A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4)

by Ava Stone

  What she needed to do was focus on Haversham. Correspondence was out. Her mother was already keeping an eye on letters coming and going, preventing her any contact with Livvie. The only time she’d been allowed out of the house without her mother in the last three weeks was the ride in the park with Clayworth. But Haversham was clever. Perhaps he’d think of something.

  He knew she was going to Norfolk. What if he truly didn’t know what he’d do without her over the next fortnight? What if he came for her? Would he rush her to Scotland? Her mother would be scandalized by a Gretna Green wedding, but she would be Lady Haversham by that time. It wouldn’t matter.

  A knock came at her door. Cordie sat bolt upright. “Yes?”

  Her mother bustled inside, wearing the brightest smile Cordie had seen in a very long time. “You are the luckiest girl, Cordelia.”

  Silently she agreed, though for very different reasons than she thought her mother did. She stared blankly at her mother, intent on not giving anything away.

  “I’ve never seen a man stare so intently at a woman before.” She squeezed Cordie’s hands tightly. “I don’t know what you did to capture Clayworth’s attention, but he appears quite besotted.”

  Besotted? She’d seen the look on the earl’s face. He was angry and annoyed. Her mother was simply seeing what she wanted to see.

  “Mother, I-I don’t care for Clayworth. Not one whit. You know how terrible he was to Marina. How could you want the same thing for me?”

  Lady Avery frowned. “Perhaps we were wrong.”

  Cordie leapt off her bed, scowling at her mother. Of all the things she could say! “Or perhaps you’re perfectly content with throwing me to the lions. I heard her with my own ears, Mother. Marina was miserable with him. And I must say, I see her point. He is void of emotion—” if one discounted anger, “—and I will never accept him. There is nothing you can do.”

  Her mother’s lips pursed in anger. “Cordelia, I have been too lenient with you in your formative years. I see that now, but no longer. If—when—Lord Clayworth asks for your hand, Gregory will accept him. And you will do your duty.”

  When. Cordie scowled. She would simply have to make sure he never offered, then.

  “We are going to dinner at the Astwicks’, and I’ll expect you to be on your best behavior.”

  “The Astwicks?” They weren’t part of the Averys’ set. The dowager was one of the most powerful women in London, a dragon, and an idol of sorts to her mother.

  Lady Avery’s bright smile returned. “Isn’t it wonderful? Your association with Lord Clayworth has opened many doors.”

  Doors Cordie would be just as happy if they’d remained closed. Clayworth. Did that mean the earl would be there too? She didn’t think she could look at him again.

  ***

  Brendan walked into the Astwick drawing room, quickly spotting Chet through the small crowd. He crossed the floor in a few strides and nodded to his old friend, who had his arm around his wife’s waist. Chet beamed when their eyes met. “So you’re being social after all.”

  Brendan shrugged. “It’s so rare that your mother sends a complimentary note, I didn’t dare refuse.”

  Chet’s booming laugh attracted a few eyes, but the other guests quickly went back to their conversations, all of them accustomed to Astwick’s always too-loud demeanor. Hannah smiled, stepped out of her husband’s embrace and touched her lips to Brendan’s cheek. “Her ladyship is simply ecstatic about your courtship. She says you were in mourning far too long.”

  “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?

  ~ 8 ~

  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, n
ot 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 she 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?”

  She nodded, still frowning at him. “We leave on the morrow.”

  Thank God!

  He could try to get his mind straight in the interim. “And you’ll be gone a fortnight?”

  “Yes.”

  Relief washed over him. He could return to Derbyshire and check in on Thomas and Rose while she was away, while she was safe from Haversham. He could use the time to get himself under control. Then when he returned to Town, he’d search for the letters, and keep Miss Avery safe from herself. As far as plans went, it was filled with holes, but for a man who suddenly found himself drowning, it was like grabbing on to floating balsa wood.

  Brendan flashed her his most charming smile. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for your return before we schedule our ride then.”

  When the women finally left the men to their port, it couldn’t have been a moment too soon. Brendan’s last hold on his control was dangling by the tiniest of threads. All throughout dinner he’d had to endure Chet boasting about Brendan’s every accomplishment to Miss Avery, rattling off his estates and properties. It was as if his friend thought he was incapable of courting the girl on his own. Of course he wasn’t courting her, not really. But if he was, he wouldn’t need any help, and certainly not from Chet of all people. His friend didn’t even know the meaning of the word subtle.