A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) Read online

  Cordie took a sip of her own tea, hoping to cover her grin. No one could take Brookfield seriously, except it seemed for Lord Clayworth. Then again, Lord Clayworth took everything seriously, so she shouldn’t be surprised. “Have you been well?” she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

  The earl’s face softened a bit. “You’re changing the subject. Don’t you realize it’s dangerous for a pretty girl to go around unchaperoned?”

  “Yes, I had a lovely time in Norfolk. Thank you so much for asking,” she replied, then took another sip of tea.

  He rubbed his brow and closed his eyes, as if to stave off a headache, but Cordie knew she was charming him. A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips and her heart raced at the sight. He was always a striking man, but when he smiled, no one was more handsome. Lord Adonis was a most appropriate moniker.

  Clayworth opened his eyes, piercing her with his stare. “I’ve never met a lady less concerned for her own personal safety before. Does your mother know the chances you take?”

  Not if she could help it. Cordie toyed with one of the ties from her dress and shook her head. “You won’t tell her, will you, my lord?” she asked, hoping she sounded coy.

  He heaved a sigh. “I should, you know. Someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

  Cordie flashed him a charming smile and could actually see his resolve melt away.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his baritone voice rumbling over her.

  This was perfect. They were negotiating. There would be no reason to sneak off to Lady Staveley’s if he’d just tell her what she wanted to know. “I’ll promise, on one condition.”

  “Yes?” He narrowed his eyes on her.

  “I’ll promise to be more careful and take a maid out with me in the future, if you’ll tell me something.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked as he slid to the edge of his seat, his desire-filled eyes drinking her in.

  Cordie swallowed. If she didn’t ask now, she’d lose her nerve and get caught up in the emotions of being with him. “I—um—well, you must know whatever horrible thing Lord Haversham did years ago. The thing no one talks about. What was it?” The words flew out of her mouth.

  Clayworth deflated before her eyes. A frown marred his too handsome face and he slumped against the back of his chair. He looked as if he’d just been punched. His eyes slowly rose to meet hers. “Haversham.”

  Her heart aching, she nodded. It was one thing knowing she was ignoring her own heart, and another to know she’d hurt him. That certainly hadn’t been her intent. “I am sorry.” It was impossible for the simple words to convey just how sorry she was.

  He steeled his features and shook his head. “The particulars aren’t for an innocent lady’s ears, Miss Avery. I’m not willing to barter your safety. Promise me you’ll be careful. If you ended up hurt I— Just promise me.”

  His sincere plea was almost too much for Cordie, and she found herself nodding in agreement.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Clayworth stood up and placed his cup with the tea service. “Until next time, Miss Avery.”

  He was leaving? Cordie suddenly felt like crying. “You’ll return tomorrow, won’t you?” she asked before she could stop herself. He shouldn’t come back. It was too hard to see him.

  Clayworth heaved a sigh. “I am supposed to take you for a ride, Miss Avery, but under the circumstances, if you’d rather not—”

  “Oh, please do,” she said, even though she should let him go. But it was just one outing. One ride in his exquisite phaeton. No one but the two of them. She’d have to live the rest of her life without him. Shouldn’t she get at least one ride to remember through the years?

  “As you wish.” Clayworth nodded and then strode quickly from the room, taking Cordie’s heart with him.

  She was making the logical choice, wasn’t she? Clayworth was too intense. He’d never let her have the freedom she desired. She was making the right decision. She just wished it didn’t hurt so dreadfully.

  Cordie had no idea how long she sat staring at her tea, but when Sanders entered the room to announce Lord Ericht, the cup had grown cold.

  Ericht? The handsome Scottish earl? She’d never met the man. She’d seen him before, but they’d never been introduced. Cordie couldn’t imagine what he was doing here, but she nodded to her butler. “Show him in, Sanders. And—um—fresh tea, if you don’t mind.”

  She placed her cup next to Clayworth’s discarded one and wished again that he’d never left.

  “The Earl of Ericht,” Sanders intoned.

  Cordie slowly turned to face the man, but found instead the laughing, soft blue eyes of the Marquess of Haversham. He winked at her. “Miss Avery, so nice to see ye again,” he drawled in a fake Scottish accent that was surprisingly well done.

  It was hard not to smile at that. He was inventive, if nothing else. “Please, Lord Ericht, do have a seat,” she replied, waiting for Sanders to leave them.

  When the butler left, Haversham sauntered to where she sat on the settee and planted himself next to her. A roguish smile lit up his face. “Sorry for the subterfuge, but I didn’t think the old man would admit the wicked Marquess of Haversham,” he explained, as he took one of her hands in his.

  The marquess’ lips pressed to her knuckles, and though it felt rather nice, he didn’t send jolts of heat racing across her like Clayworth did. Cordie shook her head. She was being foolish. Lord Haversham was the logical answer to her problems. And here he was. He’d found a way past her mother’s guard. She should be ecstatic.

  “Are you really wicked?” she asked, wondering briefly if he might tell the terrible thing he’d one. She rather supposed he wouldn’t.

  He ran his hand along her bodice and grinned. “How badly do you want to know?”

  “Well,” she began, moving out of his reach to pace the room. “I think I should know everything about you, my lord.”

  “Marc,” he prompted.

  Weeks ago the idea of calling him that had sent shivers racing across her, but not now. It was good, she supposed, that he was still so interested in her. She wanted an affectionate husband as well as a lenient one, after all. An idea flashed in her mind. She hadn’t really seen Clayworth differently until he’d kissed her. What if the same was true for Haversham? It would be a relief not to pine away for another man her whole life. She stopped pacing and gifted the marquess with what she hoped was a seductive smile. “Marc.” She let the name drip off her lips. “Would you like to kiss me?”

  He was at her side in the blink of an eye, wearing a devilish smile. “And much more,” he promised silkily.

  Cordie bit her bottom lip.

  Marc tipped her chin up and lowered his head, but before his lips could touch hers, an ear piercing wail came from the doorway. Cordie’s shoulders slumped forward. Why did her mother have to return now?

  “Out!” Lady Avery screeched at the top of her lungs. “Out!” Then she raced toward the marquess, beating him with her reticule. “Get out of my house, you blackguard!”

  Marc raised his brow at Cordie, paying no attention to the beating he was receiving. “Soon, I will have that kiss, Miss Avery.” Then he looked down at her mother and growled, “Take your hands off me.”

  Lady Avery winced and backed up immediately. The sight made Cordie’s heart soar. With Marc to protect her, her mother would never lay another hand on her. Kiss or no kiss, she needed a plan to become the man’s marchioness. Sooner rather than later.

  He tipped his head in farewell and then spun on his heel, leaving them in his wake.

  Fire shooting from her eyes, her mother wailed, “Cordelia, have you lost your mind?”

  “I didn’t invite him here, Mama,” Cordie tried to explain, not that she wouldn’t have if he hadn’t thought of it first.

  The answer only increased her mother’s hysteria. “Do you think I want you following in Olivia’s scandalous footsteps, young lady?”

  “Livvie is
happy, Mama!” Cordie shot back. How could her mother, after knowing Livvie her whole life, be so vile to her now? “And a duchess! A duchess for heaven’s sake! They’re not generally denigrated, you know.”

  “They don’t generally behave in such ill fashion either.”

  “You should want as much for me. And Haversham is a marquess! Loads better than a puffed up naval captain.”

  “Captain Seaton was a decent man,” Lady Avery’s voice rose even louder as she puffed out her chest.

  It had grated on her nerves to see the captain cater to her mother over the last fortnight, still trying to get in her good graces. “Gabriel Seaton was a dictatorial prig and I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “Well, I…” her mother began, interrupted by a loud scraping at the door.

  Then Sanders entered the room, a look of confusion on the old man’s face. “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady, but your sons have returned.”

  The air whooshed out of Cordie. Her brothers were here? She’d been praying for their safe return for what felt like a lifetime. The anger drained immediately from her mother and they exchanged smiles of relief and happy squeals of joy at the same moment. Lady Avery pushed past Sanders to get to the doorway, Cordie right behind her.

  They didn’t have to go far. Standing in the hallway were her brothers Russell and Tristan, and behind them a dear old friend, Major Philip Moore. Both women squealed again. Russell embraced their mother and Cordie threw herself into Tristan’s awaiting arms. She hadn’t realized how scared she was that they wouldn’t return until she felt Tristan’s strong arms hold her. She had missed them both dreadfully. After a long moment, they switched partners and Russell held her tightly.

  Thank God they were safe. Thank God they were home.

  “Philip Moore!” Lady Avery finally rushed towards the major, arms outstretched. “My dear boy, I can never thank you enough for keeping Tristan alive.”

  Tristan groaned nearby. “Mother, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that.”

  “Into the parlor, all of you,” her mother demanded, directing everyone inside the nearest room. “And, Sanders, tea, if you will. Who knows when these boys have had decent fare. You’re all too thin, the lot of you.”

  Tristan slid his arm around Cordie’s waist. “You are a sight for sore eyes, sis.”

  “Oh, Tris,” she whispered back. “You don’t know how worried I was. When Russell said you’d been hit—”

  Her youngest brother blushed. “He exaggerates. You know that.”

  “Oh, I’m just so glad you’re here.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. Tristan was her closest sibling in age, and he’d always been her favorite brother. Kind hearted and honest, she’d adored him her entire life.

  Their mother hooked her arm with Tristan’s and steered both her sons into chairs near hers. Cordie settled next to Philip on the settee and smiled at him. In so many ways he was like another brother. They’d all grown up together in Nottinghamshire. “It is good to see you, Philip. We have been so worried about all of you.”

  “Indeed we have!” Lady Avery seconded. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her youngest son. “Tristan, my heart stopped when we got the news you’d been injured.”

  “Mother, it was nothing,” Tris almost growled.

  “Don’t listen to him, Mother,” Russell interrupted, a mischievous grin on his face. “The battle was intense. Loud. Sound was everywhere. If it hadn’t been for Philip knocking Tris to the ground, he’d have taken a ball in the chest.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Tris grumbled.

  Russell raised his brow, like only an older and irritating brother can. “All he ended up with was a broken arm. That time.”

  “Thank you, Russell,” Tris replied fiercely.

  Philip gently touched Cordie’s hand, and her eyes flew to his. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were yelling when we arrived.”

  Cordie blanched. She hadn’t realized everyone heard their argument. That was a bit embarrassing. The entire room fell silent.

  Philip pressed on, “Were you talking about my Olivia?”

  He didn’t know about Livvie? Cordie wished the floor would swallow her whole. How did he not know? No one had told him? Livvie and Philip had been engaged for years. She would still be waiting for him if Kelfield hadn’t swept her off her feet.

  “See here,” Russell cut in, leveling her with his soft green eyes. “I’ll not have my sister falling prey to Marcus Gray. What was he doing here?”

  “I’ll put a ball in his skull if he returns,” Tristan threatened.

  “And a blade in his chest,” Russell added.

  “Charming!” Cordie frowned at her brothers. All she needed was their interference. “It’s so wonderful to see that the two of you are still so civilized after your stay in the army.”

  Russell shook his head. “You can’t bait us like that, Cordie. Have you gone and lost your mind? I mean, Haversham for God’s sake? Do you have any idea of his reputation?”

  “I know that he’d grant me the freedom to do as I pleased,” she shot back. “He wouldn’t dictate who my friends could be. Or what I could say. Or what I could do. And he cares about me, Russell. So both of you—” she paused, gesturing wildly to both her brothers— “had better keep your pistols and swords to yourselves, or I’ll never forgive you.”

  Lady Avery smiled wistfully. “It is good to have you home. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her. Ever since Olivia…”

  Philip’s eyes flew to the baroness. “Pray continue, my lady. Ever since Olivia what?”

  She looked away from him, so he turned his attention to Cordie. “Ever since Olivia what? Please tell me.”

  Cordie couldn’t look at him either. Philip was devoted to Livvie. He always had been. He was owed the truth, however. “I-I suppose that means you don’t know.”

  “Know what?” he demanded, which really wasn’t like him at all. He was normally so softly spoken.

  Cordie glanced up at him, her heart aching for him. “I don’t think she meant for it to happen, Philip. It just did.”

  “What happened?” he nearly bellowed.

  She took a deep breath. Perhaps if he knew how it happened, it would help. “Well, you see, we’d gone to a house party in Derbyshire at the home of the Duke of Prestwick—”

  “She married the Duke of Prestwick?” he asked, confusion on his face.

  “No,” Cordie quickly replied, “His Grace of Prestwick is just a boy, but his sister is married to Livvie’s cousin Lucas Beckford. It was the worst house party I’ve ever been to. There were no entertainments to speak of, and surly naval captains, and we were dreadfully bored.”

  A muscle twitched in Philip’s jaw and he rubbed his forehead. “For the love of God, Cordelia, pray get to the point,” he barked impatiently.

  Before she could continue, her mother interrupted. “The Duke of Kelfield was in attendance as well, Philip.” She frowned at Cordie as she spoke. “The girls returned early from the country and two days later Olivia was Kelfield’s duchess. I’m unsure of all that transpired as Cordelia had gone alone to keep Olivia company. I entrusted Cordie would be safe in Lord and Lady Staveley’s care, a mistake I won’t make in the future.”

  Cordie leapt off the settee, awash in anger all over again at the injustice. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Mama. And yet you insist on keeping me locked up here like some villain.”

  “Nothing wrong?” her mother echoed. “Then just what would you call allowing Haversham to call on you?”

  Cordie didn’t have time to answer as Philip leapt to his feet beside her. “I’ll kill him!”

  That was the worst possible turn of events. She had to stop him. Philip started for the door and Cordie chased after him, wailing, “Philip, no! Please stop! Listen to reason.”

  But he didn’t stop, and Cordie turned around to see her mother and two brothers staring at her in disbelief.

  ~ 14 ~

  Cordie lay on her bed staring up at the canopy
above her, having been banished to her room after Philip Moore stormed out. Her mother was still furious over finding her, once again, in Haversham’s arms. She was fortunate that Russell and Tristan had returned, or her punishment would have been more severe. However, that was the least of her worries at the moment.

  A few streets away, Livvie’s life must be falling apart. Cordie’s heart ached for her friend. It ached for Philip too. How horrible for him to find out the love of his life had married another. It reminded her of the look of utter devastation Lord Clayworth wore in her parlor that very afternoon when she’d mentioned Haversham’s name. Though the two men handled the situations quite differently.

  Upon learning of her continued interest in Haversham, Clayworth hadn’t stormed off ready to kill the man. Instead he’d made her promise to be careful with such a sincere plea, Cordie hurt just remembering it. Guilt washed over her again. Was she doing the right thing? Why did she keep coming back to that? She knew in her mind that she was, but her heart seemed unable to give up.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” Cordie called.

  The door opened and Tristan stood at the entrance, shaking his head, wearing a crooked smile. “You always were the most rebellious of us all.”

  He stepped inside her room and crossed the floor in just a few strides. Then he flopped down on the bed, next to her. “I don’t agree with Mother often, Cor, but Haversham? What are you thinking?”

  Cordie shrugged and closed her eyes. “Not you too, Tris. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I’m always on your side,” he assured her, dropping a very brotherly kiss to her cheek. “And I’m ready to listen.”

  He would listen, she knew that, but he wouldn’t understand. He was a man and couldn’t possibly comprehend how difficult her choice was. He’d always had his freedom to do what he wanted. No one ever told him he couldn’t be friends with his friends or he couldn’t go wherever he pleased. She could try to explain, but it would end up being a very frustrating conversation, and she wasn’t up for that just now. “Tris, what did Philip do?” she asked, changing the subject.