A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (2 page)

The duke shrugged. “I told you, Sarah is
free to make her own choices.”

“I still can’t account for you just giving
her up.  Doesn’t seem like you at all.”

“Well, times change.”

“Ah, Kelfield, there you are,” came the deep
voice of Commander Simon Greywood from behind them.  “Ready
for tonight?”

That sounded promising. “What’s tonight?”
Marc asked, rising from his seat to shake Greywood’s hand.

“Nothing,” Kelfield answered, though he was
drowned out by the commander’s reply.

“Caroline Staveley’s ball, of course.”

Marc fell back on the settee with a laugh,
beaming at the duke. “You?  A ball?”

“It’s for Olivia,” Kelfield growled.

Marc’s laughter echoed off the walls of the
club.  “God, Kelfield! You’ve turned soft. Married a
fortnight, and she’s already wrapped you around her little finger.”
Which was something Marc had never allowed to happen to
himself.  Not even his late wife ever attempted to dictate his
entertainments.

It would be vastly amusing to watch the new
duchess lead Kelfield around by his prick. Though Marc hadn’t
received an invitation to Caroline Staveley’s ball—most likely an
oversight on her part—he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Cordie could hardly believe her good fortune
as she entered Lady Staveley’s ballroom.  She’d managed to get
through the entire day without her mother scolding her.  Of
course, she’d been on her best behavior—actually she’d been better
than her best. After all she couldn’t miss this opportunity.

Thankfully the Staveley ball was a huge
success. Lords and ladies of all shapes and sizes were crammed into
every conceivable spot. None of her mother’s events had ever been
considered a crush, not compared to
this
anyway. Apparently
all of the
ton
was curious about Livvie and Kelfield.

Lady Staveley in all her brilliance, or
perhaps dumb luck, had several game rooms set up, right off the
ballroom.  Thank heavens! Loo was her mother’s particular
weakness, and Cordie felt confident Lady Avery would sit down at
one of the tables, leaving her free to find Livvie.

Her mother glanced around the room and
smiled. “Apparently it’s a good thing we’ve come. Everyone is
here.”

Cordie nodded her head. “Look, Mama, there’s
Miss Greywood and Lady Felicity. May I go see my friends?”

After glancing at one of the gaming parlors,
Lady Avery turned her eyes on Cordie. “No Olivia,” she ordered

“You wound me, Mama. I gave my word,” she
said with feigned sincerity.

Her mother’s gaze raked her up and down.
Finally she nodded her head. “Very well, Cordelia. I think I’ll
play a little Loo, but I’ll check on you periodically.”

Once her mother got sucked in to a table,
she’d be lost for the rest of the night. Cordie had no doubt. So,
she smiled serenely and nodded. “Do enjoy yourself, Mama.”

Lady Avery started for the closest parlor,
but Cordie stood rooted to the spot until her mother’s bobbing,
plum ostrich feather had completely disappeared from view. 
After that she silently counted to ten, then nonchalantly strode
across the floor, peeked into the room her mother had entered, and
watched her take a seat at one of the tables. 

Victory was at hand.

Her mother wouldn’t emerge until it was time
to go home—she never did.  Cordie’s hopes for the evening
soared. With a sly grin, she quickly crossed the room to Olivia’s
side.

Olivia Everett, the Duchess of Kelfield,
looked exquisite.  She was wearing a copper gown that
shimmered under the chandelier light, complementing her auburn hair
and hazel eyes perfectly. Married ladies got to wear gowns such as
this.  Cordie needed to get married and get rid of her own
wardrobe, which consisted entirely of simple dresses, like the fern
green one she wore this evening.

As soon as they were in arm’s length of each
other, the two embraced as if they’d been separated a
lifetime.  “Livvie!” Cordie gushed, squeezing her
tightly.  “I feel like it’s been forever.  How are
you?  Is Kelfield treating you well?”

Livvie blushed at the question, but nodded
her head.  “I couldn’t be happier, Cordie.  Truly. 
Alexander is—”

“Alexander is what?” Kelfield asked as he
came up behind his wife, resting his hand on her shoulder. 
His sinful grey eyes twinkled as they landed on Olivia, and from
where Cordie stood she could feel heat radiating off the two of
them. What she wouldn’t give to have the perfect man look at her
like that.

Livvie turned to face Kelfield, beaming up
at him, and linked her arm with his.  “Alexander is perfect,
of course.”

The duke chuckled and laid his free hand on
his wife’s.  “Sweetheart, don’t tell
everyone
. 
I’ve a reputation to protect, you know.”

Cordie nearly sighed. They were so in
love.  Deeply.  Completely.  She smiled at the happy
couple, wishing that someday she could be as lucky as they
appeared.  Though she would like to skip the scandal part. Her
mother would kill her on the spot were she caught in the
compromising position Olivia had been.  But she wanted
everything else.

“Alexander,” Livvie began softly, “Cordie
and I never get any time alone anymore.  Do you mind
terribly?”

The duke removed his hand from his wife,
stepped away, and winked at her.  “Of course not,
sweetheart.”  Then he smiled at Cordie.  “I’m only
leaving her in
your
care.  Don’t let any blackguards or
scoundrels near her.”

Livvie giggled.  “Go on with you. 
I only have a fondness for
my
scoundrel, as you well
know.”

After Kelfield disappeared into the crowd,
Livvie turned her attention back to Cordie, smiling.  “I am so
glad to see you.  But won’t your mother be furious if she
learns you’ve been associating with
that scandalous
duchess
?”

“Of course she will,” Cordie answered
honestly. “So we’d best make it worth our while.”

“Oh bother!” Livvie whispered with a
frown.  “Don’t look now, but Lord Brookfield is headed our
way.  His eyes are on you, as usual.”

Cordie groaned.  Viscount Brookfield
was a fortune hunter, nearly twice her age, and he smelled like the
inside of her brothers’ house slippers.  Unfortunately, he’d
set his sights on Cordie at the end of last season, or rather on
her increased dowry, since her mother was concerned she would never
find a proper husband. Brookfield, however, did not qualify as
proper husband material in either Lady Avery’s eyes or her own.

“My darling girls!” came Lady Staveley’s
voice from behind them. “I am so happy you’re both here.”

Cordie adored Caroline, Viscountess
Staveley, and had for years.  She was everything Cordie
aspired to be.  Clever. Confident. Constant. And doggedly
loyal.

“Caro,” Livvie whispered behind her fan,
“you must get rid of Lord Brookfield.  He’ll try to monopolize
Cordelia.”

Lady Staveley frowned at the approaching
viscount.  “I don’t even recall inviting him.  No matter,
I’ll take care of it.”

As the man reached them, Lady Staveley
smiled beatifically.  “My darling Brookfield,” she
gushed.  “Lady Astwick, the dowager that is, was just asking
me about you.”

“Indeed?” The viscount gulped.

Cordie almost felt sorry for him. 
Almost.  No one ever wanted to deal with the dowager Lady
Astwick.  A more frightening dragon didn’t exist.

“Oh, yes!” Lady Staveley assured him. 
“In fact, my lord, I promised her ladyship that I would send you
right over to her as soon as I saw you.”

“You did?” he squeaked.

“I did.  She is there in the corner.”
Lady Staveley gestured to the other side of the room where many
widows lined the wall.  “Do you see her?”

Brookfield’s face turned white.  He’d
most assuredly seen the widowed marchioness, and he nodded
sullenly.  “Indeed, I do.”

“Splendid.” Lady Staveley clapped her hands
together.  “Do go on, my lord. I would hate to keep her
ladyship waiting.”

Brookfield spun on his heels and started
across the room, his head hung low, like a man headed to the
gallows.

Triumphantly, Lady Staveley turned back to
Cordie and Livvie.  “Well, that’s over.  Now then—” she
looked Cordie up and down— “no Brookfield for you, darling.  I
shall endeavor to find you a handsome gentleman by the end of the
evening.”

Cordie found herself laughing. “Lady
Staveley, that is not necessary in the—”

“Caroline.” A rich, baritone voice floated
over Cordie’s shoulder.

She turned, instinctively, to see Lord
Clayworth standing behind, and Cordie sucked in a surprised
breath.  The earl was exceedingly handsome with sandy blond
hair lying perfectly in place and blue eyes so dark one could
mistake them for a twilight sky.  He had a perfect
aristocratic nose and a strong chin. 

Lord Adonis. 

That’s how many women of the
ton
referred to Clayworth, generally followed by a sigh. But not
Cordie. His beauty was only skin deep. She knew all about the
gorgeous earl, and thought it a shame such a striking man should be
as unfeeling as a granite statue.   No one, however,
seemed to know how miserably Clayworth had treated his late
wife.  They all thought he was a devoted husband, still
mourning Marina long after her death, but Cordie knew
better. 

Cordie knew the truth. 

She would be surprised if Clayworth ever
thought about his wife or their daughter, both of whom died in
childbirth, while the earl had been somewhere else.

Throughout her volatile marriage, Marina had
often complained about the earl to Cordelia’s older sister Eleanor,
and Cordie had often eavesdropped on the conversations. 
Though all of that was many years ago, when she was still in the
schoolroom.

“Brendan!” Lady Staveley’s smile grew wide
as her eyes fell on the earl.  “Darling, I am so glad you
found time to attend my little ball.”

Clayworth raised one golden brow
mockingly.  “You didn’t really give me much of a choice.”

Lady Staveley laughed and tucked her hand
around Clayworth’s arm.  “Darling, you know my cousin, the
duchess, of course.  But have you met Miss Cordelia
Avery?”

More than once, Cordie thought
miserably.

“No.  I don’t believe I’ve had the
pleasure,” Clayworth drawled.  Though his voice seemed less
than pleased.

Cordie frowned.  He didn’t recall
her?  Honestly, they’d been introduced many times over the
years, her sister being his wife’s closest friend and
all. 

Lady Staveley positively glowed. “Then allow
me the honors.  Lord Clayworth, Miss Cordelia Avery of
Nottinghamshire.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,
Miss Avery.”

 “The pleasure is all mine,” she
replied airily.  There was no point in letting the man’s
rudeness destroy her evening.  Not when mother was playing Loo
and she could spend time catching up with Livvie. 

She started to reach for Livvie’s arm, when
Lady Staveley tapped Clayworth’s chest with her fan. 
“Darling, you never dance.  Might I persuade you to take to
the floor this evening?”

The earl glared, momentarily, at Lady
Staveley. Then the look of irritation vanished, as if it had never
been there.  “Yes, of course, Caroline.”  His eyes swept
across Livvie and then Cordie.  “Miss Avery, may I see your
dance card?”

Her dance card?  Lord Adonis wanted to
dance with
her
?  All eyes were on Cordie, so she raised
her wrist for the earl, where her dance card and small pencil
dangled.  Then he scribbled his name for the next song—which,
unfortunately, happened to be a waltz.

***

Brendan only selected Miss Avery due to her
proximity to Caroline, when she very politely demanded he dance,
and the fact that the pretty, dark haired girl was
not
the
Duchess of Kelfield. He’d seen the possessive look on the duke’s
face just moments before, and he had no desire to deal with the
girl’s depraved husband. That bit of melodrama he could avoid.

So by default, Miss Avery would have to
do.

Brendan was surprised that, when the girl
frowned at him, her pert little nose scrunched up as he scrawled
his name on her card.  He stared at her, trying to figure out
why her pretty, green eyes darkened to the color of a forest at
dusk as she looked at him.

Then the music began and he offered her his
arm, which she took grudgingly. How odd. Most girls and their
mothers generally tried to grab his attention, not that he ever
wanted it, but he didn’t remember any young miss ever scowling at
him before.

He noticed immediately Miss Avery fit nicely
in his arms, which was a strange thought.  Probably any woman
would fit nicely in his arms. It had been so long since he’d danced
with one, he just couldn’t remember.

“Why the quizzical look, Miss Avery?” he
finally asked.

She tilted her head to one side and the
golden flecks in her green eyes sparkled with an emotion Brendan
didn’t understand.  “You really
don’t
remember me?”

On his life, he’d never met the girl
before.  She was either daft or quite confused.  “Should
I?”

“My sister was
Eleanor
Avery, before
she married,” she remarked with exasperation, as if that answered
his question.  It did not.

Brendan shook his head at the pretty
girl.  It was too bad that she was obviously deranged. 
“I see.  And is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Miss Avery’s face turned a bit pink and she
opened her mouth a few times, like a fish, as if she was going to
say something but thought the better of it.  Finally she shook
her head.  “I suppose not, my lord.”

Brendan raised his brow in question. There
was something else she’d wanted to say, he was sure of it. As he
led her in a turn, he studied her pretty face, certain he’d never
laid eyes on the girl before in his life. She was very lovely. He
would have remembered her. “You are close to the duchess?” he asked
casually.