Family Scandals

by Denise Patrick

  So far he’d learned his grandfather was widely respected and well-loved. His countess less so as the people of St. Ayers never seemed to get past the fact that she was French. Miss Em—as his mother was known—was also well-loved and apparently a happy child. How had it all gone so wrong?

  Leaving the cemetery behind, he took a small track down to the shore and headed toward the nearest small village. Nestled among the craggy cliffs and steep hillside was the tiny fishing village of Distryn. He’d been told that an old fisherman named Ben who had known his grandfather and mother lived there.

  “Ye ’ave the look of ’im, ye do,” the crusty old sailor told Marcus. Seated at a table in the small pub, Old Ben, as the locals called him, peered at him through faded blue eyes and took a swig of the ale before him.

  The interior of the small establishment was bright in spots where the small windows tucked under wide, thatched eaves let in the bright morning light. Seated across from Old Ben at one of the long tables, they were the only patrons at this hour of the morning.

  “There ain’t none of the locals what believed ’e did what they said,” he told Marcus. “We all guessed it was that wife o’ ’is. But ’e was so smitten that ’e wouldna allow anyone to say anything against ’er.”

  “What about my mother?”

  “Miss Em were the prettiest little thing,” he answered with a smile, showing stained and chipped teeth. “She’d come ridin’ into the village wi’ ’er Pa, an’ everyone knew ’ow much ’e doted on ’er. She weren’t ’fraid o’ nuthin’. Loved the water too.”

  “What happened?” Marcus knew the story, but wondered if the villagers and locals around St. Ayers might shed more light on it than even his father had known.

  “I’m guessin’ it were the countess’s brother that started it all. ’E was some fancy piece from France. I ’eard tell that the countess’s father was a French Comte what lost near everything, including ’is ’ead, in the revolution.

  “Durin’ the war, ’er brother showed up an’ stayed fer a while. The first time the war was over, ’e went home, an’ we didn’t see ’im again ’til the year after Waterloo. After that, ’e came a lot, mostly fer a few days, then ’e would leave agin.”

  The innkeeper came by and cleared the breakfast dishes from the table. Inquiring as to whether they needed anything else, Marcus shook his head, gave him a number of coins, then turned back to the old sailor as the innkeeper bustled away. The brother was a new twist in the story.

  “The last time ’e was ’ere, I ’eard tell ’e tried t’ get the countess to leave wi’ ’im, but she wouldna go.”

  “Does anyone know why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why he wanted her to leave, or why she refused to go?”

  “Nope,” was the answer. “But I gots a guess,” he confided. “I’m thinkin’ the brother already knew they’d been found out an’ wanted to get ’is sister back to France.” He took another drink from his tankard and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “So, what happened next?”

  “Not long after, the soldiers came an’ took ’is lordship away. The countess an’ Miss Em followed, I’m guessin’, ’cause no one seen ’em agin till some months later. They came back, packed up, an’ left agin. ’Twas only a week later that someun brung the earl’s body back an’ buried ’im. Then, it was almost a year later afore a Mr. Mortimer showed up, sayin’ that ’e was the new steward fer the new owner who was the Duke o’ Warringham. An’ it were another whole year afore the duke came down to see the place fer ’isself.”

  For an old fisherman, Ben still had a quick mind. “Did she ever come back?”

  “Who?”

  “My mother.”

  The old man nodded. “Once I know’d of. She was all grow’d up and lookin’ like a fine lady, but she didn’t stay at the ’ouse. ’Stead she came to see those o’ us what know’d ’er afore. She tol’ me ’er Pa ’ad been innocent an’ she was gonna make ’em all pay fer ruinin’ their lives. After she left, I never seen ’er agin.”

  Corinna stood on the beach, watching the waves lap against the damp, packed sand at her feet. The ocean before her was vast, reaching toward a bright blue horizon where water and sky met. Despite the brilliant, flaming ball in the sky, the breeze fluttering the ribbons of her bonnet was sharp. And just what she needed to keep her head clear.

  She’d spent too much of the night going over her conversation with Marcus. It had occurred to her that, as a countess, she might have nothing to fear from Vincent. That, as Marcus’s wife, Vincent’s word might not weigh so heavily. After all, she hadn’t given her great-aunt the overdose of laudanum. Her aunt had taken it herself. Corinna hadn’t discovered it until she checked her on the way to bed. At most, Corinna was guilty of leaving her body there for someone else to find instead of alerting the authorities other death. It was what Aunt Mirabel had made her promise to do. Regardless, she knew her actions made her look like someone with something to hide.

  She’d taken nothing from the house except the Bible Aunt Mirabel had given her. It had once belonged to Aunt Mirabel’s brother, Corinna’s grandfather. She’d been eager to have it, hoping it would have a reference to her grandmother’s family. It did but, to her disappointment, only first names were listed on the family tree at the front. She would have to come up with some other way to find out which earl had been her great-grandfather.

  The thought of reclaiming her mother’s jewelry tempted her more than she’d realized. Some of the pieces had come from the unknown earl in her family tree and certainly didn’t belong to the Houghton family. Remembering the cold disdain in Ellen’s voice when she’d asked for her mother’s jewels still made her cringe.

  Enough. She turned away from the sun reflecting off the water. She’d walked down to the beach because she needed to think. It was her afternoon off and she knew the duke and duchess had taken the children riding. She moved to her favorite perch. The large boulder was strong, solid, stable. A bit like Marcus. Which also made it stubborn, self-assured and single-minded. Well, perhaps not. Attributing feelings to a rock was going a bit too far.

  She sighed and sat on the rough surface. Why was she making this more difficult than it should be? She knew she still carried a tendre for him, so why not let go and just agree? Because she knew that if he never reciprocated, she would be the one hurt. But if she let him go, she might not have another chance.

  She closed her eyes and pictured him yesterday. The tenderness in his eyes as he spoke to her had given her hope. Just know this, I will not stray from the marriage bed, nor will I ever hurt you. He had no idea of the hurt unanswered love caused, yet his sincerity had shown a caring side. One she hoped someday would grow into something deeper, something more.

  Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around them and perched her chin on top. Until arriving in Cornwall, she’d never given thought to the enormity of the sea. As she gazed across the rippling surface, she thought of the courage it took to brave the unknown, as sailors must have done in centuries past. Perhaps now was the time to take a piece of that courage for herself.

  The sound of gravel crunching underfoot reached her and she turned to see who had joined her. Her heart reacted to the sight of Marcus reaching the end of the pathway, and her breathing hitched at the easy way he strode across the sand. If only she could be so confident.

  “How did you know where I was?” she asked as he reached her. There was no use in assuming he hadn’t been looking for her. He expected an answer today. What other reason would he have for searching her out?

  He grinned. “I saw you walking this way a short time ago and knew you were alone. I may be wrong, but I assumed you might have come out here to think.”

  She nodded and looked away. At the far end of the beach a couple of seagulls landed, looking for food, then took off again.

  “And I suppose you came to help?” She turned back to him.

  He was still for a moment, studying her. Th
en, “No. I suspect you are capable of thinking things through on your own. But if you wanted to discuss…”

  She sighed and stood up. She was at too much of a disadvantage sitting down. “There’s not much more to discuss. I’ve been over what we talked about yesterday and even though I don’t like it, you’re right.” She turned and walked down to the water’s edge. “I wish I could just move on with my life without bothering with my family. Unfortunately, I don’t see any other way unless I’m willing to allow Gregory to cheat me of my inheritance—and you of my dowry.”

  “I don’t need your dowry, Corinna. But I don’t want your family to profit from their lies. And that’s what you would allow to happen if you just disappear.”

  She blinked back the tears that gathered and nodded. Why did he have to be right? His presence behind her gave her comfort. What he would do if she leaned back? Moments later she wondered if he’d read her mind when his arms slipped around her waist and he rested his cheek against her temple. Or perhaps he’d known she needed comfort.

  She turned in his arms and raised her gaze to his face. He was smiling down at her and she once again felt slightly dizzy. She blinked to right herself and remember what she meant to say.

  “There is something you need to know before I agree to this.” Nothing more than mild curiosity entered his expression. Would it turn to horror once she told him? “I have a cousin, Vincent, who also might be looking for me.” As she told him the story of how she came to run away from her home, anger sparked in his eyes.

  “So, I was right,” he growled. “I thought they might try to turn you into an unpaid servant.”

  Her fingers toyed with a button on his shirt. “I didn’t mind helping if it was behind the scenes, but I discovered that I couldn’t bring myself to do what Ellen wanted. I suppose it was then that I realized how much she hated me.” She forced herself to still her fingers as she continued. “I was naive. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might dislike me more than my own sisters and brothers, but she obviously does and I have no idea why.”

  “Your father caused it. He probably thought he was in the right, but even Douglas understood that you and your mother would likely suffer from your father’s actions.”

  She tilted her head, studying his grim expression for a moment. “What did he do?”

  Marcus looked up over her head. It seemed like minutes passed before he responded. “Do you remember when your brother, Gregory, married?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “I’m not surprised. The story as I know it came from Douglas. Apparently, when the wedding invitations went out your father received an invitation that indicated your mother was not welcome. In retaliation, not only did he refuse to attend, but he also refused to receive Ellen, or her family. As Ellen’s father is a viscount, you can imagine how well that was received and how embarrassed Gregory was over it.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “There’s no reason why you should. But that should explain a little more about why Douglas was so insistent that you never be subject to any of your siblings’ control, especially Gregory.”

  She leaned her forehead against the material covering his chest and took a deep breath. The cool tang of the sea mixed with the scent of warm male nearly made her lightheaded. Closing her eyes momentarily, she reordered her thoughts and looked back up at him to resume her story.

  She was in tears and Marcus was frowning by the time she ended her narration.

  “I didn’t want to leave her, but she made me promise. I know why she did, but I still feel as if I…I…”

  “There’s nothing to feel guilty about,” he told her gently. “If your cousin was truly bent on mischief, you were right to honor your promise. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I know,” she sniffed. Marcus produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. “But suppose Vincent has said something to the authorities and they are out looking for me?”

  “Is this why you have no wish to return to London?”

  Her nod of confirmation was slow in coming. Even so, she didn’t resist when Marcus tightened his arms and pulled her closer.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of, Corinna. I will protect you. I hope you believe that.”

  “I do, but that doesn’t make me less afraid of Vincent. He is violent when crossed.”

  “Then we will do what we can to ensure that your paths do not cross.”

  Corinna wasn’t certain how they were to accomplish that when she wasn’t certain where Vincent might be found in London, but pushed it to the back of her mind. For now, there were other more pressing matters to decide.

  “Now what?” she asked. “How do we explain this to…to everyone?”

  “For Brand and Felicia, the truth will be best. For everyone else, I suggest we worry about it when it happens.”

  There was a new, more intimate, tone to his voice and she looked up to gauge his mood. The warmth in his eyes had nothing to do with the fluttering in her stomach, she told herself. Nor did his hand on her back have anything to do with her slowly dissolving knees.

  “Could we wait until the children are in bed before we say anything?”

  “As long as you agree to have dinner with us. We can tell Brand and Felicia over dinner.”

  “Very well.”

  He raised a hand to stroke her cheek and she leaned into the caress. This would work. She would not be a clinging burden and afraid of her own shadow. That was the old Corinna. With Marcus’s help, she would be independent and not allow Vincent or her family to control her life.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips, reminding her of the feel of them two nights ago, and the emotions they aroused in her. Would she feel the same way again if he kissed her now?

  The thought was lost moments later when he did just that. For a moment surprise coursed through her veins, then she parted her lips as he pulled her closer, inviting him in. Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him back. Remembering their first kiss, she met his questing tongue with her own. Tilting her head to the side, she returned his kiss with a passion she never expected to feel.

  His response was to nearly crush her small, soft frame to his harder one. She was conscious of her breasts pressed against his chest, his muscled thighs pressed against her hips, and the gentleness of his kiss in contrast. Despite his tight hold on her, he did not overwhelm her. Instead his lips were soft and tender against hers as their tongues mated in a scandalous way.

  When he raised his head, she ducked hers as embarrassment painted her cheeks. She had wanted him to kiss her, but now that he’d fulfilled that wish, she worried that she’d been too bold, too brazen in her enjoyment.

  She broke away and turned to look out at the sea, the cool air returning her burning cheeks to a normal temperature. When she felt sufficiently composed, she turned back to him.

  “What next?”

  His dark gaze was unreadable as he looked down at her and she wished she could hide her own feelings as well as he did.

  “We start with the staff.”

  He held out his hand and she took it as if nothing had happened. Ignoring the frisson of awareness that traveled up her arm, she allowed him to escort her up the path to the house.

  “Diana Houghton is your sister?” These were the first words the duchess said to her after listening to their incredible tale, and, when she nodded in confirmation, added, “My sympathies.”

  Corinna did not expect that comment and smothered a giggle at the droll tone in which it was delivered. “You knew Diana?”

  It was Felicia’s turn to giggle like a schoolgirl. “I’m afraid Diana and I have quite a history. We knew each other at Miss Ridley’s and came out together, but we have never been friends. Since I married, our paths do not cross that often. As I once told my sister-in-law, being a duchess has its benefits. People like your sister either suddenly try to be your friends, or avoid you altogether in hopes that you will not cut them and thereby ruin them socially. Your sister wisely chose the second path.
”

  Neither paid attention to the laughter that comment drew from Brand and Marcus. Felicia took a sip of wine. “We must see to the moving of your things to the Countess’s suite. Marcus is correct. It will be best for you to be firmly established when Eliza arrives.”

  “It’s heartening to know I got something right,” Marcus remarked. “And it has already been done.”

  Felicia smiled at him. “You were busy this afternoon.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Once I convinced her, there was no need to hesitate. She might have changed her mind again.”

  Corinna frowned at him as she took a bite of her fish. It seemed too easy. The duke and duchess had accepted the story without hesitation. “What will we tell the children? And what of their lessons?”

  “The children will survive without lessons for a few days, although I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Kendall arrived within a day or two. Michael and Caroline won’t mind spending time with us. And they will have plenty of company once their cousins arrive. Besides, they need to get used to the fact that you are no longer their governess, but their aunt. Oh, and you must call me Felicia.”

  “Then you must call me Corinna.”

  Corinna speared a buttered potato, sliced into it and took a bite. As she chewed, she was aware of no longer being anxious. After their time on the beach, she and Marcus had returned to the house and he had introduced her to Pulliam and Mrs. Barker as his wife. She supposed the servants had no option but to accept her, but the entire situation must seem strange to them indeed.

  Marcus watched the play of emotions across Corinna’s face and wondered what she was thinking. She had expected the worst, he was certain, and had been completely taken aback by everyone’s ready acceptance. Brand had been silent, but there was no censure in his eyes. He suspected Brand’s questions would come once the meal was finished and they were alone. He didn’t mind. There were some things he’d like to discuss with Brand that Corinna needn’t know about.