Family Scandals

by Denise Patrick

  “That’s enough, Michael,” Felicia said firmly. “You needn’t belabor the point. Marcus and Corinna aren’t such ogres that they will snap at you over the misuse of a name.”

  Marcus and Brand entered just then and Corinna glanced up at Marcus before turning back to Michael with a smile. “I don’t know. My brother once told me Marcus was an ogre, and he eats seven-year-olds, as long as they are not scrawny or burned.”

  The twins eyes grew round as they looked up at their uncle, the duke and duchess looking on in amusement. Marcus’s eyes sought and held hers, the shared memory surfacing in his. In that moment, everyone else faded away and they were the only occupants of the room. A blush spread across her cheeks as his eyes turned soft, then the spell was broken as he spoke.

  “Not anymore,” he said in a deep voice. “Seven-year-olds might have been enough for a seventeen-year old, but I need bigger game now.” A wolfish grin spread across his face. “I think now I’d prefer twenty-two year olds, even if they are a little overdone.”

  Corinna wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Her cheeks burned even hotter, and she knew the duke and duchess were watching the byplay with far more interest than she wanted. Unfortunately, she was the one who had brought the subject up, so she had no one but herself to blame.

  “Papa doesn’t like burned food,” Michael piped up, dispelling the mood.

  Marcus ruffled the boy’s dark hair and said, “Very few people do.”

  The tea tray arrived and Corinna fell easily into the role of hostess, pouring cups of the steaming brew and offering everyone the delicacies to be found on the tray. Marcus seated himself beside her, causing a warm flush to begin where their thighs touched.

  Over tea, the twins regaled their aunt and uncle with the details of their day. Spent in the company of their parents, the children were in high spirits and eager to fill them in on every minute.

  “Papa says Mama swims like a fish,” Michael told her.

  “She does,” Brand responded. “And so do you.”

  “Since we have been coming down here, I have never wanted the children to be afraid of the water,” Felicia told Corinna and Marcus. “Teaching them to swim was the best way to ensure that. Unfortunately, they now have no fear whatsoever of the water, and I’m not so sure that is a good thing either.”

  “Aunt Corinna can’t swim,” Michael informed the group. “Maybe we should teach her.”

  Marcus looked at her. “All those fishing trips and we never taught you to swim?”

  She shook her head. “You might remember Douglas barely let me near the water as it was.” She looked at Felicia. “My brother was extremely overprotective.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Marcus remarked.

  “He had his reasons,” she told him soberly. Douglas had understood her siblings were not averse to doing her harm. He had often told her she should not play with them unless she got permission from her mother first. Most often, her mother said no when she wanted to join Diana and her friends. At first, she thought it was because Diana was so much older—five years her senior. But later she realized it was because her mother did not trust Diana to watch over her.

  “Then Marcus must teach you,” Brand said. “If you are to live here, learning to swim is a must.”

  “I agree.” Marcus’s voice was firm. Leaning toward her so that his lips brushed her ear, he said softly, “It will be my pleasure.”

  She was glad she’d put down her cup and saucer. She surely would have dropped it at the sensations that raced down her back.

  The conversation moved back into neutral waters as she pulled herself together and Caroline began telling Corinna about their explorations in a different cove and the new things they found.

  “I hope you and Marcus had a good day as well?” Felicia said during a lull in the twins’ recitations.

  “We did,” Corinna answered. “Although, I’m afraid I haven’t spent so much time in the saddle in such a long time, I will probably feel it tomorrow.”

  Felicia asked her where they went, and Corinna gave her an abbreviated description of her day.

  After tea, Marcus and Brand returned to the library to finish their discussion about safety in the mines while she and Felicia remained in the parlor, entertained by Michael and Caroline. Soon, however, the twins began to tire, so Felicia said it was time for them to head back upstairs. Corinna went along to help.

  “It’s not very often we get the chance to spend so much time with them alone,” Felicia told her as they followed the twins upstairs, “so you needn’t feel guilty about leaving me to watch over my own children. Unlike most of our class, I never intended to be an arm’s-length parent. They are only children for so long.”

  Once in the nursery, Felicia was diverted by John, who had spent the day with only Nurse Timson for company, and Corinna fell easily back into the role of governess, helping the two children into nightshirts while Penny was sent for their supper tray.

  Chapter Twelve

  Corinna is delightful. Although she seems familiar, I am sure I have never met her before.

  Eliza Cookeson, Countess of Barrington, to Lady Marian Cookeson, her aunt by marriage

  The next few days had Corinna reexamining her initial feelings of idleness. Between touring the house with Mrs. Barker, becoming familiar with the household staff and its routine, and noting some refurbishing that might need to be done, she had little time to remember she had recently been worried about having nothing to do at all.

  She was surprised to discover the gallery still contained portraits of previous earls and their families. Assuming Marcus’s father had ensured they’d been kept clean and in good condition, she spent quite a bit of time returning to examine the line from which Marcus descended. When she reached the painting of the last earl and his family, she stood before it for a long time, studying the three persons depicted.

  Old Ben was right. Marcus did resemble his grandfather, most especially around the eyes and mouth. The earl’s hair was darker, but she remembered Marcus’s as being much darker before he went to India. It was hard to tell if he got his nose from his mother as she couldn’t have been much older than the twins in the portrait Corinna now stood before.

  Corinna studied her all the same. Her dark eyes looked out at the world as if she knew it was hers to explore. The painter had captured a stubborn chin, but softened the mouth so the smile radiated warmth and curiosity. She had been a lovely child and Corinna wondered if her suffering had completely subdued the tenaciously sweet child the picture seemed to portray.

  The countess sat beside her daughter, ramrod straight, the smile on her face not quite reaching her dark eyes. Dressed in a sumptuous gown in cloth of gold trimmed in red velvet and wearing a magnificent necklace of square-cut rubies, each one surrounded by a complement of smaller topazes, a coronet of the same stones in her dark hair, she was astonishingly beautiful. Yet, she seemed unapproachable, and Corinna wondered if the reason she seemed so was because the locals had kept her at arm’s length. Perhaps she had used her haughtiness as a shield to deflect the pain of not being accepted.

  The earl stood behind the small sofa the countess perched on, one hand on his wife’s shoulder, the other arm around his daughter, who sat on the back. His eyes seemed to be looking out of the painting, but Corinna noted if she watched his eyes carefully, he was actually looking at his wife and daughter, the love in his eyes encompassing them both. Would Marcus ever look at her that way?

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she heard his footfalls approaching on the polished floor.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “They look the ideal family, although your grandmother is a bit stern for my taste.”

  “I suspect she felt she had to be that way. After what Old Ben told us, I would guess she didn’t feel very welcome.”

  She turned away from the picture to look at him. “I suspect you’re right.” She moved closer and his arms went around her.
With his coat open, she rested her head against his chest. “Do you suppose the locals blame her for what happened to your grandfather?”

  “It’s possible,” he responded. “At least, I think I have figured out why my father never allowed my mother to come here.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m guessing it was the price she paid for depriving him of his sons, although I’m not sure anything she might have suffered could have equaled his. When we were young, my father spent so much time with Eliza and me that my mother often spoke of having three children instead of two. I wonder how often he thought of Brand and Michael.”

  Corinna was silent, waiting for more of an explanation. His heart beat strongly beneath her ear, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin linen of his shirt. He smelled of spicy soap and outdoors, and she wondered where he had been.

  Marcus’s voice was heavy as he continued. “She obviously loved this place. The people I have spoken to all say she was well-known and well-liked. I don’t doubt that, after marrying her, my father might have considered bringing her here but he didn’t come here often himself. Despite my grandfather’s death, the estate was well run, and once a steward was put in place, my father pretty much ignored it.

  “After my father discovered her background, it’s likely he chose not to bring her here for the very reasons she might have wanted to come. Even after his death, his instructions to Brand were that she was to be allowed to live anywhere—except here.”

  “But she is buried here,” Corinna stated.

  “Yes. My father’s last letter to Brand indicated he wanted her to be allowed to rest beside her father.” A wry smile touched his lips. “She was willing to kill for him, so it was fitting she be allowed to rest beside him.”

  They stood there in silence for a while, then Corinna asked, “Do you suppose she’d be happy for you?”

  “I would hope so.” His tone sounded as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. “But her original goal had been for me to be in Brand’s shoes.”

  She raised her head from his chest and looked up into his eyes. The golden flecks shone in the depths. “And you?”

  He shook his head. “The truth is I was so grateful when Brand showed up, I went out and got roaring drunk. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.”

  Surprised, she asked, “You didn’t want to be a duke?”

  “No. Not ever.” He smiled and her heart stuttered. When his eyes darkened, she knew he was no longer thinking of his family and anticipation raced through her.

  Suddenly he bent his head and briefly touched his lips to hers. Warmth flooded her entire body. “I like it when you kiss me,” she said.

  Marcus chuckled at her. “You do, hmmm?” She nodded. “Why?”

  Corinna dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt where her fingers played with a small button. “It–it makes me…feel tingly all over.”

  Looking down at her dark head, Marcus was glad she did not understand the effect she had on him. After a few nights of kissing her goodnight he was in a state of nearly perpetual arousal. Perhaps it was time to expand her horizons a little.

  She was an innocent, but that did not prevent him from dreaming about her in his bed, her silky skin flushed from their lovemaking. Her hair would be spread across the pillows, the lamplight picking out the red and gold strands.

  Lifting his hand, he tipped her chin up to look down into her face. “I like it when you kiss me back.”

  “You do?” The amazement in her voice nearly made him laugh again. “I’ve never kissed anyone else.”

  He did laugh then. “And you never shall, either,” he growled, tightening his arms around her. “From now on, all your kisses are mine.”

  She lifted up on her toes and placed her lips briefly against his. “Just as long as I can claim the same privilege.”

  He readily agreed, then no words were spoken for some time. When they emerged from the gallery to discover it was nearly tea time, her eyes were bright, her lips red and swollen from his kisses.

  Marcus and Brand were bent over the large desk in the library, a map of the estate spread out before them.

  “Widening this canal would be your best bet,” Brand was saying to Marcus. “I don’t think you want to try to dig another one, but if you did, here rather than here might work.” Brand gestured to locations on the map as he spoke.

  Marcus nodded. Pointing to the two areas Brand indicated, he said, “I agree. Yesterday when I was out in this direction, I noticed that just about here, there is a solid rock base. At this point here, there is soft soil, but I don’t think further up here, there is the same. If I…”

  Pulliam cleared his throat, interrupting Marcus’s explanation. “Your pardon, my lord, but a carriage is approaching. I believe guests are arriving.”

  “Thank you, Pulliam,” Marcus acknowledged, and glanced over at Brand as the butler left. “I think I would have preferred to wait until Corinna and I arrived in town to be re-united with Eliza.”

  Brand chuckled. “You can’t possibly be worried about your reception.”

  Marcus grimaced. “Even had you and Michael not disappeared, neither of you would have ever been her younger brother.” Turning, he headed for the door. Halfway across the room, he realized Brand had remained. “Are you not coming?” he threw back over his shoulder.

  “I think you and Corinna are perfectly capable of welcoming our sister to your home,” was the matter-of-fact reply.

  As he reached the door, however, Brand called out to him and he turned.

  “Eliza and Trent, understandably, know of your new status, but they know nothing about your mother’s involvement in Trent’s father’s death. Felicia and I did not feel they needed to know.”

  Marcus hadn’t consciously realized part of him dreaded this meeting because of that knowledge. But the relaxing of tension in his stomach that he hadn’t known was there told him otherwise.

  “Thank you,” he said, then went through the door.

  The front doors stood open as he descended the stairs to the front foyer and he could see two coaches coming up the drive. Eliza’s husband, Trent, was the Earl of Barrington. He had come into his title when he was quite young, after his father had been murdered by a highwayman. At least that was the story everyone else knew. He now knew different.

  The previous Earl of Barrington had been one of the operatives who had worked with his father during the Napoleonic War and, therefore, one of the men involved in investigating his grandfather. He had tried to remember when Eliza married, if his mother had tried to discourage Trent’s suit in any way. But he hadn’t been able to. If she had, it would have been in the early days and he would have been at school.

  Ironically, he and Douglas had just left Eliza’s wedding when they had turned up at Houghton Hall and he had met Corinna for the first time. A mere seven years later he had left Brand’s wedding, stopped again at Houghton Hall again, but that time he’d left there married to Corinna.

  Corinna joined him just as Trent was helping Eliza from the carriage. The second carriage, he surmised, would contain his nephews and niece with their governess. Briefly he wondered where the twins were.

  He looked down at Corinna as Eliza and Trent came up the steps. She looked flushed, her eyes overbright, and it suddenly occurred to him she was nervous. Even more so than he.

  She was wearing one of her new dresses, a dark-green brushed wool, inset with white lace in the bodice and buttoned all the way up to the neck. The same delicate lace was to be found at the end of the long, close-fitting sleeves and in the ruchings along the front edge of the skirt. Her hair was upswept in a soft style that allowed a lone ringlet to curl down over one shoulder. It begged to be touched, and his fingers itched to do so. Instead, he slipped an arm around her waist for support and banished his wayward thoughts.

  Corinna watched the blonde, elegantly clad woman climb the steps, trepidation building inside. Would Marcus’s sister like her? Or would she take one look at her and think h
er a pretender? The fluttering in her stomach subsided a bit when Marcus slipped his arm around her waist, but she still could not calm it completely.

  The woman reached the top step, the roses in her cheeks complementing the cranberry-colored pelisse she wore. Her hair was dark gold, her eyes mirroring the twins’, and her smile, which took in the both of them, was warm and welcoming. Instantly, Corinna was reminded of the duke. If Marcus had grown up with these two as siblings, he would have felt like a changeling. She wondered if their father had been blond.

  “I couldn’t believe it when Felicia wrote that you were home,” Eliza said in greeting. “I hope you have a good reason for not informing me yourself,” she scolded him affectionately.

  “It’s good to see you again too, Eliza,” was all Marcus said. Eliza had turned questioning eyes on Corinna as Marcus spoke, noting the arm wrapped possessively about her waist. Marcus didn’t wait to satisfy her curiosity. “Allow me to present my wife, Corinna. Corinna, this is my sister, Eliza. She’s an interfering dragon, but always means well.”

  “Your wife!” Eliza’s exclamation was not unexpected. “But, how wonderful. You said nothing about this in any of your letters. How long have you been married? And why didn’t Felicia say anything? Or Brand? Why is it I am always the last to know?” she complained.

  All the while she talked, she enveloped Corinna in a fragrant, lilac-scented hug, and threw questions at her brother, who had turned to greet his brother-in-law.

  “How are you, Trent?” Marcus asked, ignoring his sister. “I hope the trip wasn’t too tedious.”

  The four entered the foyer, and Trent looked around curiously. “Not at all. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this far south before. Interesting country.”

  “Since Felicia informed me you were on the way, I already have rooms prepared for you,” Corinna was telling Eliza. “And Felicia suggested the children would be comfortable in the nursery with their cousins.”