by Ava Stone
“I was a bit surprised.”
That little sneak. What had Cordelia done to arrange this outcome? “Tell me, did your sister have anything to do with this?”
The captain blanched.
Dear God, she was trouble. He just hadn’t realized how much until this moment.
~ 17 ~
Cordie crossed the floor to Philip’s side. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never seemed this distraught. She smiled. “How are you holding up, Philip?”
His frown deepened. “Have you seen her?”
Livvie. Cordie shook her head. “I’ve not been allowed. Did you see her?”
He nodded, pain marred his face. Cordie linked her arm with his. Poor man. She wished she could wave a magic wand and take away all his misery.
“She was there when I challenged him, begging him not to accept, then begging me to withdraw.”
How awful for Livvie. She couldn’t imagine what she would feel if she’d witnessed such a scene with Clayworth. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Philip had been Livvie’s fiancé and Kelfield was her husband. Clayworth would never be either to Cordie, and she really shouldn’t think of him in such a way—it was already too hard to see him.
“I just can’t believe she loves him,” Philip muttered.
“Did she say that?”
Philip nodded. “I saw her face in my mind every night I was away. I only got through the war, knowing I was coming home to her.”
“Oh, Philip,” Cordie said softly, “you got through the war because you’re a soldier and you were trained to do so.”
“Many trained soldiers didn’t make it home, Cordie. And I hate war. Only now I wish I was still there. I wish there was an enemy I could tear apart with my hands.”
That was a bit gruesome. Cordie sucked in a breath. Before she could find words to respond to Philip, the Earl of Clayworth stood before her, wearing his usual frown. Though she couldn’t imagine what he had to frown about this time. He was the one who burst through her dining room doors uninvited, acting like she couldn’t be trusted more than a few hours in her own care. “My lord,” she muttered.
“Major, do you mind?” Clayworth asked, offering his arm to Cordie at the same time.
“No, of course not,” Philip replied.
Cordie glared at Clayworth before accepting his arm. What was he about?
“Miss Avery,” he began smoothly, “I’m afraid something has come up, and we’ll have to postpone our ride.”
Something came up? What could possibly have come up since dinner? Cordie shrugged. She should probably keep her distance from him anyway.
“My dear, would now be a good time for you to show me those books on Scandinavia?”
A blush crept up her neck at the memory those words brought. The last time they were in a library together, the way he’d kissed her. She couldn’t be alone with him again, not like that. It was already too hard to be in his presence. Besides, she was quite annoyed with him at the moment.
“No need, sir. Tristan lived there for a year. I’m certain he’d be happy to tell you whatever you’d like to know.”
He squeezed her fingers meaningfully. “But your brother seems otherwise engaged at the moment, and I am very interested now.”
Cordie narrowed her eyes on him. Irritating man. “I’m sure I can convince him to share his memories with you.”
“Cordelia,” her mother barked, “why are you being difficult? Show Lord Clayworth to the library.”
She’d like to show him right out the front door. “My lord,” she almost growled.
When he calmly raised his brow, she wanted to jump out of her skin. She allowed him to lead her to the corridor, but once they were alone, she dropped his arm and stalked down the hallway. Clayworth said nothing, but he was right behind her the entire time. She turned one corner, then another, finally stopping at the library door.
“There you are, my lord. I believe Tris’ books are all on the top of the first shelf. Do help yourself.”
She turned to leave, but he grasped her arm, forcing her into the library and sending jolts of awareness through her. Blast him for making her heart race when she was so angry with him. Cordie tipped her head back and looked up into his twilight eyes.
“What did you promise Haversham to garner his support for your little plan?” Clayworth asked evenly.
Her mouth fell open. How could he possibly know what transpired between herself and the marquess? Was he spying on her? “How dare you?”
“How dare you?” he countered, towering over her. “Did you not promise me this very afternoon you’d be careful?”
She blanched. “It was for a good cause.”
“A good cause?” he echoed menacingly. “There is no cause that is worth your safety, Cordelia. For God’s sake, the haphazard way in which you go through life is enough to put me in an early grave.”
“I take offense to that. I do not go through life in a haphazard way. I think things through logically and make sound decisions.”
“Indeed?” Clayworth asked, arching one golden eyebrow. “What did you promise Haversham?”
Cordie wrenched her arm out of his grasp and stalked further into the library, putting distance between them. “I don’t owe you any answers, sir.”
In the blink of an eye, he was before her. “Tell me, Cordelia, or I swear I’ll call Haversham out myself.”
Her heart seized at the image of Clayworth facing the marquess on a field of honor over her. What a horrible thought, especially after all she’d done to make sure Philip and Kelfield didn’t kill each other. She didn’t want to contemplate such an event. His dark eyes remained fixed on her and Cordie shook her head. “A kiss.”
“A kiss?” he echoed. At her nod, his jaw clenched. “You let him kiss you?”
Cordie nodded. He had kissed her that evening. She decided it was best, however, not to mention that the terms of her agreement with the marquess had yet to be filled. With the blue fire in his eyes, it seemed the logical thing.
Despite his fierce look, Clayworth gently touched her cheek, and Cordie swallowed nervously. He closed the small gap between then and lowered his head. “Did he make your heart beat faster? Did his touch make your knees weak? Did the feel of his lips make you forget everything?”
No. “It was a very nice kiss,” she whispered. If she’d never have been kissed before, it would have been a magnificent kiss. If she’d only been kissed by Gabriel Seaton, it would have been a magnificent kiss. The marquess was quite talented, but his lips, his hands, his presence only made her yearn for Clayworth, which made no sense at all. He was the exact wrong sort of man for her.
“My kiss is not nice,” his gravelly voice rolled over her. His hands moved to her waist and he quickly pulled her against him. Clayworth kissed her neck and jaw, searing heat wherever he touched her. “Ma minouche dangereuse” he whispered across her lips, staring at her with such intensity, Cordie lost her breath.
Before she could speak, his demanding lips claimed hers. Cordie’s mind spun. She’d longed for this for weeks, needed it, craved it. His tongue touched her lips, searching for entry. Cordie opened for him, and she relished the taste of port when his tongue touched hers. Shaking, she ran her hands up his muscled chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his weight against her.
Clayworth moaned and backed her into a wall lined with books. His lips, his tongue never stopped moving on her, and a welcome heat pooled deep in her belly. Cordie kissed him back, nipping at his lips and mingling her tongue with his. She’d never felt so wanton in all her days.
If he’d just touch her breast or her bottom, she was certain she could assuage the desire that was raging through her. But his hands remained securely at her waist. She shimmied against him. “Please.”
His lips left hers and trailed along her jaw to her ear. “I can’t, ma minouche, or I’ll never stop.”
She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to touch her everywhe
re, to hold her forever.
Clayworth’s tongue touched her ear lobe, sending new waves of desire washing over her. No one had ever done such a thing. She was barely breathing. “I want you, Cordelia.” His raspy voice tickled her ear.
Oh, she wanted him too. “Then touch me,” she begged.
“Marry me,” he countered.
***
He’d somehow said the wrong thing. Cordelia pulled out of his arms and took a staggering breath. He wanted her right back where she was, and took a step towards her. She raised a hand to stop his advance.
“I-I can’t,” she finally said.
Fury built inside Brendan. “Why the devil not?” Never in his life had he felt such need, such fire for a woman. He knew she felt it too. Whenever he held her, she nearly melted into him.
“You’re not right for me,” she whispered.
“I beg to differ,” he couldn’t help but growl.
Her pretty brow furrowed as she fumbled for an answer. “You, well, you’re you, and—well, you couldn’t possibly understand.”
True. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying. “You’re not making any sense, Cordelia.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Do your affections lay elsewhere?” he asked, echoing her words to Brookfield.
She turned away from him and her shoulders sagged forward. “Please don’t ask me that.”
It was the first ray of hope he’d felt. She couldn’t answer him, because her affections lay with him. He knew they did. So whatever was keeping her from him, whatever Haversham held over her, Brendan would have to find out. Holding Cordelia Avery in his arms was the first real joy he’d known in forever. “I’m not giving up on you,” he vowed.
She looked over her shoulder at him and frowned. “I wish you would. You’re making this very difficult for me.”
“Good,” he answered. If she was intent on pushing him away, he wanted it to be difficult. He wanted it to be damn near impossible.
~ 18 ~
All of Avery House was silent. Philip and Russell were already gone and the sun was barely on the horizon. Though the outcome of the contest, one way or the other, didn’t matter to Cordie, she still paced a path around her room. She wished she could be at Kelfield House with Livvie. Hopefully, Lady Staveley was with her. Hopefully, she’d shared the contents of Cordie’s letter with Livvie, informing them of the first blood drawn stipulation. Hopefully, her friend was experiencing some peace, knowing that neither man would perish because of her.
A soft knock sounded on her door, startling her. Quickly, Cordie threw on her wrapper, then rushed to door. Tristan stood before her, two cups of tea in his hands.
“I knew you were awake. Here,” he said, offering her one of the cups.
She opened her door wide and her brother strode inside, collapsing in one of her chintz chairs. “What a night.”
That was an understatement. She couldn’t sleep at all with thoughts of Clayworth popping up in her mind just as she was about to doze off. Why was he making things so difficult? Why couldn’t he just be the cold, heartless man she’d always thought him to be? If she wasn’t distracted by him, she’d have already found a way to bring Haversham up to scratch.
“They’re gone?” she asked, knowing the answer and sinking into a chair opposite him.
Tristan nodded. “So, will you still not discuss Haversham with me?”
“I’d rather not. You’ll tell me I’m making a huge mistake, and I’d prefer not to hear that if you don’t mind.”
He raised his brow and quirked a grin at her. “Is that what I’ll say? Have you had the entire conversation in your head?”
She sipped her tea, avoiding his question.
“And what about Clayworth? Is he off limits as well?”
“Most definitely.”
“What a shame.” Tristan tried to hide a smirk behind his cup. “I was dying to know what you did to get him so…excited.”
“Excited?” she echoed. What was he talking about, for heaven’s sake? “I don’t think he gets excited about anything. Angry, irritated, yes. Excited, no. He’s far too serious and intense for that.”
Her brother choked on his tea. “The man I saw last night was excited, and you’ll have to take my word for it.” Then he laughed to himself, obviously at her expense.
Cordie rolled her eyes. Brothers could be the most aggravating of all creatures.
“I think mother’s right, by the by. I think he will offer for you. He appears quite the besotted man.”
She winced at his words. All night she’d thought of Clayworth’s passionate proposal, how her heart ached to accept it. She needed a plan to bring Haversham up to scratch. “Tris, I know I said I didn’t want to talk about the marquess…”
Her brother’s jovial expression vanished immediately. “He’s dangerous, Cor.”
He couldn’t possibly be as dangerous as Clayworth was to her. “He doesn’t seem like it,” she replied quietly.
“Well, that’s just something else you’ll have to take my word for.”
He knew. He knew whatever awful thing Haversham had done. She could see it on his face. But how could she get him to tell her? By feigning complete innocence, perhaps? Convince him that telling her was the only way to keep her safe. That might work. If not, she could always resort to her newest weapon against her brother—tears.
She giggled. “Oh, Tristan, I’m certain you’re mistaken. He has a wicked reputation, I know, but he seems harmless to me.”
Her brother narrowed his eyes on her.
“And I daresay I’ve spent more time in his company than you have.” With any luck, she’d spend a lot more.
“Cordelia,” he began.
“I think men see things differently than women,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I mean, look at Kelfield. All you men think he’s wicked and dangerous, but I’ve seen him with Livvie, Tristan. I don’t believe a more gentlemanly man exists.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she figured it would get her brother’s ire up.
“I meant it when I said I’d put a ball in his skull, Cordie. You’re my little sister and I’d die before I let him touch one hair on your head.”
“Oh, Tris,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Surely, you’re overreacting. I mean what could he have done that is so bad? He’s always acted the perfect gentleman with me.” That was far from the truth, but Tristan didn’t need to know the particulars.
With a frown, he placed his cup on the small table. Then he turned his attention back to Cordie, studying her. Finally he heaved a sigh. “I love you more than anything, Cordie. You know I’d never want you to be hurt, and I’d kill any blackguard that tried.”
“No brother is ever happy with the man his sister sets her cap for. Matthew Greywood has made Phoebe’s life miserable. And—”
“That’s hardly it,” he interrupted. “Russell and I both like Clayworth just fine.”
She smiled sadly at that. “But I haven’t set my cap for the earl.”
Tristan rubbed his brow. “Why not, Cordie? He’s wealthy, well respected, seems besotted with you.”
Cordie took another sip of tea. When she lowered her glass, she frowned at her brother. “Don’t you remember how miserable he made Marina?” At Tristan’s nod, Cordie continued, “I don’t want that to be me.”
“But you’re not like Marina, it might not be the same.”
“Please, Tris, we were talking about Haversham. Why do you think he’s dangerous?”
Her brother grasped her hand and squeezed. “I became friends with a cavalry officer from Sussex during the war. Lieutenant Colonel Oliver Burke,” he began as Cordie listened patiently. “A decade ago, Burke’s older sister was betrothed to Haversham. The marquess did something, I’m not sure what it was, but Miss Burke called off the wedding on account of it. Apparently, Haversham didn’t take kindly to being jilted and made to look like a laughingstock before the ton, so he plotted revenge against the girl.”
“Burke says he set out to destroy her, one way or another. He forcibly absconded with her from a house party and no one could find them for days. The act alone ruined her, which was Haversham’s plan. She jilted him, and he was going to make sure no one would have her afterwards.”
Cordie’s mouth dropped open. The poor girl. She blinked at her brother. “What happened to her?”
Tristan sat back in his chair, a bit more comfortable now. “Well, everyone was searching for her, naturally. A friend of Burke’s older brother was the one who found her. Chivalrous chap married her to keep the gossip down. Not that it mattered. She never quite recovered, socially speaking, from the ordeal. She and her husband live quietly in the country somewhere.”
It was quite a story, not that it affected her terribly. She had no plans to jilt him at all. In fact, the faster she could get him to the altar the better. However it was good to know what he was capable of, the way his mind worked. That could be useful in the future. Cordie smiled at her brother. “Tris, thanks for telling me.”
“So you see how dangerous he is.” Tristan’s frown deepened. “Don’t give me heart palpitations. Stay away from the scoundrel, will you?”
Cordie nodded. Another lie. Once she was Lady Haversham, everything would turn out all right and Tristan would forgive her.
***
Cordie’s three brothers were all fairly different from each other, but the only thing they apparently all agreed on was their abhorrence of attending societal affairs. Since Gregory was safely ensconced in Nottinghamshire, he was the only one excused from attending the Sunderland ball. The other two were not so fortunate.
Upon entering the festive room, Russell made his way directly to the refreshment table, while their mother sequestered herself in one of the gaming parlors. Tristan grimaced at Cordie. “So I suppose you’re left in my care.”
