so, with your attention
to the girl, Brendan. There’s no point in appearing gauche.”

“Wonderful words of wisdom,” Clayworth
replied, merriment evident in his voice.  Then he refocused
his dark blue eyes on Cordie. “Miss Avery, would you care to take a
turn about the room with me while I wait for the next waltz?”

It wasn’t even possible for her to refuse.
Not with the dowager essentially forcing them together. “Of course,
my lord.”

When she took his arm, tingles raced across
Cordie’s skin. Touching him should be avoided at all costs. As they
stepped away from the dowager and Tristan, Cordie noticed a
mortified expression on her brother’s face. Apparently Clayworth
noticed the look too and he chuckled. “He’ll be all right. She’s
not as frightening as she seems.”

“She’s downright terrifying,” Cordie
replied.

“She adores you, which is easy to see.” His
gloved fingers squeezed her hand on his arm.

Cordie glanced at the other couples in the
middle of the room enjoying a spirited reel. “On the contrary she
seems to adore
you
, my lord, and by extension me.”

He shrugged. “Such is the case when someone
has known you your entire life.”

Or not. Her mother had known Livvie since
infancy, and now she wouldn’t acknowledge her if they were the only
two in a room. “I had no idea your families were so close.”

“She apparently formed an attachment for my
mother when she first arrived in England. I’m certain mother would
have had a much more difficult time navigating the
ton
without Lady Astwick’s council.” He frowned when he said that and
looked out above the sea of people, seemingly lost in another time
and place.

Cordie had never seen him look so forlorn
before and she couldn’t help stepping a bit closer to him. Everyone
knew the late Lady Clayworth had doted on her children. “Do you
miss your mother?”

“I think about her every day,” he answered
in a cold voice that sent icy shivers up her spine.

Perhaps Lady Clayworth wasn’t as doting as
she appeared in public. Perhaps it was all for show. Cordie was
familiar with that breed of mother, and she squeezed the earl’s
arm.

“I understand Major Moore has returned to
Nottinghamshire,” he said evenly, changing the subject.

Cordie nodded. “He left right after the
duel. Do you believe Kelfield was hurt badly?” Russell had refused
to tell her a thing.

He looked at her out of the corner of his
eye. “You do seem overly concerned with every scoundrel in
Town.”

She scowled at him. “I promise not to throw
myself at Kelfield. He is married to my dearest friend, which is
why I’m concerned for him.”

“He’ll live. The injury was minor, and not
as deep as I’m sure Moore would have liked.”

“Barbaric behavior, duels.” She shuddered.
“I’ll never understand the male of our species.”

Clayworth laughed. “We’re not that difficult
to understand,
ma minouche
.”

“Why
do
you call me your kitten, my
lord?”

He stopped walking and stared down at her, a
lighthearted smile on his lips. “Because you’re adorable and you
make me want to play with you.”

Cordie’s heart stopped beating. She knew it
did. When he looked at her in such a way, it was as if time stood
still and no one but them existed. She almost sighed.

Clayworth dipped his head towards her and
whispered, “Among other things.”

What
things
? Her breath caught. The
way he said the words sent spirals of desire straight to her core.
It really was too dangerous to spend an inordinate amount of time
with him.

The first chords of a waltz began and
Clayworth grinned at her. “My dance, I believe.”

He whisked her out on the floor with smooth
elegance. Cordie felt lost as she stared up into his eyes, so dark,
so piercing. It would be so easy to give in to him, to accept his
proposal, to follow her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she’d do that
very thing. It was imperative that she remember who he was.

Controlling. He’d never allow her the
freedom she so craved. After only five minutes in his company,
she’d realized that.

Cold. How many times had she listened to
Marina bemoan his cool indifference? More times than she could
count. If she lost her heart to him, it would destroy her when his
interest turned elsewhere. 

“Why do you look so serious,
ma
minouche
?” he asked, as he spun her into a turn. “Of the two of
us, you’re supposed to be the carefree one.”

Cordie forced a smile to her face. “Just
woolgathering, my lord.”

His twilight eyes narrowed. “Do you think I
can’t tell the difference between your genuine smiles and your
fraudulent ones?”

Cordie gaped at him. How was it even
possible he could know such things about her? Her own mother
couldn’t tell the difference.