by Ava Stone
“Sorry to be such a burden,” she replied tartly, looking over the sea of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of Livvie. It seemed unlikely that a society stickler like Lady Sunderland would invite the scandalous duke and duchess to her ball, but Cordie still held out hope.
“Miss Avery,” came the stern voice of the dowager Marchioness of Astwick. “My darling girl, it has been forever.”
Cordie turned around, gracing the dowager with a smile. It was so strange that the woman had taken to her, not that she was about to do a thing that would change the situation. The astonished look on Tristan’s face was priceless, however, as he stepped backwards and inhaled sharply. If Cordie didn’t know better, she’d think her brother had swallowed his own tongue. “Good evening, Lady Astwick,” Cordie greeted her with a curtsy.
“It is now,” the dowager stated matter-of-factly. “Where have you been keeping yourself the last few weeks?”
“I’ve been in Norfolk visiting friends, my lady.”
“Norfolk? Who would ever live in Norfolk?” the old woman barked.
Cordie stifled a laugh. A good many people lived in Norfolk, but the dowager made it sound as if was the end of the world. “Lord Malvern’s family, my lady.”
The dowager made an unpleasant face as if she smelled something awful. “That silly Greywood chit?”
Phoebe was silly, but Lady Astwick shouldn’t say so with such a derisive tone. “Miss Phoebe Greywood is one of my dear friends. I would hardly call her silly.”
The old woman’s light eyes danced merrily. “I do like your spirit, Miss Avery. Loyalty is a rare trait in this young generation, even when it’s misguided.”
“Am I misguided?” Cordie asked, raising her brow.
“You and I both know that Greywood girl is a simpering fool.”
“Lady Astwick!” she chastised.
The dowager squeezed Cordie’s hand. “Your loyalty is commendable, Miss Avery.” Then she turned her attention to Tristan and narrowed her icy eyes. “And who are you?”
Tristan gulped and then squared his shoulders.
“Lady Astwick, this is my brother Lieutenant Tristan Avery. He’s just returned with the 45th Foot from Toulouse.”
The dowager’s expression lightened incrementally as she assessed him. “I assume, Lieutenant, that you showed more bravery on the battlefield.”
“I don’t believe my adversary was as formidable as you, my lady,” Tristan replied, blushing just a bit.
“Ah,” the old woman began, looking over Cordie’s shoulder, “just the gentleman I wanted to see. Brendan Reese!” she bellowed.
A heartbeat later, the earl stood before them and offered a slight bow to the marchioness. “Lady Astwick, always a pleasure.”
“Clayworth, why are you wasting your time trying to charm me? Miss Avery is right here, or have you lost your eyesight?”
His twilight eyes flashed to hers and Cordie’s mouth went dry. He was so startlingly handsome and she couldn’t look at him without remembering his passionate kiss and heartfelt proposal.
“My eyes are always on Miss Avery, my lady, but thank you for your concern.”
The dowager’s eyes actually twinkled, a miracle in itself. “Would you care for some advice, Brendan?”
If he was trying to suppress a grin, he failed miserably. “I don’t believe you’ve ever asked that of anyone before.”
“You may only dance with Miss Avery twice without raising eyebrows. So I suggest you wait for waltzes and make the best of your time in between.”
“What if I want to raise eyebrows?” he asked, now grinning from ear to ear, making Cordie’s heart leap in the process.
“You’ve already done so, with your attention to the girl, Brendan. There’s no point in appearing gauche.”
“Wonderful words of wisdom,” Clayworth replied, merriment evident in his voice. Then he refocused his dark blue eyes on Cordie. “Miss Avery, would you care to take a turn about the room with me while I wait for the next waltz?”
It wasn’t even possible for her to refuse. Not with the dowager essentially forcing them together. “Of course, my lord.”
When she took his arm, tingles raced across Cordie’s skin. Touching him should be avoided at all costs. As they stepped away from the dowager and Tristan, Cordie noticed a mortified expression on her brother’s face. Apparently Clayworth noticed the look too and he chuckled. “He’ll be all right. She’s not as frightening as she seems.”
“She’s downright terrifying,” Cordie replied.
“She adores you, which is easy to see.” His gloved fingers squeezed her hand on his arm.
Cordie glanced at the other couples in the middle of the room enjoying a spirited reel. “On the contrary she seems to adore you, my lord, and by extension me.”
He shrugged. “Such is the case when someone has known you your entire life.”
Or not. Her mother had known Livvie since infancy, and now she wouldn’t acknowledge her if they were the only two in a room. “I had no idea your families were so close.”
“She apparently formed an attachment for my mother when she first arrived in England. I’m certain mother would have had a much more difficult time navigating the ton without Lady Astwick’s council.” He frowned when he said that and looked out above the sea of people, seemingly lost in another time and place.
Cordie had never seen him look so forlorn before and she couldn’t help stepping a bit closer to him. Everyone knew the late Lady Clayworth had doted on her children. “Do you miss your mother?”
“I think about her every day,” he answered in a cold voice that sent icy shivers up her spine.
Perhaps Lady Clayworth wasn’t as doting as she appeared in public. Perhaps it was all for show. Cordie was familiar with that breed of mother, and she squeezed the earl’s arm.
“I understand Major Moore has returned to Nottinghamshire,” he said evenly, changing the subject.
Cordie nodded. “He left right after the duel. Do you believe Kelfield was hurt badly?” Russell had refused to tell her a thing.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You do seem overly concerned with every scoundrel in Town.”
She scowled at him. “I promise not to throw myself at Kelfield. He is married to my dearest friend, which is why I’m concerned for him.”
“He’ll live. The injury was minor, and not as deep as I’m sure Moore would have liked.”
“Barbaric behavior, duels.” She shuddered. “I’ll never understand the male of our species.”
Clayworth laughed. “We’re not that difficult to understand, ma minouche.”
“Why do you call me your kitten, my lord?”
He stopped walking and stared down at her, a lighthearted smile on his lips. “Because you’re adorable and you make me want to play with you.”
Cordie’s heart stopped beating. She knew it did. When he looked at her in such a way, it was as if time stood still and no one but them existed. She almost sighed.
Clayworth dipped his head towards her and whispered, “Among other things.”
What things? Her breath caught. The way he said the words sent spirals of desire straight to her core. It really was too dangerous to spend an inordinate amount of time with him.
The first chords of a waltz began and Clayworth grinned at her. “My dance, I believe.”
He whisked her out on the floor with smooth elegance. Cordie felt lost as she stared up into his eyes, so dark, so piercing. It would be so easy to give in to him, to accept his proposal, to follow her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she’d do that very thing. It was imperative that she remember who he was.
Controlling. He’d never allow her the freedom she so craved. After only five minutes in his company, she’d realized that.
Cold. How many times had she listened to Marina bemoan his cool indifference? More times than she could count. If she lost her heart to him, it would destroy her when his interest turned elsewhere.
“Why do yo
u look so serious, ma minouche?” he asked, as he spun her into a turn. “Of the two of us, you’re supposed to be the carefree one.”
Cordie forced a smile to her face. “Just woolgathering, my lord.”
His twilight eyes narrowed. “Do you think I can’t tell the difference between your genuine smiles and your fraudulent ones?”
Cordie gaped at him. How was it even possible he could know such things about her? Her own mother couldn’t tell the difference.
“It’s all in your eyes,” Clayworth answered her unasked question. “They sparkle with life when you’re truly happy. What’s troubling you, Cordelia?”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’ve said that before. Explain it to me, and I’ll try my hardest.”
What could she possibly say to him? I want to accept your proposal, but I’m afraid. That wouldn’t do. “I’m in a quandary, my lord,” she finally said. “I don’t even understand it myself. So I have no idea how to explain it to you.”
He frowned at that, but said nothing else. Clayworth continued to lead her around the room, never pulling her closer than was proper. Never moving his hand along her back. Never whispering scandalous suggestions in her ear. And still she wanted him more than ever. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to be with him.
He was dangerous to her plans.
As the waltz came to an end, Clayworth wasted no time, and led her out onto a balcony away from the prying eyes of the ton.
~ 19 ~
Brendan wanted just a bit of privacy. Something was going on in Cordelia’s head, and he’d never get a straight answer out of her with an audience. It would be hard enough with just the two of them. He’d never met a woman who was so evasive in his entire life. Marina had always ranted and raved, hollering at the top of her lungs. Her motives and thoughts had never been a secret.
He directed her to an area of the balcony, hidden in the shadows. The perfect place for a lovers’ tryst. While that would have been a nice distraction and his body hungered for it, she was already skittish and he couldn’t risk her bolting at the moment.
“Why did you bring me out here, my lord?” she asked, her green eyes reflecting the moon above.
“There are too many ears in there,” he replied evenly. “And I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk?” She sounded suspicious.
“Cordie?” Lieutenant Avery’s voice came from the entry to ballroom. “Are you out here?”
“Here, Tristan,” she said, stepping away from Brendan. “Lord Clayworth was allowing me a breath of fresh air.”
The lieutenant grunted. “Honorable intentions or not, Clayworth, I do wish you wouldn’t put my sister’s reputation in jeopardy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tris!” she whispered.
But he was right. Brendan sighed. “Of course, Lieutenant, my apologies.” He walked to where Cordelia stood. She was glaring at her brother and Brendan bit back a smile. She was so full of life. He absolutely adored her. “Miss Avery,” he said, offering her his arm.
For the first time ever, she took his arm without pause, and Brendan’s heart expanded in his chest. If he could only get her to agree to his proposal as easily.
“We were just talking, Tris,” she said tartly.
The lieutenant winked at his sister. “Well, you can just talk in there, with everyone’s eyes on you.”
If her brothers had returned from France just a few weeks earlier, he would never have put himself in the position to protect her. He’d have never gotten close to her. He would never have fallen for her independent spirit and youthful naïveté. He would never have lost his heart to her. “He’s right, Cordelia,” Brendan whispered.
She tugged on his arm and pulled him back through the doors, past her brother into the light of the ballroom. “It’s not enough I have her watching my every move. Now I’ve got those two hovering like vultures,” she muttered under her breath.
Brendan touched her chin and tipped her head back, so she had to look at him. “He’s doing his duty as your brother. I might very well have ravished you back there.”
She rolled her green eyes. “You are all that is proper, my lord. I’m certain you would never consider doing that.”
Only every night since he’d met her. “Don’t be so sure,” he replied quietly, still gazing into her eyes.
“Cordie!” came a girlish squeal from behind them.
She let go of his arm, turned around, and embraced a raven-haired chit. The same girl from the park, if Brendan wasn’t mistaken. Miss Greywood.
“Phoebe!” Cordelia gushed. “I didn’t know you’d returned to Town.”
“How are you?” Miss Greywood asked, with more feeling than Brendan could understand. The intensity of the girl’s stare sent chills down his spine, as if there was a deeper, more sinister meaning in her words.
Cordelia blushed slightly and shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”
Something was going on. The two girls looked at each other, conversing silently with only their eyes, and Brendan wished to hell he knew what it was. After he convinced Cordelia to marry him, he’d sit her down and have a long talk about her proclivity of keeping secrets. Though to be honest, he did have a few of his own, didn’t he? Of course, after they were married, he wouldn’t need to keep those secrets from her. The Averys would give him his mother’s letters and there would be nothing left to hide.
Above Cordelia’s head, Brendan spotted Lieutenant Avery looking sheepish. Poor fellow, he was simply doing his duty by his sister. Brendan nodded at him. In the lieutenant’s shoes he’d do the same, or should have done it better with Flora all those years ago. The officer started towards their small group.
“Tristan,” Cordelia said coolly, eyeing him up and down.
“Cor,” he said softly.
She turned her attention back to Miss Greywood. “Phoebe, you’ve never met my brother, have you?”
The girl shook her head, her pretty black curls bounced against her alabaster shoulders.
“Phoebe Greywood, my brother, Lieutenant Tristan Avery,” Cordelia introduced, gesturing from one to the other.
“A pleasure, Miss Greywood,” the lieutenant offered with a bow.
Miss Greywood giggled. “Lieutenant, I’ve heard so much about you. How nice to finally meet you.”
The officer groaned and glanced at his sister. “I’m certain I’m much nicer than whatever she said.”
Miss Greywood giggled again. She had a pleasant laugh, if one liked giggly girls. It was apparent, however, that Lieutenant Avery did not and he frowned just a bit.
Their small group increased by one when Captain Avery joined them, draping an arm over the lieutenant’s shoulder. “Keeping Cordie out of trouble, Tris?”
“Trying,” the younger officer admitted.
Miss Greywood’s giggle evaporated as she stared at the army captain, and her blue eyes sparkled with wonder.
“Very amusing, Russell.” Cordelia leveled the captain with her most haughty look. “Phoebe, this is unfortunately another brother of mine—Captain Russell Avery. Russell, this is my very good friend, Miss Greywood. Do try to be your most charming.”
The captain took Miss Greywood’s hand and pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles. “I’m always charming.”
“Or so he believes,” Cordelia muttered so quietly only Brendan could hear.
“Oh, dear!” Phoebe Greywood squeaked.
“What is it?” Cordelia asked, stepping towards her friend. Phoebe whispered something in Cordelia’s ear, then both girls straightened.
“It’ll just take a needle and thread, Phoeb,” Cordelia offered with a smile, not a genuine one. She then turned to her brothers, her pretty green eyes narrowed to slits. “We’re going to mend a torn flounce in the retiring room, in case one of you wants to stand guard.”
The captain shook his head, oblivious to her irritation or immune to it. “I’m certain you can handle that all on yo
ur own.”
The two girls took off, vanishing through the doorway. In the pit of Brendan’s stomach, he felt something wasn’t quite right. He glanced at the two officers who groused about their forced attendance at this particular event. Neither of them seemed concerned about Cordelia at the moment. Was he overreacting again, like when he sprinted through Mayfair only to find her safely in the company of her family? Most likely. He was losing his mind.
***
“What is it, Phoebe?” Cordie asked as soon as they were out of the ballroom.
Phoebe grabbed her hand, pulled her down the corridor and around a corner, finally stopping in front of a quiet salon. “Lord Haversham,” she whispered. “I bumped into him when I arrived tonight. He wants to see you.”
Cordie sucked in a breath. The marquess was here? “Where?”
Phoebe’s eyes shot to the doors of the salon. “I promised I’d bring you. Are you still sure about this?” She looked back towards the ballroom. “Lord Clayworth seems so…”
“I’m sure,” Cordie assured her, though she wasn’t quite convinced herself. She had made this decision, however, when her mind was clear. It had to be the right course. After all, her mind was much more rational than her heart. The marquess represented everything she wanted in life. She needed to keep the ultimate goal in mind.
Phoebe frowned.
“Phoeb,” she said quietly, “if my brothers see you, they’ll wonder where I am. Can you hide out in the library or something until I find you?”
Her friend nodded. “But don’t take too long. I would like to dance tonight.”
“Of course,” Cordie answered with a smile.
Phoebe blushed. “And your brother—Captain Avery, is he…?”
“Unspoken for,” Cordie finished. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Phoebe pushed her towards the parlor door. “Do hurry then.”
Cordie pushed the door open and stepped inside. Haversham leaned against the side wall with a generous amount of whiskey in his glass. When his light blue eyes fell on her, a roguish smile lit up his face.
“I was starting to lose my patience, angel,” he drawled placing his glass on the mantle and pushing himself away from the wall.
