A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4)

 
A Scandalous Past

Ava Stone

Copyright © 2011 by Ava Stone

Cover Design by Lily Smith

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The characters and events portrayed in this
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For my amazing critique partners:

Heather Boyd

Louisa Cornell

Lydia Dare

Amy DeTrempe

Tammy Falkner

Catherine Gayle

Lily George

Samantha Grace

Melissa Hartsell

Julie Johnstone

Erin Knightley

Jerrica Knight-Catania

July 1814 –Avery House, London

Cordelia Avery was certain she hadn’t heard
her mother correctly. It wasn’t even possible that her mother had
changed her opinion about attending the Staveley ball. “I beg your
pardon?”

Lady Avery dropped her napkin to the
breakfast table and narrowed her light green eyes on her only
daughter. “I said the only reason we’re even attending Lady
Staveley’s ball is because Sally Jersey expressly asked us to be
present.”

Cordie nearly dropped her fork onto the
table, but that would only earn her another lecture on comportment,
so she grasped the utensil tighter.  Ever since her dearest
friend Olivia, the newlywed Duchess of Kelfield, had hastily
married a rather scandalous duke, Lady Avery’s entire demeanor had
changed.  Not only was Cordie not allowed to see Livvie, she
might as well have been shackled to her mother for all the freedom
and spare time she enjoyed.

Cordie nodded, but didn’t say
anything.  Her mother had agreed to the ball.  If she
opened her mouth, Lady Avery might very well change her mind, and
she couldn’t risk that.  Livvie was certain to be at the
Staveleys’, as they were relations, and it would be the first time
since her wedding that Cordie would have the opportunity to see her
dear friend. 

“I do want you to promise me not to
associate with either Olivia or Kelfield.”

“Of course, Mother. You’ve been very clear
on the subject,” Cordie lied, her fingers crossed beneath the
table.  She didn’t really think the crossed fingers made the
sin any less, but it was the best she could do at the moment. 
After all, she couldn’t tell her mother that she had every
intention of speaking with both Livvie
and
Kelfield, if the
latter happened to be present.

Since they were children, she and Livvie had
been inseparable, growing up in a village that bordered Sherwood
Forest.  Until Livvie’s recent marriage, they’d seen each
other every day of their lives.  The forced separation twisted
Cordie’s heart and left her feeling strangely alone.

“Thankfully no one outside the family knows
you jilted the man, but between that unfortunate situation and
Olivia’s scandalous actions your reputation is dangling by a
thread. And now since you’ve rejected Captain Seaton’s offer,
you’ll have to be on your absolute best behavior if you want to
catch a
proper
husband.”

Cordie resisted the urge to roll her
eyes.  She hadn’t
jilted
Gabriel Seaton, not
technically.  After all, they weren’t officially betrothed.
He’d never gotten the opportunity to speak with her brother,
Gregory, on the matter.  It was a narrow escape in Cordie’s
mind, and she was grateful that she learned just what sort of a
dictatorial prig the captain was before their betrothal could be
finalized. Not that she should have been surprised. He was a
captain, accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed. But that
sort of life wasn’t for Cordie. She was looking for a little more
freedom.

She feigned an accommodating smile for her
mother and placed her fork on her plate. “Catching a
proper
husband is, of course, my goal.”  And truly it
was
,
though Cordie had a feeling that her idea of a proper husband and
her mother’s were quite different.

Lady Avery frowned, and Cordie wondered if
her mother could read her thoughts. “One wouldn’t know it. Your
sister was already married with one babe by the time she was your
age.”

Cordie suppressed the urge to scowl. 
Her mother made it sound as if she were on her deathbed.  At
twenty, it was true she was far from the youngest debutant in Town,
but neither was she the oldest.  And she’d had plenty of
offers the three previous seasons, but until the captain, no one
had turned her head—and what a colossal mistake
that
would
have been.

“You’ll be fortunate if any decent man will
look past your association with Olivia.”

She wouldn’t tolerate a husband who
wouldn’t. Neither would she tolerate a husband who wouldn’t allow
her to continue her friendship with Olivia. This breakfast
discussion made one thing perfectly clear.  She needed to find
a husband—quickly—but one
she
could live with the rest of
her days, her mother be hanged. A husband who would give her the
freedom she craved. A husband who would let her make her own
decisions. A husband who would love her like Kelfield obviously
loved Olivia.

But where was she to find a paragon like
that?

***

Almost to his Mayfair home, Brendan Reese,
the Earl of Clayworth, stifled a yawn. The last bloody place he
wanted to be was London, and yet he’d raced here from his
Derbyshire estate after receiving a summons from Caroline
Staveley.  Apparently Caroline’s young cousin Olivia had
gotten herself into a bit of trouble with the Duke of Kelfield and
had been forced to marry the notorious scoundrel. The new duchess
was being accepted less warmly than a leper in the midst of the
ton
. So Caroline, a meddlesome but lovely woman to be sure,
was determined to change the tide of opinion in her cousin’s favor
and was hosting a ball in honor of the duke and his new
duchess.

This was the sort of thing Brendan normally
could care less about. He had enough of his own problems, and had
anyone else summoned him with the words, “Your stodgy presence is
required to lend Livvie an air of respectability,” he would have
told the author to go jump in the Thames.  But he could rarely
refuse Caroline. Not only was she the sister of one of his closest
friends, but she was also one of the few people who had been kind
to his late sister, Flora.  That generosity could never be
repaid.

Still, now was not the best time for him to
leave Derbyshire. His youngest sister, Rosamund, was becoming more
and more difficult to manage and his nephew, Thomas, was in
desperate need of some male guidance.  And he still hadn’t
found those damning letters that could get them all sent to
Newgate. Perhaps he could search again in London, as if he hadn’t
already done that more than a dozen times already.

Of course, he’d already looked every place
he could think of, more times than he could count. Brendan had
methodically searched his ancestral home, Bayhurst Court in
Derbyshire, from top to bottom, gone over every inch of Clayworth
Hall in Kent, he’d gone through every nook and cranny of his
hunting lodge in Yorkshire, and he’d gone over his Hertford Street
home with a fine-toothed comb more than once.  But the letters
detailing his mother’s crimes against the crown were nowhere to be
found,  and the only clue he had was the memory of his late
wife’s cryptic taunt.  “The Lion holds your secrets.”  He
didn’t know what the devil that meant.

The coach pulled to a stop in front of his
Mayfair home. Brendan exited the carriage then climbed the front
steps to be greeted by his butler, Higgins.

“Lord Clayworth, Lord Masten awaits you in
the blue parlor.”

How odd. Brendan raised his brow in question
at his butler. He hadn’t realized Masten was in Town. Even so, it
was unusual for his friend to await him here, especially as
he
hadn’t yet arrived.

He strode down the hallway until he reached
the blue parlor, a tacky room that his late wife had decorated—a
room he should scrap and start all over, if for no other reason
than he hated to be reminded that Marina had ever entered his
life.

Brendan found Robert Beckford, the Earl of
Masten, staring out one of the room’s grand windows.  His
friend’s hands were clasped behind his back and he was grumbling to
himself.

“Robert?”

His friend spun on his heel and offered a
curt smile.  “I see she’s roped you into this nonsense as
well.”

Robert could only mean his sister,
Caroline.  Brendan shrugged. “When Lady Staveley beckons, we
all fall in line.”

“Like the pack of fools we are,” Robert
agreed.  “What Aunt Jane thought she was doing, leaving Olivia
with Staveley and my sister, I have no idea.”

“If it’s any consolation, Rob, when I saw
them in Derbyshire, Kelfield seemed like a man besotted. I wouldn’t
have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“Bloody wonderful. My sweet, young cousin
has married one of the most depraved men in all of England.”

To say the very least. Brendan could
commiserate.  If it had been one of his sisters or cousins who
ended up with Kelfield, he’d be as irate as Robert.  “It could
be worse,” he offered, shrugging again.

“Oh?” His friend’s brown eyes flashed with
indignation.

“It could have been Haversham.”

***

Marcus Gray, the Marquess of Haversham, left
Madam Palmer’s establishment sated, but not completely satisfied.
Though professional whores were fairly proficient at their trade,
they often left something to be desired. What he
needed
was a mistress, though that was a touchy subject at the
moment.  Right before his wedding, Kelfield had cut his pretty
actress loose, and Marc had hoped to snatch up the sweet little
number in his stead.  Unfortunately, Sarah Kane had already
found a new protector, so Marc was still in the market.

As it was too early for most of his usual
entertainments, Marc headed over to White’s, which was, admittedly,
a little tame for him.  But ever since Kelfield had married,
his old friend was playing at being respectable. It was truly a
sight to cherish—and place bets on how long it would last.

After entering the hallowed halls of the
club, it didn’t take Marc long to find his old friend Alexander
Everett, the Duke of Kelfield, in the library, sitting in an
over-stuffed leather chair, perusing
The Times
.

Marc quietly shook his head.  Though he
had witnessed the wedding himself, it was still hard to believe the
old devil had actually married the chit.  No land, no fortune
was gained—just the girl.  It didn’t make one bit of sense.
Not for a man like Kelfield anyway.

“I have seen neither hide nor hair of you
since Macbeth,” Marc drawled as he looked down on his friend.

“What does that tell you, Marc?” Kelfield
didn’t bother to look up from his paper, which brought a wry grin
to the marquess’ face. It must be terribly tedious, pretending to
be so respectable.

“Well, you can’t be avoiding
me
. So I
can only assume you’re keeping that pretty little wife of yours
tied up at Kelfield House.  Has she asked about me?” 
Marc dropped onto a settee across from the duke and
smirked. 

Kelfield scowled over the edge of his
paper.  “Only to berate me for my poor choice of friends.”

“Browbeaten already, are you?” Marc
cheerfully baited him.

The duke folded his paper in half and
narrowed his eyes, clearly allowing Marc to see the true Kelfield,
hiding just beneath the surface. “I’m certain you know me better
than that, Haversham.  Now what do you want?”

“To curse you for leaving Miss Kane so well
positioned.”

“Turned you down flat, did
she?”   

“Bastard,” Marc answered with a nod. “She’s
attached herself to Haywood.  Can you believe that?” It was
certainly hard for
him
to swallow.  The penniless baron
wasn’t in the same league as Marc. It shouldn’t have been a
contest, and wouldn’t have been if Kelfield hadn’t left the girl a
small fortune as a parting gift.