A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) Page 11

  His body tightened next to hers and she took in a sharp breath. Certainly he didn’t really kill the duke. “That’s men’s business, Cordie.”

  Men’s business, indeed! No. Her brother, dear as he was, would never understand her predicament. Irritating man! She sat bolt upright and glared at him. “Tristan Randolph Avery, Olivia is my dearest friend. Now you tell me this instant.”

  He chuckled, his weight shaking the bed. “You sound just like mother.”

  It was the worst thing anyone had ever said to her. Her mouth fell open. Stunned by his words, Cordie didn’t even realizing she was crying until her tears dropped to her hands and Tris’ face contorted with concern.

  He sat up in an instant and smoothed her tears away. “Dear God! What is it? What did I say?”

  Words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She sounded like Mother? The very last person she wanted to be like in any way was their mother. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d thurst a knife into her belly with that accusation.

  “No, no, no,” Tris tried to soothe her, though he sounded quite panicked. “Don’t cry, Cordie. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just stop looking like that.”

  She was never emotional like this. She put her hand to her heart and took one big calming breath after another. How silly of her. She’d never realized that her tears were a tool to get things she wanted. How unfortunate to discover so late in life.

  When she could speak, she pierced Tristan with her most pleading look. “What did Philip do?”

  He frowned and wiped away the last of her tears. “He challenged Kelfield.”

  “He what?” she asked, shocked and angry all rolled into one. What was wrong with men? This was how they thought to solve problems?

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Tris started to slide from the bed.

  Cordie grabbed his lieutenant’s uniform and held tightly. “Has he lost his mind? Doesn’t he realize what this will do to Livvie?”

  “Kelfield dishonored him, Cordie. In Philip’s spot, I’d do the same.”

  “Stupid, foolish men, all of you.”

  “Thank you,” her brother replied with a furrowed brow.

  Cordie leapt off the bed, pacing a path in her rug. “Russell’s his second, I suppose.”

  Philip and Russell were the closest of friends. It wasn’t even possible he’d picked someone else. If she had the chance to think through this clearly she might be able to do something to fix the mess these men had created.

  “Cordie,” Tristan said warningly.

  “They could delope,” she said hopefully. “Philip’s honor could be preserved and neither of them would have to die.” How could Kelfield even compete with a trained soldier in such a realm? Poor Livvie, it would destroy her.

  “They can’t delope,” Tristan said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “How do you even know such things?”

  She gaped at her brother. “I’ve listened to you three my entire life.”

  He massaged his temples. “We had no idea you were such an apt pupil. Anyway, even if they wanted to delope, which Philip would not, they’re not using pistols. Kelfield chose swords.”

  Swords? She shuddered. How terribly gruesome. Unless…an idea began to form in her mind. “At dawn tomorrow?” she asked. These sort of things were always at dawn, usually the next day, before the participants had time to think about how incredibly stupid they were.

  “Philip won’t change his mind and Kelfield can’t back out. So whatever you’re thinking, put it out of your mind. None of this concerns you.”

  It was a concern of hers, however. People she loved were bound to get hurt one way or the other. Livvie. Philip. She didn’t know Kelfield particularly well, but she did like him. The whole thing was a terrible situation. “It concerns Livvie,” she said evenly.

  “Cordie.” He shook his head. “I didn’t come to discuss any of this with you.”

  Then she remembered. Tristan’s first words chastised her involvement with Haversham. Cordie closed her eyes. There were much more pressing things to worry about at the moment. “I’ll not discuss the marquess with you, Tris.”

  “Good,” he said cheerfully.

  Cordie opened her eyes, only to narrow them on her brother. Why did he sound so happy? “What then?” she asked suspiciously.

  Tristan shrugged. “Mother seems convinced you’ll receive an offer from the Earl of Clayworth. It’s a good match, Cordie.”

  She winced at the name, remembering once again the look of pain she’d caused on his handsome face. She didn’t want to think about Clayworth. It hurt too much. But Livvie… If Cordie could focus on helping her friend, she wouldn’t have to think about the earl. “Mother’s mistaken. He won’t propose.”

  “You can’t possibly know what goes on in a man’s mind, Cordie.”

  She scowled at him. “Probably not, because you all make such foolish, idiotic, ridiculous decisions. No one with a clear mind could sort you all out.”

  Tristan chuckled. “You haven’t changed one bit, sis. I’m so glad.”

  ***

  Brendan climbed the steps to his Mayfair home, cursing himself the entire way. What the devil was wrong with him? He’d known since the very beginning she was infatuated with Haversham. Did he think that his one kiss would change all that? Just because the kiss was the most intense he’d ever had, just because the kiss made him forget what he was after, just because the kiss made him hope for the impossible did not mean it had the same effect on her.

  But he would have sworn it had.

  His butler opened the door and smiled tightly. “Lord Clayworth.”

  “Higgins,” Brendan responded, handing his cane and hat to the man. He started off towards his study. So Cordelia Avery had rejected him. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It just felt like it. Unfortunately, he still didn’t have his mother’s letters, so he was caught in the awful circumstance of having to see her again, over and over, until he finally had the evidence of his mother’s crimes in his possession. The torture this situation presented should be punishment enough to absolve him of whatever sins he’d committed in his life.

  “Ah, Brendan, there you are,” came Caroline’s ever cheerful voice.

  He cringed as he came to a stop. The last bloody person he wanted to see was Caroline. Who knew what trouble she had in store for him? Brendan shook his head. “Sorry, Caro, I’m in a bit of a hurry at the moment.”

  “The parlor’s done, darling. I just wanted you to have a look.”

  There wasn’t a polite way around it. He heaved a sigh and turned on his heel. Caroline Staveley met him with a beatific smile, arms outstretched. “I’m certain you’ll adore it.”

  Brendan stepped towards her and when she wrapped her arms around him, he felt the first peace he’d had in hours. As irritating and meddlesome as Caroline could be, she really was a warm and generous lady who genuinely cared about those fortunate enough to have earned her loyal devotion. For some reason he was one of those people.

  She stepped out of his arms and frowned at him. “Darling, what is it?”

  He could tell her, most of it, anyway. She would understand, commiserate even. However, that would make him appear weak. Brendan smiled tightly and lied, “I’m just worried about Rose is all.”

  Caroline nodded, linking her arm with his. “She wants a season in London.”

  She did, actually, but how Caroline knew that he had no idea. “Yes.”

  “I understand your reluctance. Part of her is growing up, but the other part is so…”

  “Immature,” he offered.

  Caroline smiled. “I was going to say innocent.”

  That worked too. “You were trying to gloss over the fact that she is completely ill-suited for such a thing. But making her understand it is something else.”

  They’d reached the blue parlor, but Caroline kept her hand on the knob. “Perhaps she simply needs something else to focus on. If you were to remarry, think of the e
xcitement Rose would enjoy.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone, Caroline, to keep Rose entertained or otherwise.”

  “You are stubborn,” Caroline said without heat. “All right, I’ll warn you. Your parlor is a bit different, and if you don’t like it you won’t hurt my feelings at all.”

  Brendan nodded, just wanting to get it over with.

  Caroline opened the door, holding it wide for him to step inside. The room was beautiful. No longer blue, it was green—the exact shade of Cordelia’s eyes. How had Caroline managed that? Even the large mirror and portraits were in new golden frames that reminded him of the flecks in her eyes. There was a new damask settee, a shade darker than the walls and two ornate chairs with soft, golden accents. A cherry wood writing desk and tables had been added, giving the room a warm feel it had lacked before.

  “So?” she asked hopefully.

  Cordelia had never been here, but it felt like her. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. He’d have to avoid this room like the plague, to keep from thinking of her.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you like it,” Caroline gushed. “And now, do you have plans for tonight?”

  Immediately, he was suspicious. “Why?”

  She frowned at him. “Well, I thought if you were free you might enjoy dining with Staveley and me tonight. It’s been forever since you’ve visited.”

  “Who else is going to be there?” He didn’t need to see Cordelia Avery just yet. Tomorrow was already too soon, and blindsiding him was something Caroline would do without any qualms.

  Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Just us. What is really wrong, Brendan?”

  “I just have a lot on my mind.” That was an understatement.

  She studied him, her mouth pursed, and he was afraid she might see through him. “I see. So, will you join us or not?”

  He could go to one of his clubs and get foxed. That would take Cordelia off his mind, at least for the night. Or he could go to a hell and get sucked into a game of Hazard. Astwick had his box at Drury Lane. That was a possibility as well. Nothing really appealed, however. He shrugged. Why not? “I’d be delighted.”

  ~ 15 ~

  It was unfortunate Philip chose Russell as his second. Tristan would be much easier to manipulate. Cordie paused outside the library and prepared herself. At least it was Russell. Gregory would be near impossible.

  She slowly pushed the door open and found Russell sitting in an over-stuffed leather chair, relaxing with a book and drinking some brandy. Perfect. Her middle brother was always the easiest to influence when he was drinking. She flopped down in a chair across from him and smiled sweetly.

  He looked up at her and raised his brow. “You want something.”

  “I do not.” She feigned innocence.

  Russell grinned at her. “I’ve not been gone all that long, Cordelia. When you want something your nose scrunches up just a bit.”

  Blast her brother for knowing her as well as she knew him. Not that she was going to let that deter her. “Russ, about—”

  He roared with laughter. “Russ? You only call me that if you’ve exhausted all other options. What is it, Cordie?”

  “Very well,” she said, sitting forward in her chair, disbanding all pretense and cutting to the chase. It would have been so much easier with Tristan. “This duel between Kelfield and Philip. It’s to be swords?”

  “How do you know that?” he asked, narrowing his green eyes on her.

  “Tristan.”

  Russell sat back in his chair with a humpf.

  “So it’s to be swords. Will it be first blood or to the death?”

  “Haversham hasn’t shown up to discuss the terms. And,” he said, pinning her with his gaze, “no, you won’t see him while he’s here.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Russell, the marquess is the last thing on my mind at the moment.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Olivia loves her husband. You would only have to see them together to know that. Please make it First Blood. It would destroy Livvie if Kelfield died. Injured she could live with.”

  “This is not something that concerns women, Cordie.”

  There it was again. Obnoxious brothers. She frowned at him. “Spoken like a pompous man.”

  He chuckled. “Tristan should be shot for even telling you in the first place.”

  “Well, I suppose since you’re all intent on killing each other, he can be next on the list.” Then she touched her brother’s leg. “Please. Livvie is my dearest friend, Russell. I don’t want to see her hurt. If either of them died, she would be devastated. You grew up with her, same as me. I know you don’t want that.”

  Russell sighed. “I’ll agree to it if Haversham will. But if you tell anyone that you talked me into this, I’ll deny it and put snakes in your bed again.”

  Cordie’s mouth fell open. “That was you?” Then she smacked him. “Russell Avery! On more than one occasion you and Gregory both told me Tristan was the culprit. I threw a rock at his head.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You always had awful aim.”

  He could laugh at her if he wanted to. One down, one to go. She kissed Russell’s cheek, then excused herself and made a beeline to the front parlor so that she had a good view of South Audley Street. The Marquess of Haversham wouldn’t get past her.

  ***

  Marc was still in awe by the turn of events. Kelfield had genuinely seemed reformed. For years he wouldn’t have been surprised to have been informed he was the duke’s second. The two of them had cut quite a swath through Town. But now? He couldn’t imagine what the happily married Kelfield had done to get himself into this sort of trouble. Not that it mattered. Kelfield had been his second in the past. Duty dictated he return the favor.

  How fortunate Major Moore’s second was Captain Russell Avery and the two of them were to establish the parameters of the duel. A legitimate reason to be at Avery House. With any luck he could get his hands back on the delightful Cordie while he was there, though that seemed like a long shot. Twice he’d tried to kiss the girl, only to be interrupted. His patience was wearing extremely thin.

  When his coach rumbled to a stop in front of Avery House, Marc didn’t wait for the steps to be lowered. He threw open the door and hopped out, but before he strode up the steps, a strange movement from the corner of the house caught his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw Brookfield’s unfortunate form lurking there, but after blinking a few times, he decided it was the moonlight and darkness playing tricks on his mind.

  Shaking his head, Marc turned back towards the front door and purposefully climbed the steps. Before he could knock, the door wrenched open. Standing before him was the exquisite Cordelia Avery, who flashed him a cheeky smile. “My lord, we meet again.”

  Sweet Lucifer, she was a vision—one he could barely wait to get his hands on. He grinned back. “Butler duties? What other talents are you hiding, Miss Avery?”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Marc almost stumbled but pulled her sweet little body against his. She sucked in a surprised breath. “Not here,” she whispered, pulling out of his grasp and tugging him towards the front parlor.

  If she wanted to be alone with him, he’d go anywhere she deemed.

  Once inside the parlor, Marc swiftly shut the door behind them and wasted no time in pulling her back into his arms. He wouldn’t be denied this time. Before she could speak, he pressed his lips to hers. His cock instantly sprang to life. She tasted like heaven, sin, and sweetness all rolled into one. She sighed softly and he splayed his hand across her back, pressing her closer to him. This was what he’d been waiting for.

  An instant later, she pushed at his chest and staggered backwards. “My lord, I need to speak with you.”

  “I much prefer what we were just doing,” he replied, barely touching the side of her neck. Though to be honest, he’d prefer a bit more than just kissing her. His breeches were already straining at the seams.

  Her cheeks heated and she shook her head. “Please, I don’t h
ave much time.”

  “What are you concerned about, angel?” he asked smoothly, kissing her fingers.

  “This duel—”

  “You know about that?” He dropped her hand. Her brothers should be shot for telling her. Women never understood this sort of thing. What were they thinking?

  “Please make it just to first blood drawn, my lord,” she begged quietly.

  First blood drawn? Marc shook his head. “Kelfield made it quite clear he wanted it to the death.”

  Cordie frowned at that, then she touched a button on his waistcoat. An invitation if he’d even seen one. “But as seconds, you and my brother set the stipulations.”

  “You do realize that neither gentleman would be happy with your interference?” he asked, towing her a bit closer. Her dress was simple, but from where he stood he had an exce

  “Please,” she whispered, placing her hand on his chest.

  Marc’s pulse quickened at her touch and he couldn’t resist holding her against him, relishing the feel of her breasts, the gentle slope of her hips, and wishing she was bare before him. “I suppose I could be convinced to see things your way,” he replied in a gravelly voice.

  Cordie tipped her head back and began to play again with one of his buttons. “What would it take, my lord?”

  The naughty chit was making it most uncomfortable to remain fully clothed. Marc’s grin widened. “What are you offering?” As if he didn’t know. He just wanted to hear her say the words.

  She smiled coyly. “A kiss.”

  A kiss? She was a tease. Marc stroked her neck, dipped his head toward hers and whispered in her ear, “You’ve already kissed me, Cordelia. I want something else.”

  “A kiss is all I can offer,” she replied softly.

  “But you’ll kiss me again. Right now, if I wish it, because you enjoy my kiss. That’s not a bargaining chip, my beautiful temptress.”

  She sighed. “I do enjoy your kiss, but I can go forever without having it again.”

  The little minx knew she had him. She had to feel his straining cock against her belly. Marc stared at the pretty girl in his arms. What game was she playing? They both wanted the same thing. He could barely think straight.