A Scandalous Vow (Scandalous Series Book 7)

by Ava Stone

  “Screamed at him so loud from her dressing room, Phoebe said they could hear her in their box.” Livvie shook her head. “And this week he ruined the Bramley earldom.”

  Marc was a callous, selfish blackguard who only cared about himself, but Caroline wasn’t sure how he could possibly have brought down the Bramley earldom all on his own.

  Her expression must have said as much because Livvie continued. “Hazard. Bankrupted Bramley. They fished him out of the Thames just yesterday.”

  Bramley had killed himself over a gambling loss? Caroline’s mouth fell open. “Oh, good heavens.”

  “Honestly, I can’t understand what Alex sees in him.” Then she shrugged. “Cordie, either, for that matter, but she’ll defend him with her dying breath.”

  “He did take a bullet meant for Clayworth,” Caroline replied, not wanting to defend Marc of anything. But he had saved Cordie Clayworth’s husband a number of years ago. It only stood to reason the countess would forgive any of his transgressions.

  “Anyone can do one decent thing.”

  “And he did warn Cordie when that awful Mason fellow was looking to kill Philip.”

  Livvie winced at the memory. “Philip still ended up with a bullet in him.”

  He had, but that hadn’t been Marc’s fault, though Caroline wouldn’t say those words aloud. She hated Marcus Gray, she hated him with everything in her, and she wasn’t about to list every decent thing he’d ever done, even if the list would be short.

  “Bye, Mama,” Rachel said from the threshold of the parlor.

  “Oh, heavens!” Livvie breathed out. “Rachel, I can’t believe how grown up you are.”

  And neither could Caroline. Sixteen. A year older than Caroline had been when she’d married David. And then Rachel had come along nine months later. How had time flown so quickly by? At 32, she still felt young, or at least she had until David died. “Be careful,” she said to her daughter. “No dagger throwing fiends.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes, much in the same way Caroline would have done at her age if given the same warning. “Not even Kitty could talk Mrs. Greywood into that, Mama.” Then she waved from the doorway. “See you soon, Livvie.” And then she was gone.

  Livvie’s eyes were still wide when Caroline looked back at her. “On my life, I blinked and she’s grown up.”

  “She thinks she is,” Caroline corrected.

  “Adam’s doing well at Eton?”

  “His marks are good.” Though he was still adjusting to coming into the viscountcy at such a young age. Her son had been silently stoic about the whole thing, reminding her completely of David.

  “And Emma?” Livvie asked.

  Caroline swiped at a tear before it could trail down her cheek. “She’s having the hardest time adjusting,” she admitted softly. “She loved David more than anything in the world.”

  “And he adored her,” Livvie agreed. And then she closed her eyes as though composing herself before opening them to pin Caroline with a most serious expression. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? I owe you so much, so many people do. And I just feel helpless. But if there’s something you need—”

  Caroline hugged her cousin to her and squeezed Livvie tightly. “You’ve always been here for me. That’s all I need.”

  “It doesn’t seem like enough,” Livvie whispered.

  “It has to be.”

  After securing Caroline’s promise that she and the girls would attend Astley’s Amphitheatre with the Kelfields later that week, Livvie departed for her own home and Caroline was left alone, staring at the walls of her white parlor, fending off the familiar grief that had become so much a part of her life.

  How everything had changed since she’d last sat in this room! Once upon a time, she would have never just sat in a parlor. She would have been plotting and planning and devising schemes, mostly of the matchmaking variety. She would never have just sat in her white parlor feeling sorry for herself. And she didn’t want to spend the rest of her years doing that either. It wasn’t in her nature. There had to be more than that. There just had to be.

  She just wasn’t sure how to find it. How to go on. But sitting alone in her parlor wasn’t the way to go about it, whatever it was. So…a stroll. A stroll somewhere, anywhere was called for.

  With that immediate thought in her mind, she pushed off the settee, bid a farewell to Tindle, and made a direct path out of Staveley House and down the steps onto Curzon Street. But she only made it a few paces before she felt something…almost as if someone was watching her. Caroline stopped on the walk and glanced across the street to find Marcus Gray, of all the villains in the world, watching her with such a serious expression, her stomach tightened in response.

  Chapter 2

  Dear God. It had been months since Marc had seen Caroline and…now he couldn’t pull his eyes from her. She was still so goddamned beautiful, just gazing at her struck him in his gut. The sun reflected off her dark blonde curls like it always did, but…well, there was a coolness to her hazel eyes that had never been there before, and quite a bit of anger, which was new as well.

  She hated him.

  She still hated him. That was easy enough to see.

  And he still loved her. That would never change.

  After a quick perusal of his person, Caroline tipped her nose in the air and headed east down Curzon Street without even a glance back over her shoulder.

  Marc had been on the receiving end of the cut direct a number of times during his life, but never from her, not even when she was furious with him. That was unfortunate. It was going to make ensuring her safety more difficult, but it wouldn’t change his course. He couldn’t let it. Caroline Staveley was the only woman he’d ever truly loved, and even if she hated him for the rest of her life, her wellbeing was of the utmost importance.

  But damn it all!

  He never chased after anyone, not really. He always went his own way and did exactly what he wanted. And to hell with anyone else. But there he was, chasing her anyway, crossing the street and increasing his pace until he was almost upon her.

  At that moment, Caroline spun on her heel and glared up at him as though he was the worst villain ever born. “Honestly! Haven’t you done enough?”

  Not nearly enough. Never enough. Marc sighed. “You have a new butler,” he said instead of taking her bait. They’d get nowhere discussing his guilt or lack thereof in regard to Staveley’s death. And none of that had anything to do with her present safety.

  Caroline’s brow scrunched up, and she blinked at him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your butler,” he said again. “Your former one was an old man when God created the Earth.” The fellow had to be dead these days. “But now you’ve got a new one.” And from the looks of the servant Marc had spotted just a bit ago, he was more than certain he’d already found Galloway’s man. “Where did you find him? Who recommended him?”

  She shook her head, and her golden brown curls bounced against her shoulders. “Why? Are you in the market for new servants, my lord?”

  Hardly. The few Marc did employ had been with him for years and were more loyal than he had a right to expect. “Well, you never know,” he said. “So, do humor me.”

  Caroline heaved a sigh. “Merton should have been pensioned off years ago, but Staveley adored him and vice versa. But now…” She seemed to choke back a sob.

  Marc tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. “What happened to him was awful,” he said softly. Marc had never cared for Staveley, though he hadn’t hated the man. He’d just hated the fact that the fellow had married Caroline before Marc had noticed her. He hated that Staveley got to hold and touch and make love to her. But he hadn’t wished the man murdered. After all the death he’d seen in his life, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Well…there were a few exceptions to that. Galloway being one. St. George being another.

  Caroline dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief and shook her head once more. �
�I cannot do this with you, Lord Haversham,” she stressed his title as though to keep a distance between them. “I simply cannot. Please don’t seek me out again.” And then she lifted his piece of cloth back to him.

  Marc grasped her fingers under the guise of retrieving his handkerchief, but he didn’t let her go. Holding her hand made warmth course through him like it always did whenever he was fortunate enough to touch her. “You can hate me all of your days, Caroline. You can hate me with your dying breath. But you know I care for you. You know I only want your safety. Sack your butler and hire someone else. I’ll send you Simmons, even.” Which was a fairly good idea now that Marc thought about it. If he couldn’t watch over her day and night himself, he had every bit of faith in the world that Simmons would keep her safe.

  “I am not letting Tindle go simply because you don’t like him for some reason.” She snatched her hand back from his grasp. “So go find some impassioned actress or revel in Bramley’s ill-gained fortune or whatever it is you do with your time. But leave me—”

  “Is everything all right?” the Earl of Peasemore asked, coming to stand right behind Caroline.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and the fight within her seemed to drain away as though she’d been rescued. “Oh, Lord Peasemore.”

  The damned man. He might not be as stiff-assed as his cousin Carraway, but he was still a bloody nuisance. “Why don’t you mind your own affairs?” Marc grumbled.

  But Peasmore just shot him a bright smile that basically said to go bugger off and then turned his full attention on the beautiful, widowed viscountess. “I am at your service should you need anything, my dear.”

  My dear? Marc itched to slam the young rake up against the side of the closest townhouse and give him a proper thrashing. If damned Peasemore thought—

  “I don’t suppose,” Caroline began, blinking up at the golden-haired blackguard, “I could trouble you to escort me to Carteret House?”

  Carteret House? One of the last places Marc would be allowed entry, which was probably why Caroline picked it.

  “It would be my honor,” Peasemore said smoothly and offered her his arm.

  Marc narrowed his eyes on the stubborn beauty as she linked her arm with the earl’s and let him lead her down Curzon Street. Damn her. She was not going to make this easy on him, not that he should have been surprised by that. But if she wouldn’t listen to reason, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

  “I’m terribly sorry to impose,” Caroline whispered to Lord Peasemore once they were out of Marc’s earshot. Heavens, her heart was thumping wildly. But Marc usually did have that sort of affect on her, she just generally hid that a bit better. Today, she wasn’t in any sort of state to engage in their usual battle of wills.

  The earl smiled as he shook his head. “Nonsense. I’m happy to be of assistance. If you’d like I could try to blacken his eye. I’m not sure that I have the same right hook as Carraway, but for you…”

  From somewhere inside Caroline, a mirthless laugh escaped her. She was too shaken for it to be a genuine one. “Oh, you are charming, aren’t you?”

  Peasemore winked at her. “That is what they say.”

  They said a lot more than that about the handsome earl, not all of it flattering. Or at least they had when she was in Town last. “Well, your reputation does precede you.”

  He laughed that time. “I’m certainly in trouble if that’s the case.”

  Caroline wondered briefly if Peasemore was still entangled in a scandalous affair with Louisa Ridgemont, not that it was any of her concern. But one would think that a charming, handsome fellow would eventually want a wife of his own, as opposed to someone else’s wife. In fact, he was exactly the sort of fellow she would have, once upon a time, felt compelled to find a match for. “You are fortunate I am not matchmaking any longer, my lord. I would have found the perfect girl for you, despite your reputation.”

  The earl laughed again. “Have you retired your mantel, my lady?”

  Caroline sighed. “I don’t think I have it in me any longer.” And she didn’t. How could she spend her time hoping to match the perfect pair when she felt so empty inside?

  “Not to fret.” Peasemore squeezed her fingers on his arm. “I’m certain it will just take time but then you’ll be back to yourself.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was possible in the least. “And if I was, you’d willingly go along with my plans without complaint?”

  The earl grinned widely. “I did not say that, Lady Staveley. No self-respecting rake goes to the altar of his own accord. Though I would be curious who you’d think to thrust in my path.”

  That was fair, she supposed. None of the gentlemen she’d helped find their own happy-ever-afters went along willingly, not at first anyway. That male stubbornness was exactly why they needed help. “If I was feeling like my old self, I suppose I’d ask you what sort of girl would interest you. I know a fair number, you know?”

  Peasemore laughed again. “Yes, I think you’ll be just fine in no time, my lady. I have no doubt.”

  “So no answer to my question, then?” she pressed lightly.

  He cast her a sidelong glance. “I’m afraid if I did answer that, it would get me into a bit of trouble.”

  With Louisa Ridgemont? Or from Caroline’s matchmaking reputation? That was the question, wasn’t it? If she was her old self, she would have found out rather quickly. A short conversation with Louisa would answer it in no time, but she wasn’t her old self, and she had no real desire to rekindle her friendship with Louisa. And so Caroline simply smiled at the earl. “Should you change your mind…”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” he teased as they took a left onto Queen Street.

  Carteret House was now within sight and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. She could talk the rest of the day away with Bethany Carteret, hearing tale after tale of the countess’ brood and not have to think about Marcus Gray.

  Chapter 3

  Marc wasn’t thinking clearly. He knew that. He knew that in his soul, but he couldn’t do anything about the fact. The mere suggestion that Caroline was in danger had him half out of his mind. He hadn’t slept more than a wink ever since Galloway’s sudden appearance in his study. The unaffected aloofness that Marc had adopted over the years was nowhere to be found as he knocked on Caroline’s door with Simmons in tow.

  The Staveley’s new butler opened the door and greeted Marc with a cool nod. “Sir?”

  “I’m an old friend of Lady Staveley’s,” he began.

  “I’m afraid Lady Staveley isn’t in at the moment.”

  Of which Marc was well aware. He’d waited until Caroline had left to go somewhere with her daughters before he and Simmons strode up the stoop to Staveley House. “Yes, well, I’m actually here because of you.”

  “Me?” The butler blanched a bit.

  Fellow must be a new operative. Galloway’s men usually were emotionless as a rule. Marc narrowed his eyes on the lackluster spy. “Indeed. Your services are no longer required by her ladyship.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The butler’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “You heard me. Now gather your things and don’t let me find you anywhere near Staveley House or you’ll meet a rather gruesome end,” he growled.

  The man looked positively ill at the suggestion. “Sir, I—”

  “I am not a patient fellow. Gather your things. Now.”

  The man turned tail and bolted down the hallway as though the devil himself chased after him.

  The front door would have slammed shut if Simmons hadn’t stopped it with his foot. “Are you certain that fellow is one of the under secretary’s men?” Simmons opened the door wide for Marc to precede him into the residence.

  Marc was less sure about that than he had been the day before. “With as quickly as he abandoned his post, he’s the last fellow who should be looking after Lady Staveley and her family.”

  “That is true.” Then Simmons shut the door be
hind them once they found their way into Caroline’s foyer.

  Marc glanced around the corridor. “If I was mistaken about the fellow’s loyalties, Simmons, then someone else in this household is employed by Galloway. I feel certain you can ferret out the guilty party.” He supposed the under secretary’s spy could be anyone in Caroline’s employ. The butler, he knew, was new in the household, but he might not be the only recently hired servant. Galloway’s man or woman could be someone he wouldn’t ever know or suspect was new. Or the infiltrator could even be an old servant, having kept an eye on Staveley before his death. Whomever he or she was, having Simmons at Staveley House was imperative to Caroline’s safety and to Marc’s peace of mind.

  “Of course, sir.” His loyal servant agreed with a nod of his head.

  “Lady Staveley will try to relieve you of your post.” And she would be in a right temper when she found out that he’d sacked her servant for her.

  Simmons smirked. “I am not that other fellow.”

  Which was precisely why Marc wanted Simmons installed at Staveley House. A lesser man would be run back to Haversham House with his tail between his legs after Caroline was done with him. But Simmons would remain at his post and keep a watchful eye on Caroline and her daughters, making certain no harm came to them. “You will send for me in case anything—”

  “You know I will, Lord Haversham.”

  And Marc breathed his first sigh of relief since he’d found the under secretary in his study a few days before. “Then I leave them in your capable hands, Simmons.”

  Heavens! For the first time in Caroline’s life she understood why her brother had arranged a marriage for her and at such a young age. Rachel would, most likely, be the death of her. Never before had her daughter been so difficult to deal with. That afternoon they’d bickered about the height of an appropriately modest bodice scoop, which half-boots were of the best quality, and the tedium of a string of pearls. And now, her once accommodating daughter was in a snit over not being granted permission to go riding in the park with Kitty Greywood the next morning. It was almost as though she didn’t even recognize Rachel anymore. One day she’d been a pleasant young lady and the next she was a stubborn, younger version of Caroline. If she’d driven her brother Robert this mad when she was Rachel’s age, it was no wonder he had accepted Staveley’s offer without even consulting Caroline about her wishes on the matter.