A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) (8 page)

“Sweetheart,” Chet began with a frown, “you
know better than to quote
my
mother. She’s been hounding
poor Clayworth for years.” Then Chet quirked a grin at Brendan.
“But since she brought it up, I was completely surprised by your
attention to the Avery girl, both last night and today.”

This was what came from years of celibacy
and attending to his duty. At the first sign of interest in a
woman, the Town went wild with speculation. “What about today?” he
asked cautiously.

“Hannah and I love the park, as you know,
and we were a bit off the beaten path this afternoon, and…Haversham
will be sporting a shiner for at least a sennight.” Astwick grinned
with a conspiratorial wink. “That bastard had it coming.”

“Chester!” his wife complained.

Chet focused on his wife, the look of an
unrepentant boy across his face. “You know I’m right.”

Hannah shook her head, her pretty golden
curls bobbing back and forth. “Just watch your language around the
boys.”

Chet chuckled. “Yes, I’m certain they never
heard that particular word in the army camps.”

Hannah heaved a sigh. “That is no’ the
point.” Her blue eyes suddenly grew wide. “Heavens.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Chet asked, all
amusement gone from his voice. “Are you feeling all right?”

She blushed slightly. “It’s no’
that
, darling. It’s just Miss Avery has arrived.”

Brendan immediately turned from his spot to
see the enchanting Cordelia Avery step into the drawing room.
Enchanting
? Troublesome, was more fitting. Obstinate, was
apt as well. But somehow enchanting was the word that came to mind
when his eyes landed on her. Cordelia’s dark hair was piled high on
her head and though her pale yellow gown might be described by some
as plain, on her it was breathtaking.  She wore a simple row
of pearls around her neck, and tiny white rose buds in her
hair.

He swallowed nervously, aching to remove
those flowers one at a time.

God! What had come over him?

Cordie immediately felt Clayworth’s gaze on
her and she swallowed nervously. He’d been so angry with her after
their ride, and yet the look in his eyes spoke of something
else.  If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was glad to
see her. In that moment, it was easy to see why so many women over
the years had dreamed of him. There wasn’t a man more handsome than
Lord Adonis. His jacket matched his eyes, so dark blue it was
almost black, making his snowy white cravat even more dramatic. His
golden hair nearly shined under the warm chandelier light. This was
a man whose mere presence stripped women of their breath.

Clayworth tipped his head and quirked her a
crooked grin. From across the room, he almost seemed charming.

Cordie mentally shook her head. Such
thoughts were foolish. Just then, the dowager Marchioness of
Astwick crossed the floor towards them. Honestly, the tiny old
woman with grey hair, heavily adorned in jewels, didn’t look like a
dragon, but Cordie had witnessed her vicious tongue in action
before. She was suddenly much more nervous about greeting the
dowager than she was about spending the evening in Clayworth’s
company.

“Gladys!” the old woman barked in greeting.
“Why have you been keeping this delightful creature hidden
away?”

“I-I,” Lady Avery stuttered.

The dowager waved her hand in the air,
successfully shushing the baroness. “Never mind.” She stretched out
her frail hand to Cordie. “Walk with me, Miss Avery.”

She didn’t really have a choice. Cordie
linked her arm with the dowager and was surprised with the agility
the woman possessed. “Thank you, my lady.”

The dowager’s pale eyes flashed to hers, and
when she smiled, it seemed as if her face might crack from the
exercise. In fact, Cordie had never seen the woman smile before.
She hadn’t even heard rumors of the possibility before. She glanced
over her shoulder to see if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had
just arrived.

“What are you looking at?” the dowager
boomed loudly.

“Nothing.”

“I should say not. Clayworth is in front of
us, not behind.”

Cordie lost her footing and the warmth of a
blush crept up her neck.

“Stand up straight. Women didn’t slouch in
my day,” the old woman directed.

“I…um…sorry.”

“And don’t stumble around with your words.
If you’re going to handle a man like Clayworth, you need to be
firm.”

“Yes, of course, my lady.” She hoped that
seemed firm enough, not that she wanted to handle a man like
Clayworth, but she didn’t want the woman to bite her head off.

“So,” the dowager began, “you’ve caught
everyone’s attention, Miss Avery. And now that you have it, what do
you intend to do with it? Which of the two handsome devils bandying
for your attention do you intend to choose?”

“My lady, you flatter me. I—”

“My intent is not to flatter you, but to get
a straight answer. That fellow over there has been a friend of my
family for years, though he doesn’t visit enough for anyone to know
it. The best sort of man there is. I wish my son was a bit more
like him.”

Across the room, her son, the Marquess of
Astwick, silently toasted her with his glass of champagne,
completely unaffected by her cruel words. Cordie’s eyes flashed to
Clayworth’s, realizing that the dowager could be heard in every
corner of the room. His twilight eyes danced as if he was truly
entertained by this highly improper conversation. Not that anyone
would ever rebuke the dowager marchioness, but Cordie was mortified
just the same.

At that moment, the dinner chime rang and
she’d never been more relieved to be granted a reprieve.

“Brendan Reese!” the dowager bellowed
loudly. “Come and escort my delightful Miss Avery into dinner.”

He was at her side in the blink of an eye,
an arm outstretched, and a playful grin on his lips. “Miss
Avery.”

A spark of awareness jolted through Cordie
as she accepted his arm, and she almost pulled back her hand. She
looked up into his handsome face and the fluttering in her stomach
began anew. “You have quite the champion,” she whispered, trying to
bring her heart rate down to an acceptable level.

“Me?” His smile grew. “I’ve never heard her
call anyone delightful before,” Clayworth whispered to her. “What
could you have possibly have done to garner such praise?”

Cordie shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve
always been terrified of the woman.”

Clayworth chuckled and placed his free hand
over hers, sending a fresh wave of tingles racing up her arm. “So
you do have
some
sense.”

She didn’t find that remotely humorous and
stiffened her back in response.

“Oh, now,” he began soothingly, “my dear,
don’t be so serious.”

That
he
would say those words to her
was suddenly quite funny, and Cordie had to stifle a giggle.
“Coming from you that does mean something.”

“I had no idea that
anything
I said
meant something to you.”

She grinned at him. “True, I generally
choose to ignore you.”

“You have a saucy tongue, Miss Avery.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.”

“Not from where I stand.” The crooked smile
returned to his lips.

She didn’t know what he meant by that.
Before she could find out, Cordie was surprised to discover the
dowager had assigned her to be seated between Lord Astwick and Lord
Clayworth at the table. As the youngest daughter of a mere baron,
she was generally at the other end of the room when it came to
gatherings such as this.  But the dowager had raised her
ancient brow and said in a crystal clear voice that
sh
e
could do whatever she wanted in her own home.

Once seated, Lord Astwick chuckled and
inclined his head towards Cordie as everyone else started in on
their turtle soup. “Don’t look so frightened, Miss Avery. I know
it’s difficult to tell, but I’ve never seen mother take to anyone
so quickly before.”

She nearly choked. “She likes me?”

The marquess’ smile widened. “You don’t know
how rare that is.”

Actually, she had a fairly good idea. The
widowed Lady Astwick, one of the pillars of society, could make or
break someone if she was of a mind. It was a pity the dowager
hadn’t taken to Livvie. No one would dare disparage the scandalous
Duchess of Kelfield if Lady Astwick were her champion. She wished
she knew what she’d done to capture the dowager’s attention so she
could pass the information to her friend.

Cordie felt Clayworth’s eyes on her and she
tilted her head to one side to see him better. The intensity of his
stare startled her. His twilight eyes deepened even more and the
flutters in her stomach increased when he quirked her the smallest
of smiles.

“Miss Avery,” Lord Astwick began in a voice
that was much too loud for normal dinner conversations. “I
understand Clayworth drove you ‘round in that flashy phaeton of his
today.”

“Chet!” Clayworth growled on her other
side.

The marquess paid his friend no attention,
but continued in his booming voice. “My dear, you should make him
take you along the Bath Road and give you a real ride. The wind
through your hair, no pedestrians to watch out for.”

Clayworth placed his spoon back on the
table, a little harder than was necessary, and glared at his
friend. “I can’t even believe that you would suggest such a thing,
Astwick.”

The marquess waved him off with a flick of
his wrist. “Honestly, Brendan, I’m having a conversation with Miss
Avery. No one has included you.” Then he turned his light green
eyes on Cordie, a mischievous smile on his face. “As I was saying,
my dear--”

“That you would even suggest that I would
risk her safety,” Clayworth interrupted, then he grumbled something
unintelligible, though Cordie thought it sounded like he thought
she risked her own safety more than enough and didn’t need any help
from him.

She scowled in response. She was perfectly
safe and had been her whole life, before their paths even
crossed.

Astwick chuckled, completely unmoved by his
friend’s irritation. “Brendan, you’re an excellent driver. Miss
Avery seems like an adventurous sort to me.  I’m certain she’d
be perfectly safe in your hands and would enjoy the ride
immensely.”

“I think that sounds like an excellent
idea,” the dowager barked from her spot several people down. It was
quite improper for the old woman to talk over so many people from
so far away, but no one would ever consider rebuking her. “Lady
Avery,” she called even further down the table, “I suggest you
allow Clayworth to take your delightful daughter for a spirited
ride.”

Cordie’s mother’s eyes widened, as though
trying to sort out the proper protocol for this bizarre
conversation. Finally she nodded. “If you think that’s wise, my
lady.”

“I’m always right,” the dowager confirmed,
then turned her attention back to wherever it was before she
bellowed across the room.

Clayworth glared at Astwick. “Are you happy
now?”

“Quite,” the marquess replied as he dipped
his spoon into his
bowl.           

The idea of racing along the Bath Road in
that exquisite phaeton made Cordie’s heart leap. That particular
conveyance was made to go fast. It sounded exciting. Would he
really take her? If so, would he drive at breakneck speed or like
an old farmer with a horse cart?  She chanced a glance at the
earl, who was frowning at his bowl.

“You don’t have to take me, my lord,” she
said, with a mischievous smile of her own. “I’m certain I can find
someone else who is willing.”

***           

Brendan’s eyes shot to her pretty green ones
in an instant.
Someone else who is willing
. He knew exactly
who she had in mind. He should throttle Chet for even bringing the
subject up. Damn interfering friends. “On the contrary, Miss Avery,
nothing would please me more.”

Taking her for a spirited ride
. He
wished the image that flashed in his mind at the phrase had been of
his phaeton and bays on the Bath Road. Unfortunately it was a
different sort of ride altogether he envisioned. Cordelia Avery
beneath him. Her soft breath on his lips. Her green eyes tinted
with passion. Her breasts bared for his touch. Her legs spread
waiting for him. For the love of God! This wasn’t like him at
all.

Perfectly safe in his hands
.
Bollocks. At the moment, he wasn’t certain she was any safer with
him than with Haversham.

“You don’t look very pleased.” Her quiet
voice interrupted his thoughts.

Of course he wasn’t pleased. Brendan always
prided himself on his excellent control of any situation, but he
didn’t seem to be in control of anything in her presence. Not of
her, certainly, but not of himself either. When he’d found her in
Haversham’s embrace that afternoon, he’d wanted to kill the man in
his spot. He wasn’t prone to violence and he didn’t have
uncontrollable, lascivious thoughts. At least he hadn’t until
Cordelia Avery entered his life.

Brendan took a calming breath. He needed to
remain focused, find his mother’s letters, and keep Miss Avery safe
until Haversham lost interest in her. Then his life could go back
to normal. He could go home, to his duties that awaited, to his
nephew, Thomas, who needed his guidance, as well as to figuring out
what to do with his sister, Rosamund.

Miss Avery’s pretty brow was furrowed and
Brendan winced. Why should her emotions matter to him one way or
the other? If she was having this affect on him after only one day,
what sort of state would he be in after weeks of her acquaintance?
Months?  How long would it take to find those damned
letters?

Then he smiled, remembering a comment from
their afternoon ride. He might just be saved. “Are you indeed going
to Norfolk, Miss Avery?”