A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (40 page)

“Let’s get one thing clear, Clayworth,” Lord
Brookfield spat. “You’re buying my silence, but nothing else.”

But Brendan had to get his mother’s letters,
especially from this madman. “I’m afraid I must insist on the
trade,” he replied calmly, hoping to alleviate the man’s obvious
agitation.

Brookfield looked at him as though he
sprouted horns and a forked tail. “You’ll give me every farthing I
want, and you’ll continue to do so until every penny you stole is
returned to me.”

Stole? Brendan shook his head. “I’ve never
taken anything from you, Brookfield.”

Exasperated, the deranged viscount blew a
lungful of air from his chest. “I wouldn’t have cared if she wanted
to carry on with Haversham if that’s what she wanted. I only
wanted…”

“This is about
Cordelia
?” Brendan
frowned at the deranged man. “All of this is about my wife?”

“She should have been my wife! I needed
her…and y-you don’t.”

Needed her? Or needed her dowry? Things were
starting to make a bit of sense. “I am sorry, old man, but she
chose me. I’m certain however…”

Brookfield scoffed. “She chose
Haversham
. I saw her sneaking around to see him more than
once. I saw her leave Sunderland’s ball in his company. But you
covered up for her, always the hero.”

Brendan’s head spun just a bit. He hadn’t
thought anyone other than Averys knew the truth about that fateful
evening. How long had Brookfield been keeping an eye on Cordie?

“And if you don’t pay me, everyone else will
know it too,” Brookfield growled, his wild eyes darkening with the
pronouncement. “And we both know the ever-heroic Clayworth will
never let scandal touch the perfect Reese family name.”

“Brendan!” Cordie’s voice reached Brendan’s
ears. Dear God! He hadn’t imagined her calling him earlier. It
really was her! What was she doing here? She should be safely
ensconced in Hampshire, away from the unhinged Brookfield.

“Cordie!” he yelled back. “Stay wherever you
are! Don’t come any closer.”

Of course she didn’t listen to him. His
reckless wife rounded a hedgerow and froze in her spot when she
realized Brookfield’s gun was trained on Brendan. “He doesn’t have
them,” she called.

The letters. She’d somehow discovered that
piece of information and thought to save him. He could see it in
her anxious countenance. No, Brookfield didn’t have the letters. It
was too bad Brendan hadn’t realized that before. “What in the world
are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she replied softly.

“Well, do come closer then.” Brookfield
gestured her forward with his pistol.

“This has nothing to do with her,” Brendan
said calmly. “Tell me how much you want and I’ll give it to
you.”

“This has everything to do with her!”
Spittle flew from Brookfield’s mouth.

Brendan spotted Haversham, a little worse
for the wear, rounding a hedgerow from the opposite direction.
About time he showed up. The marquess, pistol in hand, lifted his
finger to his lips, warning Brendan and Cordie not to say a
word.

“I want every farthing that should have been
mine.” The viscount scowled at Brendan. “Or I suppose I could shoot
you and then marry the grieving widow after all.”

Brookfield must have heard a sound behind
him because he spun on his heel and gasped when he discovered
Haversham just a few feet away. In surprise, Brookfield fired his
pistol and Haversham stumbled back slightly. A red stain on the
marquess’ left shoulder quickly began to spread as he fired his own
weapon, hitting Brookfield squarely in the chest.

Cordie screamed and threw her arms around
Brendan’s neck, burying her face against his chest. He held her
close, not certain if he would ever be able to let her go. After
the weeks they spent apart and then Brookfield threatening their
lives, Brendan wanted to keep her in his arms forever.

***           

Cordie should dry her eyes, but she didn’t
want to let go of her husband. So she held on tighter even as Lady
Staveley and Lady Astwick came upon the scene. Then the viscountess
dashed across the garden and she threw her arms around Marc’s neck,
sobbing. “You foolish, foolish man!” she heaved. “You nearly got
yourself killed!” Then she seemed to remember herself and released
her hold on him. Caroline Staveley swiped at her tears and then
began beating his broad chest with her fists. “And how dare you
lock me in that coach and send me packing, you awful
scoundrel!”

Marc grinned like the rake he was reported
to be, snaked his good arm around Lady Staveley’s waist and drew
her back against him. Then he lowered his head and captured her
lips in a searing kiss that even took Cordie’s breath away from
where she still stood within Brendan’s arms.

“Heavens!” Cordie whispered, her mouth
agape.

Brendan cleared his throat and Lady Astwick
harrumphed. Loudly.

Finally, Marc lifted his head, his light
eyes twinkling devilishly. “Now, my dear Caroline, you may say
you’ve enjoyed a proper assignation in a Vauxhall walkway.”

Lady Staveley ripped herself from his grasp
and slapped his cheek, though the sound was drowned out amidst the
blast of more fireworks overhead. “Don’t you
ever
come near
me again, Marcus Gray!”

He winked at her and nodded his head in
acquiescence. “Not to worry, I never do kiss a lady more than once,
my dear.” Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the
revelry of the night, his left arm hanging limply at his side.

“Well!” Lady Astwick declared. “I think you
handled that rather well, Caroline Staveley.”

The viscountess still seemed to be trying to
catch her breath. A dark blush covered every inch of skin Cordie
could see. Then Lady Staveley touched a hand to her cheek as though
to determine her own temperature. “I can’t believe that just
happened.”

“As I said, you handled that rather well,
Caroline,” Lady Astwick continued in a softer tone. “You know how
foolish men can be. I think there’s no reason to mention any of
this to Staveley or he’ll feel compelled to defend your honor and
you’ve already done so, quite wonderfully, yourself.”

At that moment, a constable rounded the
hedgerow and took in the scene before him. “An injured gentleman
just sent me this direction.”

Brendan whispered in Cordie’s ear, “Go to
Caroline,
ma minouche
.” Then he closed the distance from
their group to the constable. “I’m Clayworth. That fellow there,”
he pointed to Brookfield’s now lifeless body, “threatened my wife
and myself, then shot the Marquess of Haversham, who defended
himself by firing back. Fortunately, Haversham is a better shot,
and I believe he’s gone to find a surgeon for his own injury.”

“Aye, that’s what the man said,” the
constable agreed, then he sunk to his haunches to take a closer
look at Brookfield. He grunted unhappily. “Just what I needed to
make my day complete.” He glanced back up at Brendan. “Clayworth,
you say?”

“The Earl of Clayworth,” Brendan
clarified.

“Well, my lord, why don’t you see these
ladies home? I’m sure we’ll be around to get your statements
later.”

Brendan nodded. “I’ll look forward to
speaking with you.”

***

Cordie snuggled against Brendan in Lady
Astwick’s traveling coach. It had been so long since she’d seen
him. So long since she’d felt his arms around her. She closed her
eyes and breathed in the scent of him, silently vowing to never be
away from him again.

As soon as Caroline Staveley departed the
carriage and the remaining trio started for Clayworth House, Lady
Astwick sighed loudly. “I am so terribly sorry, Brendan. Had I
known you were searching for Jacqueline’s letters I would have told
you they’d been destroyed.”

 “It’s hardly your fault.” Brendan ran
his hand up and down Cordie’s arm as though to keep her warm.

“Still, I wish I had something. I didn’t
know you knew is all, and I didn’t want to tarnish your memory of
her.”

He laughed sadly. “I just can’t believe it’s
over. I can’t believe I can stop looking for the things.”

“You can now enjoy the happiness you should
have always had, dear boy.” Then the dowager cleared her throat.
“But if you ever send your wife off again, you won’t have to worry
about the Home Office. I’ll hang you myself.”

Brendan chuckled and the sound warmed
Cordie, inside and out. “Not to worry, my lady, my days of
espionage and subterfuge are over. I can’t wait to retire to
Bayhurst Court with my wife and never let her leave my sight.”

“That might be a bit extreme,” the old woman
declared. “You don’t want to make a nuisance of yourself.”

“Within reason, then,” he promised.

Cordie sat up a little straighter and stared
into her handsome husband’s eyes. “I was so terrified when I saw
his pistol. I thought…” But she couldn’t finish that statement.

“It doesn’t matter.” He pressed a kiss to
her forehead. “It’s all over, my love. But do tell me you don’t
have any other deranged fellows hoping to still marry you. This
Captain Seaton fellow is of the reasonable variety, isn’t he?”

He hadn’t been reasonable about Cordie’s
friendship with Livvie, but Cordie couldn’t imagine the captain
brandishing a pistol or trying to blackmail Brendan. “I believe you
are safe, my lord.”

“Thank God,” he replied with a charming
smile upon his face.

July 1815 – Bayhurst Court,
Derbyshire           

“I know you were behind it, Cordelia
Clayworth!” Livvie embraced Cordie on the front drive.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking
about,” Cordie giggled, so happy that the Kelfields had finally
arrived to spend the rest of July in Derbyshire.

“Hmm.” Livvie grinned. “I suppose the
dowager Marchioness of Astwick inviting me to her house party next
month is just a coincidence then?”

Of course not. Cordie had finally broken the
old woman down, begging her to ease Livvie’s way back into society.
“I’m sure you charmed her all on your own.”

“I’m certain,” Livvie replied drolly.

A squeal from Poppy Everett caught their
attention as a little sheep dog knocked the child to the ground.
Thomas Reese doubled over with laughter.

“I can’t believe you rode all the way from
Hampshire with a
dog.
” Cordie smiled at the scene on her
front lawn.

“Watch what you say about me in front of my
children, will you?” the Duke of Kelfield bounced his son in his
arms. The tiny Marquess of Brockenhurst cooed and chomped on his
father’s finger.

“I will try to watch my tongue,” Cordie
teased. Then she gestured to the estate behind her. “Do come
inside, I know Clayworth is eager to see you both.”

“Eager to show off his heir, you mean, if
his letter is any indication,” Kelfield corrected. “Though I
completely support his doing so.”

“So generous of you.” Livvie rolled her
eyes.

“Well, I’d never begrudge him what I plan to
do myself.”

“You are indeed noble, Your Grace,” Cordie
laughed as she turned back to her home. She ushered Livvie and
Kelfield into a sunny yellow parlor where Brendan sat on a settee
holding their sleeping son, Julian Reese, the tiny Baron
Bayhurst.

“Shh,” he whispered. “The little lad just
barely dozed off.” His eyes however, twinkled with love and
affection as they landed on Cordie and she felt it all the way to
her toes. If she lived to a hundred she’d never tire of that
look.

“Only Brendan can get Julian to fall
asleep.”

“My wife has always professed that I’m old
and boring.” Brendan winked at her. “Apparently our son
agrees.”

“You are awful. I haven’t said that in
ages.”

Livvie laughed as she linked her arm with
Cordie. “Do you suppose Brock and Julian will be as good of friends
as we are?”

Cordie nodded. Of course their sons would be
friends. They would know each other all their lives just as Cordie
and Livvie had done. “I’m certain the Kelfields and Clayworths will
be close for generations.”

“I’m certain you are right, my love,”
Brendan said.

“Always wise to agree with one’s wife.”
Kelfield smirked.

Ava Stone first fell in love with Mr. Darcy,
Jane Austen and Regency England at the age of twelve. And in the
years since, that love has never diminished. If she isn’t writing
Regency era romance, she can be found reading it.

Ava loves to hear from readers. You can send
her an email at [email protected]

© 2011 Ava Stone, Aileen Fish, Julie
Johnstone

In AVA STONE’s
The Counterfeit Christmas
Summons
, Lady Emma Whitton has decided its
time to take her future in her own hands. She has been in love with
Viscount Heathfield since she was in leading strings.
Unfortunately, it's been almost that long since she's laid eyes on
her brother's old friend and vice versa. Tired of waiting for him
to remember her, Emma pens a holiday invitation (in her brother's
hand) to Heathfield and waits as patiently as she is able for her
one true love to arrive. * Heath isn't quite certain what to make
of the very strange summons he received, but his curiosity is most
definitely piqued. He heads north to Danby Castle, only to find
that his very orderly life is about to be turned upside
down.

~ * ~

In AILEEN FISH’s
The Viscount’s Sweet
Temptation
, Lady Harriet Thornhill knows
the summons from her grandfather means he’s decided whom she must
marry. Determined that she’d only marry a man of her choosing, she
stows away in her friend’s father’s carriage, only to find herself
alone with young Archibald Napier,Viscount Morley. * Morley’s plans
for a quiet Christmas vanish when he discovers the sweet young lady
hiding under the blankets in his carriage. As she claims an
acquaintance with his sister, he feels duty-bound to see her safely
back to her family.* A broken carriage wheel leaves them stranded,
and Harriet’s reputation is at stake. Morley’s not ready to take a
wife, until he’s told he wouldn’t be a suitable husband for her.
With memories of her sweet, tempting kiss filling his thoughts, he
prepares to fight for the hand of the woman he believes he could
love.