A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (20 page)

“What is it?” the lieutenant asked.

“I can’t find her,” the captain admitted.
“Lady Sunderland has four retiring rooms. Two on this level and two
above. No one has seen either her or Miss Greywood in any of
them.”

“We’ll split up,” Brendan ordered. “They’ve
got to be here somewhere.” At least he prayed they were.

***           

Phoebe paced the library for what felt like
the millionth time. How much longer would she have to wait? Cordie
had said the library, hadn’t she? Phoebe pulled out an ancient tome
with a dark, red spine with golden lettering. Ancient Rome. Not
even remotely interesting. She slid the book back in place and
began her pacing again.

The door opened and she sucked in a breath.
Who, besides her, would go traipsing about the library during a
ball?

“Cordie?” a male voice called.

Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!

Phoebe bit her lower lip and started to back
towards the far side of the library. There was a nice little alcove
she’d noticed earlier, and it would be the perfect place to hide.
But then something caught her at the back of her legs and she
stumbled backwards, falling on her bottom. “Oh!” she cried, as the
wind whooshed out her. Immediately, she covered her mouth in
horror.

How stupid could she be?  Now he,
whoever he was, would surely find her.

At that moment, Lieutenant Avery stepped
around the corner of a shelf and stared down at her, relief washed
across his face. “Thank God!” He rushed forward and helped her to
her feet. “Are you all right, Miss Greywood?”

Unable to find her voice, Phoebe nodded.

“Where is Cordie?” he asked, his golden
brown eyes boring into her.

“Cordie?” she squeaked. What was she
supposed to do now? She couldn’t tell them where she was? That was
sure to land them both in trouble.

His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Yes, my sister,
your friend. Where is Cordelia?”

Phoebe gulped, shaking her head.

“Answer me!” he nearly growled.

Phoebe backed away from the lieutenant. He
seemed fairly dangerous and she didn’t want to be too close to him.
“I-I’m not certain.”

“You’re not certain?” he asked with a frown.
“Why didn’t you return to the ballroom?”

“I-I was looking for a book.”

“A book?”

“On Ancient Rome. I find the era
fascinating.”

He stalked towards her, disbelief etched
across his brow. “And I’m Julius Caesar. Where is my sister, Miss
Greywood?”

“I’ve already told you. I’m not certain.”
She turned on her heel to escape the officer. Every moment spent
with him, his ire seemed to rise and she’d rather not be around
should he explode like Mount Vesuvius.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he
demanded.

“Back to the ballroom. It was your
suggestion, Lieutenant, and I believe a very good one. So nice
making your acquaintance.” Just as she started for the door, she
tripped again. Blast her clumsiness! She stared at the angry,
upside down face of Lieutenant Avery, hovering over her.

“You seem to be in quite the hurry, Miss
Greywood.”

Phoebe swallowed nervously. “No, just
accident prone, Lieutenant.” She scrambled back to her feet and
started towards her exit, when the officer snared her about the
waist and pulled her against the wall of his chest.

“Where is my sister?”

“Un-unhand me,” she begged, prying at his
fingers.

His grasp tightened. He was too strong for
her. “You tell me where Cordie is and you’ll gain your freedom,” he
hissed in her ear.

Phoebe shook her head. Cordie needed time to
bring the marquess up to scratch. She couldn’t tell anyone where
she was. “I-I already told you. I don’t know.”

“I think you know exactly where she is.”

“She’s probably still in the retiring room.”
This was perfect. This was her escape. “I’ll be happy to search the
room for you.”

“You little liar,” he growled. “I know damn
well neither of you were ever in any retiring room. Now start
speaking or I’ll get out my horsewhip.”

Having seen the scars on Cordie’s back,
Phoebe believed him instantly. Her heart pounded and she took a
steadying breath. Why hadn’t Cordie come back for her? “Sh-she’s in
one of the parlors at the front of the house.”

The lieutenant did not release her as
promised. Instead he pushed her towards the doorway, maintaining
his position of half a step behind her. “Show me.”

Phoebe nodded. There was nothing else she
could do.

In the corridor, they bumped into the
handsome Captain Avery and Phoebe’s heart leapt to her throat. He
looked just as panicked as his brother, and she saw her chances
with him dwindle away.

“Miss Greywood, where have you been? Where
is Cordie?” the captain asked.

“Don’t listen to a word she says,” the
lieutenant advised. “She’s going to
show
us where Cordie
is.” He pushed her forward a bit. Obviously, the man still thought
he was on the battlefield and hadn’t adjusted to life in the
civilized world. Phoebe felt like a prisoner of war.

“Do you really think it’s necessary to
manhandle her?” The captain’s voice came from behind them.

“She’s already tried to run off twice. I’m
not taking any chances.”

Phoebe led them to the parlor where Cordie
and Haversham were holed up and tried to wrench herself free of the
lieutenant’s hold. “Please, you’re bruising me.”

“Tris, let her go,” his brother
directed.

The lieutenant freed her to throw open the
door, but the room was empty. There wasn’t a sign of Cordie or the
marquess anywhere. Both officers’ eyes bored into hers. Phoebe
shook her head in confusion. “But this is where I left them.”

“Them?” Lieutenant Avery barked.  “Who
was with her?”

“Tris!” the captain growled. Then he focused
his startlingly green eyes on Phoebe. “Who was with her?”

Cordie should be here. Was she in some sort
of trouble? Phoebe shook her head. She had to tell the truth. If
something happened to Cordie, it would all be her fault. “Lord
Haversham,” she whispered.

Both men’s mouths dropped open, and Phoebe
felt like the biggest fool.

“God in heaven!” Captain Avery blanched.

“You
left
her with him?” the
lieutenant demanded.

“It’s not Miss Greywood’s fault, Tristan,”
the captain replied quietly.

“What has she done?”

“Ruined herself completely.”

***

Brendan could hardly believe his ears. He’d
just happened to stumble upon the brothers Avery and Miss Greywood
when he overheard their conversation. His adorable Cordelia had
gone off with Haversham? His heart ached at the thought of her in
the marquess’ clutches. As worldly as she made herself appear, she
was actually a very innocent, naïve girl. But she wouldn’t stay
that way for long, if someone didn’t do something.

Memories of Flora after her lover had
abandoned her, rushed into Brendan’s mind. He’d rather be hung for
treason than let the same thing happen to Cordelia.

There had to be something he could do. If he
could just find her. Years ago when the marquess had taken Ella
Burke, he’d fled to his Yorkshire estate. Of course, they’d started
out in the county, and Brendan didn’t think he’d go that far away.
So the lout’s Mayfair home seemed the place to start. It was the
closest place to look anyway. He prayed he’d make it there in
time.

It was only a short distance from the
Sunderland’s to Haversham’s enormous home in Upper Grosvenor, so it
wouldn’t take long to arrive. Cordie sat back against the leather
squabs, immediately second guessing herself. Had she made a
foolishly impulsive decision?

Letting him compromise her was the quickest
way to the altar.

The marquess sat across from her with a
devilish twinkle in his light eyes. The sight made Cordie swallow
nervously. What had she gotten herself into?

“You look nervous, angel,” he said silkily.
“There’s no need.”

“I’m fine,” she lied and forced a smile to
her face.

“You’re stiff as a board. One would think
you’ve never done this before.”

Cordie frowned at him. What was he talking
about?  Escaping from a society ball or kissing a man to
fulfill the terms of a bargain? Either way she was nervous enough
and didn’t need his scrutiny. “That’s not very complimentary.”

His rakish grin widened. “My apologies. I
promise to be extremely complimentary in the future.”

The future. They
had
a future. Well,
that was something. It was what she wanted, after all. Cordie
ignored the twinge of pain in her heart and smiled in return.
Haversham was exactly the sort of husband she needed. He was
devilishly handsome and he’d leave her to her own devices, while
his name and position would protect her from her mother. She
couldn’t possibly ask for more.

An unwanted thought niggled in the back of
her mind.
She did want more
. It wasn’t Kelfield’s status of
scoundrel that had initially set her on this quest. It was the look
of love and devotion on his face that he reserved only for Livvie.
Being married to a scoundrel had its own benefits, but what she’d
truly wanted was for the man she loved to adore her the way
Kelfield did Livvie. Was it possible Haversham could become that
man?

Though in her heart she knew the answer to
that, she refused to acknowledge it even to herself.

The coach rambled to a stop, and Cordie’s
heart froze. Haversham climbed out first into the foggy night and
offered his hand to her. Shaking slightly, she allowed him to help
her to the ground.

“You’re as skittish as a kitten,” he said
with chuckle.

Dread washed over her.
A kitten
? Why
did he have to say that of all things? An image of Clayworth
flashed in her mind and she snatched her hand back from the
marquess. “I—um—I don’t think I can do this.”

His smile vanished. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I—um—I’m not ready, my lord.” Anger
flashed in his eyes, and she gulped. Was
this
the look Miss
Burke had seen all those years ago? Would he try to take revenge on
her as well?

“Marc!” a man’s strangled voice interrupted
them from a few feet away.

Haversham looked over his shoulder and
straightened in an instant. “Kelfield?”

Cordie stepped away from the marquess and
stared into the mist. It was Kelfield. He staggered a bit and came
to a stop before them.  He blinked when his eyes fell on her.
“M-Miss Avery?” the drunk duke slurred. “Wh-what’re you do-doing
here?”

“She’s my guest.” Haversham answered for
her, frowning at his friend. “What the devil is wrong with
you?”

Kelfield tried to straighten up, but wobbled
a bit. “I need a place to stay, Marc.”

Haversham waved him up the stairs. “Stay as
long as you want.”

The duke furrowed his brow, trying to focus
on Cordie. “Olivia wouldn’t want you to be here.”

Olivia wouldn’t want him walking the streets
deep in his cups either, but Cordie kept that thought to herself.
“Thank you for your concern.”

“
I’ll
thank you to mind your own
business,” the marquess growled at his friend’s departing form.
Then he turned his attention back to Cordie. “
We
had a
deal.”

They did have a deal. She’d risked
everything to save the man who’d just stumbled across Haversham’s
threshold. Cordie closed her eyes, praying for strength. “Very
well, my lord.”

“Inside,” he barked at her. “I don’t need a
bloody audience.”

She climbed the stairs and was shown into an
elegant salon, remodeled in the Greek style. What was she doing
here? This was a terrible mistake, but one she couldn’t see a way
out of. The marquess poured himself a liberal amount of whiskey and
swirled the amber liquid around his glass before downing it in one
gulp.

“My lord,” she began softly.

“Quiet!” he ordered, rubbing his brow.

So much for her theory that he wouldn’t be
controlling.

Finally he sank into a gold and white
brocade chair, closing his eyes and massaging his temples.
“
You
are a tease, Cordelia.”

She said nothing to defend herself. He was
right, after all.

“I thought you wanted this as much as I
did.”

“So did I,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and pierced her with
pained look. “And what do you want now?”

She gulped, afraid to tell him. “I—um—well,
I’d like to go home.”

Haversham pinched the bridge of his nise
between his fingers. “Come here, Cordelia.”

She stepped towards him and swallowed when
his eyes never left her. Cordie stopped before him and took a deep
breath. “Yes, my lord?”

“I don’t think I’ll get over you.” He
sighed. “It’s Clayworth, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly.

Haversham sat forward in his seat and
grasped her hand in his. “I’m at least owed my kiss, am I not?”

Unable to speak, she simply nodded. 
They had agreed to a kiss and she did owe him a debt.

The marquess raised her hand to his lips and
pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. Then he squeezed
her fingers and dropped her hand. “There. I’ll have Anderson take
you home. You’ll understand if I don’t accompany you.”

Relief washed over her and Cordie swiped at
a tear. “Oh, thank you, my lord.” She leaned forward and kissed his
cheek. “You are a gentleman.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather you didn’t tell
anyone.”

A gurgled laugh escaped her at the same
moment they heard an angry voice yell from the corridor.

“Where is she? Cordelia!” Clayworth
bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the house.

Haversham leapt to his feet, nearly knocking
Cordie to the floor. He caught her elbow and sat her in his vacant
seat. The marquess bolted to the salon door and hauled it open. A
split second later, his face met with Clayworth’s fist.