A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (21 page)

Cordie screamed as Haversham dropped to the
floor.

The earl’s eyes flashed to where she sat on
the chair. Relief spread across his features and he wasted no time
stepping over the marquess, crossing the room, and hauling her into
his arms. “Tell me you’re not hurt,” he begged.

Cordie choked on a sob. In his embrace,
she’d never felt so safe. She managed to shake her head. “I’m
fine.”

Clayworth held her back a bit and examined
her face, as if to tell if she were being truthful. “You’re not
fine,” he told her, a frown marring his too handsome face. “You’re
completely ruined, Cordelia. Your brothers, Miss Greywood, your
mother, and others are searching the Sunderland’s from top to
bottom. Surely you didn’t think your absence would go unnoticed or
that Miss Greywood wouldn’t be concerned by your
disappearance.”

She hadn’t been thinking at all. Cordie fell
back into her seat and gaped at him.
Ruined
? Oh, good
heavens! What was she to do now? Her mother would kill her.

Haversham staggered back to his feet,
holding a blood soaked kerchief to his nose, glaring at Clayworth.
“That is the last bloody time you’re going to hit me unaware.”

Cordie jumped from her seat at the sight of
him. “Oh, my lord, are you all right?”

“Do I look all right?” he snapped back.

She rushed towards him. “Lie down on the
settee and tilt your head back.”

***

Brendan’s mouth dropped open as he watched
Cordelia hover over the bastard, propping pillows under his head.
Her reputation was in tatters and she was concerned about
Haversham’s bleeding nose? She was the most infuriating woman he’d
ever…been in love with. Of course, she was the only woman he’d ever
been in love with, so he didn’t have anyone else to compare her to,
but still he was on a quick path to Bedlam because of her.

“For the love of God, Cordelia,” he barked,
“we don’t have a lot of time. How long do you think it will take
someone else to come looking for you here?”

She turned away from Haversham to face
Brendan, anguish alighting her face. “There’s nothing to be done,
my lord.”

“Of course there is,” he stalked towards
her. “You’ll marry me. We’ll leave for Scotland right now, before
anyone realizes we’re gone.”

She staggered slightly, and he grasped her
elbow, steadying her. Cordelia’s mesmerizing green eyes were wide
with surprise. “Marry you?”

Not exactly the way he’d planned on
convincing her, but there wasn’t a lot to be done about it now. “I
know,” he said with a self-deprecating smile, “I’m not right for
you. But you don’t really have any other option at the moment.”

He hated that her eyes flashed to Haversham,
so he quickly pressed his case. “You’ll send a letter to your
mother at the first posting inn, saying I convinced you to run off
with me. I’ll send a similar one to the Astwicks, asking them to
turn the tide of opinion in our favor. Your family will know the
truth, but it won’t matter. Your reputation will be safe, for the
most part. Scottish wedding notwithstanding.”

“I’d marry you,” Haversham said from the
settee, “but I think your brothers wouldn’t stop ‘til they caught
up to us. Somehow I don’t think they’ll try too hard if it’s
Clayworth.”

The marquess shot Cordelia a meaningful look
that Brendan couldn’t interpret. His jaw clenched at the sight.
What was the bastard saying to her? He sincerely hoped he’d broken
the scoundrel’s nose.

Cordelia glanced back at him and nodded.
“All right, my lord.”

Brendan heaved a sigh. Thank God. He’d make
sure she never regretted her decision. “We’d best be on our
way.”

Haversham laughed to himself. “I’ll tell
them you hit me when I tried to stop you. I should get to play the
role of hero just once in my life.”

Haversham could tell them whatever he damn
well wanted, as long as Cordelia was safely in Brendan’s arms, he
didn’t care.

Cordie was relieved it was dark in the coach
as they traveled out of London. She didn’t think she could take
Clayworth’s scrutiny at the moment. Of course, his eyes were
probably on her anyway, but since she couldn’t see them, it didn’t
unnerve her like it would have in the light of day.  Somewhere
along the way, she had completely lost control of her life. She
could spend the long trip to Scotland going over the events of the
last month in her mind and try to pinpoint the exact moment it all
stopped making sense, but really what good would that do her? 
The past was over and didn’t matter nearly as much as the
future.

Her future.

Thoughts about where she went from here kept
her eyes wide open as the London landscape vanished from the coach
windows behind them. What did her future hold? She would be tied
for life to the Earl of Clayworth. While he wasn’t exactly the
tyrant she’d always supposed he was, the idea was still a
frightening one.

As a young girl she had always looked up to
her sister Eleanor and her friend Marina. With three brothers
closer in age to her, Cordie gravitated to the older, more
sophisticated females whenever they were around. Marina had been
beautiful. Curls the color of spun gold, eyes like a warm spring
sky, and the perfect figure that left most men panting. She had
been elegant and graceful—all good things a countess should be.

It wasn’t even possible for Cordie to fill
her shoes.

Which was only part of the problem. If
Marina
had been miserable in the role of Clayworth’s wife,
how poorly would Cordie fail? Perhaps she would have been better
off married to Captain Seaton or even the Marquess of Haversham—not
that his belated proposal had been sincere, but it was a nice
gesture all the same.

“Are you awake?” Lord Clayworth
whispered.

As if it was possible for her mind to relax
enough for her to drift off. For a moment she thought about
feigning sleep, not terribly keen to begin a conversation with him.
Whatever he had to say could be put off. They had a long trip ahead
of them, after all. However, she was rarely a coward. “Yes,” she
said, clearing her throat.

“I know you don’t want this, Cordelia. I am
sorry it had to be this way.”

She was too. Sorry they had to race from
London to Gretna Green in the middle of the night, with her family
worried sick about her. Sorry her friends and family wouldn’t be
with her when she married. Sorry she would marry a man whom she
could never make happy. Would Russell and Tristan really chase
after them? Or was Haversham right? When they learned she was with
Clayworth would they simply let her go?

There didn’t seem to be another solution
that would protect her reputation, however.  And as
Clayworth’s countess, she would be out of her mother’s house. She
supposed she would always be in debt to him for both those things.
“Thank you for making this sacrifice for me, my lord.”

He sat forward on his bench and took both of
her hands in his. “It’s not a sacrifice,
ma minouche
. I want
you for my wife, as you well know.”

It was the
why
she couldn’t
understand. She wasn’t any prettier than any of the girls who had
tried to catch his attention over the years. She wasn’t more
accomplished or better connected. She
did
have that
grotesquely over-sized dowry. “Are your funds in order?” As his
wife she had a right to know that sort of thing, didn’t she?

The earl chuckled, and the rich baritone
sound filled the coach with warmth. “Get some sleep, Cordelia.”

***           

Cordie awoke rather suddenly when their
coach found a hole in the road. She sat up and blinked her eyes
into the brightness that spilled inside the conveyance and
stretched her arms. Sleeping in a carriage was not the most
comfortable thing in the world. Every muscle was sore.  Ball
gowns were not the most practical of traveling apparel either.

She clutched a quilt that was draped over
her more closely and looked across the coach at her
husband-to-be.

Cordie screamed.

Who was that? The man sleeping on the other
coach bench was not the Earl of Clayworth! Scraggily beard and mud
splattered clothes notwithstanding, no one in their right mind
would mistake this man for the earl. Had she been abducted?

The man’s eyes flew open in a panic at the
same time the coach slowed to a stop.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“W-Wilson,” he stuttered. “Sorry to frighten
you, milady.”

She wasn’t anyone’s
lady
yet, though
she opted not to correct the man.

The coach door jerked open and Clayworth’s
popped inside. “Are you all right, Cordelia?”

She pointed at Wilson, whoever the devil he
was. “Who is this man?”

A smile tugged at the earl’s lips. “This is
my coachman, Wilson. We’ve been trading off on the driving all
night.”

“I can take the box now, milord,” Wilson
said, moving towards the door.

“Have you had enough rest?” Clayworth asked,
getting out of the man’s way.

“I don’t think I could go back to sleep now
if I wanted to,” the coachman said with a shudder. “That scream’s
rattled me nerves.”

“Let me know when you start to get
drowsy.”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Clayworth climbed inside the coach, shut the
door behind himself, and settled in Wilson’s vacated spot. “You
never struck me as the screaming sort.”

Cordie sat back against the squabs, folding
her arms across her chest. “How was I to know you traded places
with your coachman? I thought I’d been abducted or something.”

His golden brows shot upwards and he bit
back a smile. “Abducted? You are the adventurous sort after
all.”

Wonderful, now he was mocking her. Cordie
glared at him. “As I was frightened, I hardly find the situation
humorous.”

He sobered up immediately. “There’s no
reason to be afraid. I’ve waited my whole life for you, Cordelia.
I’m not about to let someone snatch you away.”

He’d waited his whole life for her? What an
incredibly romantic thing to say. She grinned at him, despite
herself. Could his words possibly be true?

“How did you sleep?” he asked after a
moment.

Cordie tried to suppress a yawn. “Awful.
Coach travel is not conducive to a good night’s sleep, my
lord.”

“Sore?”

She nodded.

“Come here,” he said, patting the seat
beside him.

***

Cordelia’s eyes grew wide, but only for a
second, then she joined him on his bench. Brendan was playing with
fire, he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. She looked as if
she’d been delightfully tumbled already. Her pretty brown curls had
slipped from the perfect chignon she’d worn the night before, and
her pink gown was crushed beyond repair, or at least until someone
pressed it again.

Brendan had never seen a more beautiful
sight.

He adjusted his position so that he sat
sideways, and then turned Cordelia so her back faced him. When his
hands brushed her shoulders, she shivered, and Brendan smiled to
himself. He affected her as much as she affected him. It was a good
indication they would have a passionate marriage. Thank God.
“Relax,” he told her and began to massage her shoulders.

The soft moans and sounds of ecstasy that
escaped her lips as he ran his hands along her back and shoulders
made his cock stiffen in response. It had been forever since he’d
bedded a woman. Perhaps if he’d done so more frequently, he
wouldn’t be about to explode out of his breeches now.

Brendan leaned forward and barely touched
his lips to the slender column of Cordelia’s neck, eliciting a soft
gasp from her. He didn’t stop. He ran his lips along her shoulders,
squeezing her arms in the process. Her skin was so soft, like sweet
clotted cream and he wanted more of her. He wanted all of her.

But not now. Not yet.

She would be his wife in just a few days’
time. He could wait. At least he thought he could. She deserved
much more than a quick tup in his coach. She deserved a soft bed
with fresh linens, pillows, and a silky nightrail.

Brendan managed to pull himself away from
Cordelia and shook the images of her naked and waiting for him from
his mind. Perhaps Wilson would get tired soon.

Cordelia looked over her shoulder and smiled
at him. “That was very nice. Thank you.”

She didn’t move to the other side of the
carriage, instead she leaned her head on his shoulder and Brendan’s
breath caught. He lifted his arm and cradled her against him. It
was easier to resist her when she was sleeping. “Are you still
tired?” he asked hopefully.

“No. But you must be exhausted after
driving.”

“We’ll stop in Stamford soon. You can post a
letter to your family and we’ll get some breakfast. Wilson will
probably need a break by then.”

“You don’t need to press too hard, my lord.
I’m certain Haversham is right. My brothers won’t follow when they
learn I’m with you.”

Brendan could go forever without hearing
Haversham’s name, and he frowned. The night before, a lot of
questions had gone unanswered. At the time he was focused on
convincing her to leave with him, but now… “Why did you go to
Haversham’s last night?”

She tipped her head up to look at him. The
golden flecks in her green eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually
did. “I—um—well, I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Don’t you know what could have happened to
you?”

“He was a perfect gentleman.”

Brendan’s blood began to boil. She could not
possibly be defending the scoundrel. “Perfect gentlemen don’t
abscond with young ladies from balls and take them to their
homes.”

Cordelia placed her hand on his chest and
frowned. “Are you going to berate me the entire way, my lord? If
so, it is going to be a very tedious trip.”