A Scandalous Pursuit Page 22

  The words brought a smile to his face. He worshiped her too, ever since they were children. “How soon do you think I can marry her? I don’t want to wait three weeks.”

  “Lord Staveley has connections to the Archbishop. I’m sure you won’t have to.”

  Philip was elated to finally be back on English soil. He’d sat in a carriage all the way from Dover, across from his two dearest friends, Captain Russell Avery and the captain’s younger brother, Lieutenant Tristan Avery. Now as they rambled towards South Audley Street, he could hardly believe the journey was coming to an end. They had all grown up together, but after experiencing the hells of war by each other’s sides, the three of them were closer than most brothers.

  Still one didn’t want to intrude. “Are you sure your mother won’t mind putting me up for a while?” he asked his compatriots. He could find a lodging house for a day or two, just long enough to see Olivia and obtain a special license, before they returned to his land in Nottinghamshire. God, how he missed Olivia Danbury! The memory of her smile and charming dimple had gotten him through most of the war. Her ethereal beauty and kind heart. There was no other woman like her in the world. And she was his.

  He couldn’t wait to see her again!

  Russell snorted. “For God’s sake, Moore, you saved Tris’ arse more than once. You’ll have a damn near impossible time getting mother to let you leave.”

  “Too true,” Tristan added with a weary smile. “Besides you’re family in every way that counts. I do hope Cordie doesn’t drag us off to balls and such. I never much cared for those sorts of affairs.”

  “Ah, but think of it,” Russell began with a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes, “we’re returning heroes. Girls will be throwing themselves in our path.”

  “I’d rather be left alone,” Tristan grumbled.

  When their coach came to an abrupt stop, Russell threw open the door and anxiously jumped out of the conveyance.

  Philip followed him out but bumped into his strangely immobile friend. “Out of the way, Avery.”

  Russell stepped aside and shook his head in astonishment. “Tris,” he hissed, momentarily glancing back over his shoulder at his brother. “I know it’s been forever, but isn’t that the Marquess of Haversham?”

  All three men strained their necks to see a well-dressed gentleman ambling down the street. Philip had never met the marquess, but the brothers Avery had once been patrons of a fashionable bawdy house which the infamous Haversham frequented on a regular basis.

  “It looks like him,” Tristan confirmed.

  “I thought so,” Russell said morosely. “He just left our home.”

  “Our home?” Tristan echoed. “What would a man like that be doing at Avery House?”

  The answer hit all three of them at the same time. “Dear God,” Russell muttered. “If he touches one hair on Cordelia’s head, I’ll shoot him.”

  “Only if you get to him before I do.” Tristan replied, scowling after the nobleman’s now disappearing form.

  Philip sighed deeply. He didn’t envy his friends in the least. Cordelia Avery had always had a bit of a stubborn streak, but he’d thought she would have outgrown that by now. How fortunate he was that Livvie was so level-headed.

  The coachmen threw their bags down from the top of the rig and the three officers ascended the steps to the Averys’ fashionable townhouse. The door was wrenched open, and they were assaulted by the disembodied shrill screams of Lady Avery. “Do you think I want you following in Olivia’s scandalous footsteps, young lady?”

  Olivia’s scandalous footsteps? The three officers quickly piled inside the entryway and Sanders shut the door behind them.

  “Livvie is happy, Mama!” Cordelia Avery’s irate voice echoed off the walls. “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 the three men looked at each other horrified expressions.

  Philip was certain they’d missed something. Olivia wasn’t a duchess. At least his Olivia wasn’t. Although he would like to know what exactly they were shouting about.

  “Gabriel Seaton was a dictatorial prig and I’m glad he’s gone.”

  Russell turned to Sanders, standing stoically by the door. “You’d best announce us before it gets any worse.”

  The butler nodded and slinked down the hallway.

  Tristan frowned at Philip. “Did she say Olivia was a duchess?”

  Philip shook his head. It must be someone else. “We must have misheard.”

  “I only heard Haversham.” Russell remarked, stalking after the butler, quickly followed by the other two. A moment later, a squeal of joy came from one of the rooms. Then the door flew open, and Lady Avery and Cordie rushed out into the hallway. Russell embraced their mother while Tristan was nearly knocked to the floor by their sister, then they switched partners.

  Philip watched the excitement, smiling widely. It was good to be home.

  “Philip Moore!” Lady Avery rushed towards him, 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,” the baroness demanded, directing the group 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.”

  Philip soon found himself, sitting on an uncomfortable settee in a light blue parlor, lined from wall to wall with knick-knacks of various sizes and colors. A frilly room to be sure. It reminded him instantly of the Averys’ estate outside Papplewick.

  As the Averys gushed over each other, he watched the scene with an overflowing heart, though his mind was still trying sort through the strange argument had greeted them on their arrival. It had sounded like Cordie said Olivia was a duchess.

  He was relieved when Cordie, who he’d known her entire life, took the seat next to him. “It is good to see you, Philip. We have been so worried about all of you.”

  “Indeed we have!” Lady Avery seconded, then 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,” the lieutenant protested.

  “Don’t listen to him, mother,” Russell interrupted. Then he began to tell the Avery women how Philip had knocked Tristan to the ground seconds before a ball would have lodged itself inside his chest. The lieutenant had suffered from a broken arm, but otherwise he was whole and hale.

  Philip knew the story and he paid no attention to the retelling. His mind was echoing, ‘Livvie is happy and a duchess!’ over and over. When he couldn’t take it anymore he touched Cordie’s hand. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were yelling when we arrived.”

  Cordelia Avery blanched and the room fell to silence.

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

  “See here,” Russell cut in, apparently just now remembering the argument they had interrupted. “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 remarked mordantly. “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 at his sister. “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. 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 her brothers— “had better keep your pistols and swords to yourselves, or I’ll never forgive you.”

  Lady Avery smiled wistfully at her sons. “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 at his side.

  “Ever since Olivia what? Please tell me.”

  Cordie’s green eyes dropped to the floor. “I-I suppose that means you don’t know.”

  “Know what?” he demanded, pulse racing through his veins.

  Cordie glanced up at him, an apologetic smile on her face. “I don’t think she meant for it to happen, Philip. It just did.”

  “What happened?” he nearly bellowed.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, you see, we’d gone to a house party in Derbyshire at the home of the Duke of Prestwick—”

  Livvie is happy and a duchess! “She married the Duke of Prestwick?” He didn’t know the duke and shook his head, thoroughly confused.

  “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 abounded, and we were dreadfully bored.”

  Philip was beyond frustration and he rubbed his forehead. “For the love of God, Cordelia, pray get to the point.”

  When it appeared she would not, Lady Avery cleared her throat and explained. “The Duke of Kelfield was in attendance as well, Philip.” Her frown was most disconcerting, making his heart constrict in his chest. “The girls returned early from the country and two days later Olivia was Kelfield’s duchess. I’m unsure of what all 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. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Mama. And yet you insist on keeping me locked up here like some villain.”

  Philip stopped listening for the most part, though he could still make out bits and pieces of the argument. His broken heart stopped beating and he sank back against the settee. His hopes and dreams gone, without his knowledge, without a fight from him. Everything he’d ever wanted had been stolen from him. His dear, loving Olivia. It was too awful to accept.

  The Duke of Kelfield? There wasn’t a more depraved soul in all of England. How could this have happened? What had the man done to his poor, sweet girl? Had he forced his attentions on Livvie? Compromised her in some way? Of course he had! Livvie was honest and honorable. She would never go willingly to Kelfield or anyone else.

  The wind rushed out of him. Numb, he couldn’t think or feel. “Dear God,” he finally muttered under his breath. Then he leapt to his feet. “I’ll kill him!”

  As he started for the door, Cordie wailed behind him. “Philip, no! Please stop! Listen to reason.”

  But there was no reason to what had happened to him. He’d left England, an adoring fiancée, and a promising future, only to return to find it all had been stolen from him in the most indecent of ways. He had to kill Kelfield. He didn’t have a choice. Someone had to free Olivia from the bastard.

  They could send him to the gallows for all he cared. As long as Olivia was safe, it would be worth it.

  Philip rushed outside and hailed a hack. “Kelfield House,” he barked, hoping the driver knew the location since he did not.

  Warm light suddenly poured into Livvie’s room. She groaned, rolled over, and tried to block the assaulting brightness from her eyes. She never wanted to get out of bed, and she wanted to stay like this until the end of time.

  “Come on, Your Grace, it is very late,” Molly said from somewhere near the drapes.

  Then she vaguely heard Poppy’s little voice ask, “Is she sick?”

  “Oh, little dear, it’s just the natural way of things. Her Grace will probably sleep in late most days in the coming months,” the maid explained.

  Livvie managed to sit up. Her eyes were still sore from having cried herself to sleep and her bones and muscles were drained and weary. When she opened her eyes, Poppy stood beside her, smiling widely.

  “You are a slug-a-bed. You’re late for our tea party.”

  Late for tea? It couldn’t be past four. “What time is it?” she asked Molly.

  “Quarter of five, Your Grace.”

  Quarter of five? “Can’t be.” She’d never slept so late in all her life. Livvie threw off the counterpane and swung her feet over the side. Then the room began to spin and she closed her eyes again.

  Molly touched a hand to her brow. “Miss Poppy, why don’t you wait for the duchess in the gold parlor? I’ll have her down shortly.”

  Livvie heard the patter of Poppy’s feet race from the room, then she blinked her eyes open to find Molly’s concerned expression hanging over her. “I’ll be fine, Molly. I just had a bad night.” The images of Alex’s hardened jaw and cold eyes washed over her. Livvie almost shivered. She needed to set the situation to rights. “Will you ask the duke to attend me?”

  Molly pursed her lips. “His Grace left in the dead of night and he hasn’t returned.”

  A new wave of illness washed over Livvie. He was still furious with her or he would be home at quarter of five. He always enjoyed his afternoons with Poppy. Livvie groaned and wiped at a tear that was stinging one of her swollen eyes. She’d never felt so awful in her entire life. “Does Gibson know where he is?” she asked hopefully.

  The maid shook her head. “I’m sure he’ll come home, but not until he’s good and ready. Men like the duke do things in their own time and not before. In the meanwhile, Your Grace, you need to concern yourself with your own health.”

  Her Grace will probably sleep in late most days in the coming months. Livvie frowned. “Molly, why did you tell Poppy I’d start to sleep late?”

  Molly took a deep breath. “You might not. My mother did with each of her babes. But every woman’s different.”

  Livvie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Babes? But, Molly, I’m not…” And then she started thinking back. She and Alex had been married for six weeks. She hadn’t had her courses in eight. Everything had been so hectic since they’d met, she hadn’t noticed that her time hadn’t come.

  It was probably nerves. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’s gone three months without her courses after Philip had left for the continent. But once her anxiety had settled, her body had returned to normal. She had certainly been living with as much anxiety now as she was then. Still, it would be best to be sure one way or the other. “Please arrange for Doctor Watts to pay me a visit.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  After Molly helped her into a peach day dress adorned in white ribbons, Livvie made her way down the stairs. Her empty stomach grumbled and she looked forward to tea and scones with Poppy. Anything that was part of her normal routine would be good.

  As she turned down the corridor towards the gold parlor, Alex’s familiar chuckle halted her. She almost wept, she was so relieved. Livvie stepped inside the room, thrilled to see Poppy sitting on Alex’s lap enchanting him with one of her unicorn stories.

  “Your imagination is intoxicating, my love,” he said to his daughter, kissing the top of her head.

  Livvie cleared her throat and stepped towards the pair, only to see Alex’s smile vanish. Her heart ached to see his stubborn jaw was still tight with anger. His steely eyes pierced her soul and she nervously searched for something to say. “Molly said you hadn’t returned.”

  “Well, apparently, Molly was wrong.” His icy voice washed over her, leaving her cold and miserable. Then he shifted Poppy from his lap and ran his hand along her curls. “Be a good girl for me.”

  Poppy nodded her h
ead. “How long will you be gone, Papa?”

  “I don’t know, angel.”

  “You’re leaving?” Livvie asked, dismayed.

  His cold eyes flashed to hers. “I have business to attend to, Olivia.” Then he rose from his seat and lifted Poppy in the air, planting a large, smacking kiss on her cheek. “Go back to Mrs. Bickle for just a little while.”

  As Poppy slinked from the room, Livvie refocused on her husband, whose angry eyes found hers. The uncomfortable distance between them was killing her. She had to explain. “Alex, please don’t leave. I know you’re furious with me, but I was only reading a letter.”

  He scoffed. Loudly. “You were reading a letter from the man you love. A letter that you purposefully kept hidden from me. And you were reading the letter in the middle of the night, when I’m sure you felt it was safe to do so without my knowledge. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  Livvie stepped towards him. “You are the man I love, Alex. I was reading the letter, but…”

  “And how many others were there, Olivia? How many other nights that I know nothing about?”

  “It’s not like that. And it was only last night—”

  “Of course,” he said mockingly. “How unfortunate that I caught you the one night you were disloyal to me.”

  “Disloyal?” she squeaked. Then she shook her head, “Alex, it was only a letter. I only received it yesterday, and I didn’t think you’d understand. I wonder, where would I get an idea like that?”

  “Sarcasm does not become you.”

  “And acting a tyrant does not become you.”

  He simply glared at her, and Olivia moved closer to him, confident that if she could just touch him, he would lose his anger. “Please, let us speak calmly. I do not want us to suffer through another night as we just did.”

  “Olivia,” he replied icily, stepping away from her, “you have no say on how I spend my nights. And I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  What did he mean by that? Livvie frowned. “Alexander Everett, as your wife—”

  He laughed derisively. “Do not mistake me for a dolt, Olivia. You are only my wife because you were caught in my room, and not for any other reason.”