A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (37 page)

“You really did cause them quite a bit of
trouble,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.  “I
hope you’re satisfied.”

Loyal to the last, even when Clayworth was
acting the role of a dim-witted bastard. Marc shook his head. “It’s
hardly my fault. I came to talk some sense into him.”

Lady Staveley snorted. “Everywhere you go,
carnage follows, Lord Haversham. Forgive me if I don’t believe that
you have anyone’s interests but your own in mind.” She stepped
around the desk and a piece of foolscap fluttered to the floor in
front of her.

She stopped to scoop it up and she stumbled
backwards when her eyes landed on the page. Marc rushed forward and
caught her elbow to keep her from crashing to the carpet. “Are you
all right?”

She clutched the paper to her chest and
nodded.

For all that she was an excellent schemer,
her ashen face and surprised eyes failed her this time. Marc pried
the paper from her grasp and scanned the note. What could Cordie
have done that would cost twenty thousand pounds
to keep quiet?

“He’s being blackmailed,” Lady Staveley
whispered.

“It would appear that is true,” Marc agreed,
while his mind tried to make sense of the revelation. What sort of
trouble was Cordie in? His pulse pounded viciously in his ears. He
spotted three other notes by the same hand on the desk behind the
viscountess and quickly read them.

“He’s asked for different amounts and I
don’t see where money is to be sent,” Lady Staveley said at his
side.

“Most strange,” he added. “I can’t imagine
what she could have done…”

“I’ve known the girl most of her life. The
most scandalous thing she’s ever done is run off to Scotland to
marry Clayworth.”

There had to be something else. Something
that wasn’t public knowledge. Maybe something to do with that
enormous dowry. Marc placed the note back on Clayworth’s desk and
quickly scanned all four one more time. “I’m going to find out what
it is.”

“To what end?” Lady Staveley frowned at him.
She’d never thought highly of him and his next words weren’t about
to change her opinion, not that he cared.

“To kill the bastard who’s trying to hurt
her.”

Lady Staveley nodded solemnly. “That does
sound like a good plan.”

Marc reared back from her, his mouth open
wide. He would never have thought of Lady Staveley as the
blood-thirsty type.  She smoothed the letters back in place,
as though they had never been touched. “Where do you propose we
begin?”

***           

Cordie was certain she was an abysmal guest.
Livvie had been very understanding over the last fortnight. She
hadn’t pushed for information, and for that Cordie would always be
thankful. She climbed out of bed, unable to sleep, and thought that
perhaps an old, boring tome from the library would help her fall
asleep.

Silently, she padded to the first floor and
down the main corridor.

“I’d like to go straight to Town and hand
Clayworth his ass,” the duke’s voice boomed from inside his study,
which immediately caught Cordie’s attention.

“Alex!” Livvie chastised. Though she
couldn’t see her friend through the closed door, Cordie imagined
the duchess standing with hands on her hips, frowning at her
husband.

Cordie shouldn’t listen, but she’d been
eavesdropping since she was a small child, and some habits were
harder to break than others. Besides, they were talking about
Brendan. Had something happened?

“What’s he done to the poor girl? She
doesn’t even seem like herself.”

“I know,” Livvie sighed. “It kills me to see
her like this. She was always the strongest one of all of us.”

“Do you really not know what he’s done?” her
husband asked.

“She hasn’t said, and I haven’t asked.
She’ll tell me when she’s ready, at least I hope she will.”

Guilt washed over Cordie. She hated putting
Livvie in this situation. Kelfield grunted something she couldn’t
understand, so she pressed her ear to the door to hear better.
After all, if being at Everett Place wasn’t going to work out, if
they didn’t want her here, she needed to know sooner rather than
later.

“She’s
enceinte
too,” Livvie said
softly. “She hasn’t told me, but I can tell.”

Cordie’s heart lurched. She thought she’d
hidden that fact so well.

“God damn it!” Kelfield snarled, breaking
into her thoughts. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t track down
that bastard. At this rate she would have been better off with
Haversham.”

Livvie snorted. “Please.”

“You didn’t see him,” Kelfield protested. “I
was there, Olivia. Marc was brokenhearted when she left. He still
is.”

“Impossible. He doesn’t own a heart.”

There was a long pause, and Cordie imagined
Kelfield leveling his wife with the intensity of his silvery
glare.

“This is neither here nor there, Alex. She
chose Clayworth. She loves
him
, and still does, despite
whatever it is he’s done.”

“What kind of man lets his expectant wife
leave him? Travel across the country alone?” Kelfield growled. “Do
you know how furious I would be if it was you? And Marc is
convinced she’s in some sort of trouble.”

“Then I’m so glad she’s come to us,”
Livvie’s calm voice filtered through the door. “I can’t imagine she
would have any peace with the Averys. And I don’t want you to push
her, Alex. She needs a quiet, safe place to stay and I need her to
have it here, where at least I know she’s all right.”

“Of course I’m not going to push her. She’s
the only one of your friends I actually like.”

“She’s really the only friend I have left,”
Livvie replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry that
being my wife has cost you so much.”

“Alexander Everett,” Cordie could hear the
smile in Livvie’s voice, “
you
are my life and I wouldn’t
trade you for anything or anyone in the world—certainly not to have
hordes of fraudulent friends at my disposal.”

“It’ll get better,” he promised.

It sounded like he kissed her, and Cordie
stepped away from the door. Eavesdropping was one thing—spying on
her friend’s intimate encounters was something else entirely.
Besides it made her miss her own husband more than she already
did.

Cordie sighed. She shouldn’t have come to
Everett Place. If Brendan was revealed as a spy, would things be
even worse for Livvie for offering her shelter? She’d have to write
Mr. Birch tomorrow and ask for some funds. She couldn’t rely on the
Kelfields’ generosity for much longer.

Caroline Staveley looked across the carriage
at the Marquess of Haversham’s profile as he kept a keen eye on
Clayworth’s residence. How strange to have made an alliance with
the man. It was rare, indeed, for anyone to surprise her, and yet
Haversham most assuredly had. In all the years she had known the
marquess, which was not all that well as he lived on the outside of
propriety, Caroline had never imagined him to concern himself with
anyone’s welfare other than his own.

“A messenger,” he said, nearly pressing his
face against the glass to get a better view.

Caroline peered out her window toward the
mews behind Clayworth’s home. A young fellow in grey and crimson
livery approached the servant’s entrance. “He belongs to Astwick.
I’m not certain who Brendan’s blackmailer is, but I do know that he
is not Astwick. They’re like brothers.”

Haversham relaxed a bit against the leather
squabs while Caroline kept her eyes focused on her friend’s town
home. She felt the marquess’ gaze on her before he spoke. “Again,
Lady Staveley, I am quite capable of conducting this bit of
espionage on my own. Don’t you have luncheons or garden parties you
should be attending?”

Keeping her eyes trained on street before
her, Caroline sighed. “And if I did so, you’d be following a fellow
in Astwick’s employ and leaving Clayworth House completely
unguarded.”

“All right, you win.” He shifted on his
bench and the coach moved beneath his weight. “I don’t have the
desire to fight with you.”

Caroline smiled to herself. It had been that
way all of her life. Men never did have the desire to fight with
her. “Tell me, Haversham,” she began, “why are you doing this?
Troubling yourself with the Clayworths?” She glanced back across
the coach at him , curious at what she could read in his eyes.

Honestly, he looked a little weary. Drained
might be a better word. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt Cordelia, not
if I could stop it.”

“Why?” she breathed out.

The marquess smiled wistfully. “I think she
was the one, Lady Staveley. I just didn’t realize it until I let
Clayworth have her.”

“The one?” she echoed. He couldn’t mean what
she thought he meant. Men like him didn’t believe in such
notions.

Haversham nodded. “I love everything about
Cordie. Her penchant for trouble. Her joy of life. Her pretty
smile.” A hardened look crossed his face. “I was a fool not to keep
her while I had the chance. Though she’s not mine, I won’t let any
harm come to her.”

Caroline smiled at him. “I do believe, sir,
that I was wrong about you.”

He winked one of his light blue eyes at her,
appearing the rogue she’d always known him to be. “No, Caroline.
I’m certain you were right about me from the beginning—a scoundrel
to the very last.”

She tilted her head to one side. Perhaps the
gentleman doth protest too much.

***

While she watched, one of Kelfield’s maids
packed her trunk and Cordie released a nervous breath. She was
doing the right thing. She couldn’t stay at Everett Place any
longer. To do so would cause irreparable damage to Livvie, and she
couldn’t bear the guilt of that. After receiving word from Mr.
Birch that he had located a nice place in Bedford Square if she’d
like, Cordie made up her mind to move back to Town. Brendan
wouldn’t be happy to learn she was returning to London, but she
needed to be closer to him. Even if she couldn’t touch him or speak
to him, it would help to be in Town near him.

A knock sounded on her door, breaking Cordie
from her thoughts. “Come,” she called.

Livvie opened the door and a frown marred
her face as her eyes landed on the packing maid. She turned her
attention to Cordie. “I do wish you wouldn’t do this.”

Cordie bounded off the bed with more energy
than she actually felt. “I will be fine,” she lied.

Livvie sighed. “Join me for tea, will
you?”

“Of course.”

They left the maid packing and started down
the hallway toward the set of cantilevered stairs. “You know you
can tell me anything,” Livvie said, grasping the railing to steady
herself.

But not this.  Cordie nodded. “Of
course. You are my most trusted friend.”

She followed Livvie down the steps and into
a small, modestly appointed yellow parlor. For all that Livvie was
now a duchess, she still wasn’t accustomed to all the pomp and
circumstance that went along with the title.  After Livvie
rang for tea, they both settled on a pale yellow damask settee.

“Can’t I convince you to stay?” Livve asked,
clutching Cordie’s hand. “I’m worried about you being all alone.
You may stay with us for as long as you need.”

Livvie would help her to her own detriment.
Cordie shook her head. “I know, Liv. But I can’t. Everett Place
should be returned to you. I can’t be permanent guest.”

“But—”

“I need to adjust to my circumstances,” she
pressed on.  “Tell me you understand that.”

Livvie didn’t respond as the parlor door
burst open and Kelfield stood before them, silver eyes wide in
amazement, his mouth slightly open. It was a look Cordie had never
seen on the striking duke before, and the sight immediately put her
ill at ease.

Livvie pushed herself off the settee. “What
is it, my love?”

His strange look was replaced by a charming
smile for his wife. “Nothing to worry you about, sweetheart.” Then
he turned his attention to Cordie. “You have a guest. But if you
don’t want to see her, I’ll be more than happy to throw her out on
her ear.”

“Who?” she asked, completely confused by his
demeanor.

“That dragon. That awful Astwick woman.”

Livvie sucked in a frightened breath. “The
dowager?” she asked.

Cordie blinked. Why was Lady Astwick here?
“Where is she?”

“I told the old bat she’d have to wait in
the corridor.”

“Alexander!” Livvie scolded.

Cordie rushed to the door and down the
hallway towards the front entryway of Everett Place. What was the
dowager marchioness doing here? She slid to a stop when the old
woman came into view. Lady Astwick’s frown was firmly in place and
she was rapidly tapping her cane against the marble floor in
agitation.

Cordie swallowed nervously. “My lady,
whatever are you doing in Hampshire?”

The old woman’s frown deepened, which Cordie
hadn’t realized was possible. “You’ve left your husband to come
live in
this
den of iniquity? I hadn’t thought it of you,
Lady Clayworth. I’m thoroughly disappointed.”

The name Clayworth tore at her soul, but
Cordie refused to cry. Brendan would expect better than that. “Have
you come all the way from London to chastise me for visiting my
friends?”

“Friends!” the dowager muttered sourly under
her breath. “Fiends is more like it.  Do you know what that
man said to me?”

“Kelfield?” Cordie asked.

“That blackguard said that if I couldn’t be
civil to that wife of his, he’d throw me out on my… Well, I don’t
like to say the word.”

“Ear?” Cordie prompted.

Not
ear
, Lady Clayworth,” the old
woman snapped. “A man like him uses derogatory terms.”

Cordie was fairly certain she knew the word
in question. With a placating smile, she stepped towards the
dowager and held out her hand. “I’m certain His Grace would do no
such thing. He’s very protective of his duchess is all, and she
hasn’t been treated warmly by the upper echelons of the
ton
as you well know.”