by Ava Stone
“But, Brendan—”
“No!” he barked, pushing away from his desk and towering over her. “I don’t want to discuss it. I’m not going after her. Leave it be.”
She slid off his desk, her face twisted in surprised annoyance, which was an unusual look as she always got her way. “If you’ll just—”
Outside his door, “Clayworth!” was bellowed.
“Heavens,” Caroline gasped. “What is that about?”
Brendan paid her no attention as he stalked to his door and hauled it open. Before him stood the Marquess of Haversham, glaring at him. “What the devil did you do with her?”
Brendan itched to send the bastard crashing into a wall or out a window or down a flight of steps. But that would make him appear jealous and he needed to remember that distancing himself from Cordie was the best thing he could do to protect her future. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said with a calmness he didn’t feel.
“You really are an imbecile,” Haversham growled. “Cordie spent the entire waltz gushing over her love for you, which irritated me to no end. If she felt half that much for me, I’d—”
“Apologies, Haversham. I have an appointment.” Brendan brushed past the marquess, unable to listen to any more. He did need a bath and clean set of clothes. Once his uninvited guests left, and his house was quiet again, perhaps he could think clearly.
***
Marc gaped at Clayworth’s departing form. He’d never imagined the man wouldn’t put up a fight over his wife. She was, after all, someone to fight over. It wasn’t until he heard the ruffle of skirts that he turned back to the study to find Caroline Staveley watching him with her wide hazel eyes.
“You really did cause them quite a bit of trouble,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
Loyal to the last, even when Clayworth was acting the role of a dim-witted bastard. Marc shook his head. “It’s hardly my fault. I came to talk some sense into him.”
Lady Staveley snorted. “Everywhere you go, carnage follows, Lord Haversham. Forgive me if I don’t believe that you have anyone’s interests but your own in mind.” She stepped around the desk and a piece of foolscap fluttered to the floor in front of her.
She stopped to scoop it up and she stumbled backwards when her eyes landed on the page. Marc rushed forward and caught her elbow to keep her from crashing to the carpet. “Are you all right?”
She clutched the paper to her chest and nodded.
For all that she was an excellent schemer, her ashen face and surprised eyes failed her this time. Marc pried the paper from her grasp and scanned the note. What could Cordie have done that would cost twenty thousand pounds to keep quiet?
“He’s being blackmailed,” Lady Staveley whispered.
“It would appear that is true,” Marc agreed, while his mind tried to make sense of the revelation. What sort of trouble was Cordie in? His pulse pounded viciously in his ears. He spotted three other notes by the same hand on the desk behind the viscountess and quickly read them.
“He’s asked for different amounts and I don’t see where money is to be sent,” Lady Staveley said at his side.
“Most strange,” he added. “I can’t imagine what she could have done…”
“I’ve known the girl most of her life. The most scandalous thing she’s ever done is run off to Scotland to marry Clayworth.”
There had to be something else. Something that wasn’t public knowledge. Maybe something to do with that enormous dowry. Marc placed the note back on Clayworth’s desk and quickly scanned all four one more time. “I’m going to find out what it is.”
“To what end?” Lady Staveley frowned at him. She’d never thought highly of him and his next words weren’t about to change her opinion, not that he cared.
“To kill the bastard who’s trying to hurt her.”
Lady Staveley nodded solemnly. “That does sound like a good plan.”
Marc reared back from her, his mouth open wide. He would never have thought of Lady Staveley as the blood-thirsty type. She smoothed the letters back in place, as though they had never been touched. “Where do you propose we begin?”
***
Cordie was certain she was an abysmal guest. Livvie had been very understanding over the last fortnight. She hadn’t pushed for information, and for that Cordie would always be thankful. She climbed out of bed, unable to sleep, and thought that perhaps an old, boring tome from the library would help her fall asleep.
Silently, she padded to the first floor and down the main corridor.
“I’d like to go straight to Town and hand Clayworth his ass,” the duke’s voice boomed from inside his study, which immediately caught Cordie’s attention.
“Alex!” Livvie chastised. Though she couldn’t see her friend through the closed door, Cordie imagined the duchess standing with hands on her hips, frowning at her husband.
Cordie shouldn’t listen, but she’d been eavesdropping since she was a small child, and some habits were harder to break than others. Besides, they were talking about Brendan. Had something happened?
“What’s he done to the poor girl? She doesn’t even seem like herself.”
“I know,” Livvie sighed. “It kills me to see her like this. She was always the strongest one of all of us.”
“Do you really not know what he’s done?” her husband asked.
“She hasn’t said, and I haven’t asked. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, at least I hope she will.”
Guilt washed over Cordie. She hated putting Livvie in this situation. Kelfield grunted something she couldn’t understand, so she pressed her ear to the door to hear better. After all, if being at Everett Place wasn’t going to work out, if they didn’t want her here, she needed to know sooner rather than later.
“She’s enceinte too,” Livvie said softly. “She hasn’t told me, but I can tell.”
Cordie’s heart lurched. She thought she’d hidden that fact so well.
“God damn it!” Kelfield snarled, breaking into her thoughts. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t track down that bastard. At this rate she would have been better off with Haversham.”
Livvie snorted. “Please.”
“You didn’t see him,” Kelfield protested. “I was there, Olivia. Marc was brokenhearted when she left. He still is.”
“Impossible. He doesn’t own a heart.”
There was a long pause, and Cordie imagined Kelfield leveling his wife with the intensity of his silvery glare.
“This is neither here nor there, Alex. She chose Clayworth. She loves him, and still does, despite whatever it is he’s done.”
“What kind of man lets his expectant wife leave him? Travel across the country alone?” Kelfield growled. “Do you know how furious I would be if it was you? And Marc is convinced she’s in some sort of trouble.”
“Then I’m so glad she’s come to us,” Livvie’s calm voice filtered through the door. “I can’t imagine she would have any peace with the Averys. And I don’t want you to push her, Alex. She needs a quiet, safe place to stay and I need her to have it here, where at least I know she’s all right.”
“Of course I’m not going to push her. She’s the only one of your friends I actually like.”
“She’s really the only friend I have left,” Livvie replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry that being my wife has cost you so much.”
“Alexander Everett,” Cordie could hear the smile in Livvie’s voice, “you are my life and I wouldn’t trade you for anything or anyone in the world—certainly not to have hordes of fraudulent friends at my disposal.”
“It’ll get better,” he promised.
It sounded like he kissed her, and Cordie stepped away from the door. Eavesdropping was one thing—spying on her friend’s intimate encounters was something else entirely. Besides it made her miss her own husband more than she already did.
Cordie sighed. She shouldn’t have come to
Everett Place. If Brendan was revealed as a spy, would things be even worse for Livvie for offering her shelter? She’d have to write Mr. Birch tomorrow and ask for some funds. She couldn’t rely on the Kelfields’ generosity for much longer.
~ 41 ~
Caroline Staveley looked across the carriage at the Marquess of Haversham’s profile as he kept a keen eye on Clayworth’s residence. How strange to have made an alliance with the man. It was rare, indeed, for anyone to surprise her, and yet Haversham most assuredly had. In all the years she had known the marquess, which was not all that well as he lived on the outside of propriety, Caroline had never imagined him to concern himself with anyone’s welfare other than his own.
“A messenger,” he said, nearly pressing his face against the glass to get a better view.
Caroline peered out her window toward the mews behind Clayworth’s home. A young fellow in grey and crimson livery approached the servant’s entrance. “He belongs to Astwick. I’m not certain who Brendan’s blackmailer is, but I do know that he is not Astwick. They’re like brothers.”
Haversham relaxed a bit against the leather squabs while Caroline kept her eyes focused on her friend’s town home. She felt the marquess’ gaze on her before he spoke. “Again, Lady Staveley, I am quite capable of conducting this bit of espionage on my own. Don’t you have luncheons or garden parties you should be attending?”
Keeping her eyes trained on street before her, Caroline sighed. “And if I did so, you’d be following a fellow in Astwick’s employ and leaving Clayworth House completely unguarded.”
“All right, you win.” He shifted on his bench and the coach moved beneath his weight. “I don’t have the desire to fight with you.”
Caroline smiled to herself. It had been that way all of her life. Men never did have the desire to fight with her. “Tell me, Haversham,” she began, “why are you doing this? Troubling yourself with the Clayworths?” She glanced back across the coach at him , curious at what she could read in his eyes.
Honestly, he looked a little weary. Drained might be a better word. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt Cordelia, not if I could stop it.”
“Why?” she breathed out.
The marquess smiled wistfully. “I think she was the one, Lady Staveley. I just didn’t realize it until I let Clayworth have her.”
“The one?” she echoed. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. Men like him didn’t believe in such notions.
Haversham nodded. “I love everything about Cordie. Her penchant for trouble. Her joy of life. Her pretty smile.” A hardened look crossed his face. “I was a fool not to keep her while I had the chance. Though she’s not mine, I won’t let any harm come to her.”
Caroline smiled at him. “I do believe, sir, that I was wrong about you.”
He winked one of his light blue eyes at her, appearing the rogue she’d always known him to be. “No, Caroline. I’m certain you were right about me from the beginning—a scoundrel to the very last.”
She tilted her head to one side. Perhaps the gentleman doth protest too much.
***
While she watched, one of Kelfield’s maids packed her trunk and Cordie released a nervous breath. She was doing the right thing. She couldn’t stay at Everett Place any longer. To do so would cause irreparable damage to Livvie, and she couldn’t bear the guilt of that. After receiving word from Mr. Birch that he had located a nice place in Bedford Square if she’d like, Cordie made up her mind to move back to Town. Brendan wouldn’t be happy to learn she was returning to London, but she needed to be closer to him. Even if she couldn’t touch him or speak to him, it would help to be in Town near him.
A knock sounded on her door, breaking Cordie from her thoughts. “Come,” she called.
Livvie opened the door and a frown marred her face as her eyes landed on the packing maid. She turned her attention to Cordie. “I do wish you wouldn’t do this.”
Cordie bounded off the bed with more energy than she actually felt. “I will be fine,” she lied.
Livvie sighed. “Join me for tea, will you?”
“Of course.”
They left the maid packing and started down the hallway toward the set of cantilevered stairs. “You know you can tell me anything,” Livvie said, grasping the railing to steady herself.
But not this. Cordie nodded. “Of course. You are my most trusted friend.”
She followed Livvie down the steps and into a small, modestly appointed yellow parlor. For all that Livvie was now a duchess, she still wasn’t accustomed to all the pomp and circumstance that went along with the title. After Livvie rang for tea, they both settled on a pale yellow damask settee.
“Can’t I convince you to stay?” Livve asked, clutching Cordie’s hand. “I’m worried about you being all alone. You may stay with us for as long as you need.”
Livvie would help her to her own detriment. Cordie shook her head. “I know, Liv. But I can’t. Everett Place should be returned to you. I can’t be permanent guest.”
“But—”
“I need to adjust to my circumstances,” she pressed on. “Tell me you understand that.”
Livvie didn’t respond as the parlor door burst open and Kelfield stood before them, silver eyes wide in amazement, his mouth slightly open. It was a look Cordie had never seen on the striking duke before, and the sight immediately put her ill at ease.
Livvie pushed herself off the settee. “What is it, my love?”
His strange look was replaced by a charming smile for his wife. “Nothing to worry you about, sweetheart.” Then he turned his attention to Cordie. “You have a guest. But if you don’t want to see her, I’ll be more than happy to throw her out on her ear.”
“Who?” she asked, completely confused by his demeanor.
“That dragon. That awful Astwick woman.”
Livvie sucked in a frightened breath. “The dowager?” she asked.
Cordie blinked. Why was Lady Astwick here? “Where is she?”
“I told the old bat she’d have to wait in the corridor.”
“Alexander!” Livvie scolded.
Cordie rushed to the door and down the hallway towards the front entryway of Everett Place. What was the dowager marchioness doing here? She slid to a stop when the old woman came into view. Lady Astwick’s frown was firmly in place and she was rapidly tapping her cane against the marble floor in agitation.
Cordie swallowed nervously. “My lady, whatever are you doing in Hampshire?”
The old woman’s frown deepened, which Cordie hadn’t realized was possible. “You’ve left your husband to come live in this den of iniquity? I hadn’t thought it of you, Lady Clayworth. I’m thoroughly disappointed.”
The name Clayworth tore at her soul, but Cordie refused to cry. Brendan would expect better than that. “Have you come all the way from London to chastise me for visiting my friends?”
“Friends!” the dowager muttered sourly under her breath. “Fiends is more like it. Do you know what that man said to me?”
“Kelfield?” Cordie asked.
“That blackguard said that if I couldn’t be civil to that wife of his, he’d throw me out on my… Well, I don’t like to say the word.”
“Ear?” Cordie prompted.
Not ear, Lady Clayworth,” the old woman snapped. “A man like him uses derogatory terms.”
Cordie was fairly certain she knew the word in question. With a placating smile, she stepped towards the dowager and held out her hand. “I’m certain His Grace would do no such thing. He’s very protective of his duchess is all, and she hasn’t been treated warmly by the upper echelons of the ton as you well know.”
“Humph!” Lady Astwick grumbled, though she allowed Cordie to maneuver her towards a nearby sitting room. “That is what happens when one associates with men such as him.”
Cordie resisted urge to growl. It would only make matters worse. “As Her Grace is my dearest friend, I’m certain you don’t mean to impugn her name, especially in her own
home.”
Who knew what the dowager had said to make Kelfield so agitated? Cordie was certain she didn’t want to know, or she too would be tempted to throw the old woman out on her ear as well.
“I had such high hopes for you, Cordelia,” the old woman complained as she settled onto a white settee. “What did Clayworth do to drive you away?”
“Many spouses live apart, Lady Astwick,” she replied evenly, proud that her voice hadn’t cracked. Then she sat on a chintz chair and faced the old dragon.
“Bah!” the dowager barked. “The man was utterly devoted to you. He would never have left on his own. Now, tell me what he did.” She pounded her cane on the floor as an exclamation point.
Perhaps she should have let Kelfield toss the old woman out in the first place.
“Cordelia Clayworth!”
Cordie sighed. “We discovered we didn’t suit.” She forced the lie out, the one Brendan made her promise to say. “No one is to blame.”
Instead of getting angry as she expected the dowager to become, Lady Astwick blanched and looked suddenly frail. “What is it, my dear? I can see that you’re in pain. Why are you lying to me? I’ll help if I can.”
Cordie thought she’d been doing so well. If she couldn’t convince Lady Astwick, how was she ever going to convince anyone else? “I’m not lying,” she whispered. “Brendan is focused on finding something right now, and that makes it impossible for us to be together.”
“What is he looking for?”
Heavens, she was as persistent as a Bow Street Runner. “Something that belonged to his mother. That’s all I can say.”
“Dear God, the letters?” the old woman asked, pain echoed in her voice.
Cordie’s eyes flashed to hers, and she realized too late she’d given Brendan away. Defeated, tears finally fell from her eyes. What was she to do now? Lady Astwick knew of the letters? All was certainly lost. How could she get word to Brendan? There was still time for him to flee. She’d never see him again, but he’d be safe. He’d be alive.
