A Scandalous Pursuit

by Ava Stone

  “Miss Avery,” Alex answered. “But she’s not your sort.”

  A rakish smile curved the marquess’ lips. “Funny. She looks exactly like my sort.”

  “Then I suggest you stop looking. Lady Avery is a high stickler and won’t appreciate your attentions towards her daughter. She hasn’t even let the poor girl talk to Olivia since our wedding.”

  “They’re talking now,” Marc replied, his eyes fixed on the pretty Miss Avery.

  “You are truly happy?” Cordie asked for at least the tenth time.

  Livvie smiled. She’d never been happier than when she was with her husband. “You know that old adage about reformed rakes making the best husbands? Very true.”

  “Is he truly reformed?”

  “Mostly.” He spent his days at White’s and his afternoons playing with Poppy. But his nights were spent with her in wild abandon—most definitely not the actions of a reformed rake. “But enough about me, Cordie. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  “I’ve taken to walking Rotten Row with mother on a daily basis.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Then she drags me along to all sorts of charitable teas and luncheons, and lectures me nearly non-stop about my comportment.”

  “All because of me?” Livvie asked quietly, as the first chords of a waltz began.

  “All because I refused Captain Seaton. Honestly, Livvie, I so envy you. Kelfield would never dream of dictating who you could visit, who your friends were. I was glad to know that about the captain before I accepted him. What a dreadful life that would have been. And in watching you and Kelfield, I think I know exactly what sort of man might suit me.”

  “What sort?” Livvie asked, almost afraid of the answer.

  The sort who won’t restrict me. The sort who will give me free reign. Someone like your Kelfield.”

  A shadow fell over them, and Livvie looked up into the dancing blue eyes of the Marquess of Haversham. Good heavens! Why had Caroline invited him? “My lord,” she said coolly.

  A roughish smile lit his face. “My darling duchess, I have already asked you to call me Marc.”

  Livvie shook her head, a false smile plastered on her face. “But that would imply we are intimates, Lord Haversham, and we are not.”

  “My loss,” he replied with a wink. Then he focused his light blue eyes on Cordie. “We have not had the pleasure.”

  Livvie straightened her back and pursed her lips. “If you’re looking for a proper introduction, then I suggest you find Miss Avery’s mother.”

  An anguished squeak escaped Cordie’s lips. Livvie turned to look at her friend and was disheartened to find her gazing at the wicked marquess in wonderment. Someone like your Kelfield, echoed in her ears. Livvie nearly groaned.

  Haversham smiled at Cordie. “I’m rarely proper. So I think I’ll forgo speaking to Lady Avery, as I’m sure she’d only tell me no, and I have no desire to be turned away from you, my dear.”

  Cordie sighed. “That’s not the least bit conventional, my lord.”

  He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. “Conventional is boring. Might I entice you to stand up with me?”

  “Cordie,” Livvie whispered, “your mother will have an apoplexy.”

  “Let her,” Cordie whispered back. Then she accepted the marquess’ arm and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

  What was Cordie thinking? Haversham? Livvie stood, dumbstruck, staring at the two of them. A month ago Cordelia would never have taken off with the disreputable marquess. Until this very moment, she’d never noticed a rebellious streak in her friend. Her heart pounded with worry.

  A pair of familiar hands planted themselves on her waist and Livvie turned her head, frowning at her husband. “I think she’s lost all sense.”

  “The damned blackguard. I told him to stay away from her. I turned my back for two minutes, offering my farewell to Simon.”

  Suddenly there was a shrill scream from the game room doorway. Then a bobbing purple ostrich feather appeared to rush through the crowd. Livvie didn’t need to see who it was. Only Lady Avery could make the scene any worse. She couldn’t watch the altercation, and she buried her face against Alex’s chest. “May we go home now?”

  Nearly a fortnight later, Caroline was still annoyed with the Marquess of Haversham. Her ball had been the talk of the ton ever since it ended, but not in the way she’d hoped. Though Livvie hadn’t suffered from the wicked marquess’ blatant disregard for propriety, the situation hadn’t helped her any either. And who knew when anyone would see Miss Avery again. Her mother had caused quite the scene, ripping the girl out of Haversham’s arms and marching her out the front door.

  As she sat in her white parlor, contemplating what was to be done about the situation, her decrepit butler, Merton, entered the room and announced, “Her Grace, the Duchess of Kelfield.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Merton,” Livvie said from behind him. “Such pomp and circumstance is not needed. I lived here, you might remember.” Then she slid into the room with a smile.

  “Olivia darling!” Caroline stood and crossed the room, enveloping her cousin in a warm embrace. “So good to see you.”

  “You, as well, Caroline. I hope it’s all right, I brought Poppy and she’s gone up to play with Emma.”

  “Of course! Sit, sit,” she directed, leading Livvie to a white damask chaise and taking the spot next to her. “How are you doing?”

  Livvie’s smile vanished. “Not well, I’m afraid. I’ve been feeling awful. I think all this anxiety is making me ill.”

  “Oh, darling, don’t fret. Everything will be all right.”

  Livvie shook her head. “I haven’t heard from Cordie since your ball. I sent a dozen messengers with notes for her, but Lady Avery has sent them all away, returning each letter unread.”

  “They left Town,” Caroline informed her. “I still can’t imagine what she was thinking to stand up with Haversham.”

  “She was looking for someone like Alex, and Haversham appeared before her at the wrong time.”

  Caroline couldn’t help but gape. “Looking for someone like Alex? Good heavens, that’s a dangerous road to travel. I hope she didn’t inform Gladys of her plans. Who knows what that harpy is capable of?”

  Just then the door opened and Staveley stepped inside. “Oh, Olivia, I didn’t know you were here. How are you, my dear?”

  “Wonderful, thank you, Staveley.”

  He winked at her and then turned his attention to his wife. “Dear, I’ve run out of quills. Do you happen to have any?”

  “Yes, of course. The top drawer in my desk.”

  “Thank you,” Staveley replied and left them alone.

  Caroline was still reeling from Olivia’s comment about her friend. “Doesn’t she realize what a dangerous sort of man he is? You were terribly lucky with Kelfield. Though he was a rogue to be sure, he’s always had a kind heart. I’m not sure the same can be said for the marquess. Of course, I remember when he abducted that girl who jilted him years ago. Her family covered it up and she hastily married another fellow, but he’s certainly not the sort I would trust within an inch of my life.”

  Livvie’s eyes grew wide. “He abducted a girl? Honestly, I had no idea, Caroline.”

  “It was a long time ago, even before his marriage. The good news, I suppose, is that if you can’t get a letter through to her, Haversham can’t find her either. I’m sure she’s relatively safe from the blackguard.”

  “Perhaps. But Lady Avery’s over-protectiveness is what drove her into the marquess’ arms in the first place. She doesn’t want to be dictated to. She thinks someone like Alex or Haversham will give her more freedom than Captain Seaton would have.”

  Caroline rubbed her brow. She did not envy Gladys Avery in the least, and she sent up a silent prayer that neither of her own daughters would ever throw themselves in the path of notorious scoundrels.

  “Olivia,” came Staveley’s voice from the doorway. “This was with today’s post,” he said,
waving a letter in his hands. “How fortunate you came to visit.”

  Caroline’s heart sank as she met her husband’s eyes. She’d gone through the post herself today and nothing had come for Livvie. But in the top desk drawer where she’d sent Staveley to get quills, Major Moore’s letter had been accumulating dust. She’d never found the right time to give it to Olivia.

  Blast it!

  She obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly, or she never would have sent him there in the first place. Staveley was too honorable for his own good.

  Who would send her a letter here? Everyone knew she lived at Kelfield House. Then it came to her in a flash.

  Her mother.

  In India, it would take months for her parents to learn of her marriage. Livvie anxiously snatched the letter from Staveley. It had been forever since she’d had word from her parents. And then her heart stopped as she turned the foolscap over in her hands.

  Philip’s handwriting.

  She felt sick all over again. And then everything went black…

  “Dear God! Olivia darling!” Caroline’s words sounded far away, as though she was in a tunnel of some sort. “What were you thinking giving her that letter?”

  “Olivia?” Staveley asked.

  Livvie managed to blink open her eyes, and she found herself staring into both Caroline and Staveley’s concerned faces. “Wh-what happened?”

  “You fainted,” Staveley explained. “I’ll get water.”

  Caroline helped her back to her feet and over to the chaise. “Darling, take a deep breath. Are you all right?”

  Livvie nodded her head. “I just hadn’t expected to hear from Philip. Oh, Caroline, I feel like such a fool.” She waved her arm in the general area where she’d collapsed.

  “It’s completely understandable. Just take another breath.” After Livvie complied, Caroline continued. “You don’t have to read the letter, darling. Especially, if it’s too difficult.”

  Except that she did need to read it. She owed at least that much to Philip. How incredibly disrespectful not to do so. The letter in her hand shook with a tremor and she clutched it to her heart.

  Staveley rushed back with a goblet of water. “Here, Livvie, drink this.”

  Alex rolled over, missing Olivia’s warmth. He blindly reached across the bed, hoping to pull his wife back into his arms, but she wasn’t there. His eyes flew open and his mind whirled. She hadn’t seemed herself all day. Distracted was an apt description. Even though they now shared his bed, it was the first night since they’d married they hadn’t made love.

  The soothing smell of lilacs invaded his senses when he squeezed the pillow next to his. Where was

  When there was no answer, he threw on his robe and went in search of his wife. He didn’t have to look far. A warm glow of candlelight spilled into his room from under their connecting door.

  Livvie sat on her bed, staring at Philip’s letter for what felt like forever. Every time she started to open it, she stopped herself. It didn’t matter what he’d written—not really. She was married to Alex and nothing would ever change that. She didn’t want it to ever change. Still, Philip had been such a large part of her life, long before she’d ever met Alex.

  And she did love Philip. She always would. Not the deep, all-encompassing love she felt for her husband, but it was love. She could never think about her childhood without remembering Philip as well. He was a part of her, always had been. Philip was honorable and brave. Sweet and loving. He was everything she’d ever wanted—until Alex blazed his way into her life, and she realized she wanted someone, something completely different than she could have ever imagined.

  It was painful to know she would hurt him—her dear, sweet Philip, who deserved much more than she’d given him. It was inevitable. The letter taunted her from her lap, and she swiped at her tears.

  She was acting a coward.

  Finally, Livvie took a deep breath and opened the letter.

  June 8, 1814

  My dearest Olivia,

  I received the most wonderful news today, my love. In just a few days, I will begin my journey home and to you. I had begun to think this time would never come, that I would remain in France for the rest of my days. Now as my departure approaches, I find myself more anxious than ever to see you, to hold you, to finally give you my name. I promise to never leave you again, as our separation has been very difficult for me, as I am sure it has been for you. For that I am very sorry.

  I love you with all my heart, Olivia, and I thank God every night for keeping me whole and hale and able to return to you.

  I wish you could have seen Russell’s face when he got the news. He was…

  “Olivia?” Alex asked from the doorway.

  She dropped the letter, as if it had burned her, and tried to wipe the trail of tears from her face.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she offered lamely.

  “You’re crying,” he said and quickly crossed the room to her side.

  Livvie stood and tried to shuffle the letter under the bed. “I’m fine. I just—”

  “What is this?” Alex asked, scooping the letter off the ground.

  Livvie wished the floor would open her up and swallow her whole. Why did Alex have to wake up? Why did he have to find the letter? “It’s nothing. Really,” she pleaded.

  “It’s not nothing. It’s a letter.” He gently touched her cheek. “Has something happened to upset you, sweetheart?”

  “No,” she answered quietly, hoping he’d hand the letter back to her. She’d done nothing wrong, but she wasn’t certain he’d see it that way.

  “Olivia, I’m not a fool,” he said softly. “You’re awake in the middle of the night, crying, reading a letter, and then hiding…” Alex’s silver eyes narrowed to angry shards of steel, as he apparently worked out the mystery on his own. “Philip Moore,” he growled.

  He thrust the letter at her, as if the pages suddenly scalded him. Livvie watched them scatter about the floor. She swallowed nervously as his murderous gaze settled on her. “Alex, it’s not what you think,” she hastened to explain.

  But her husband paid her no attention. Without another word, he stalked across the floor to his chambers, slamming the door closed with such a force the floor quake beneath her feet.

  Livvie stared at the closed door for the longest time. She’d never seen him lose his temper. Not like that. Not with her. The sound of a key turning in the lock of their connecting door hit Livvie’s ears, and her heart sank. An emptiness settled deep in her belly and she felt sick. Livvie dropped onto her bed, her body wracked with tears.

  Alex paced around his room, cursing himself for a fool. He’d always known she loved Moore. It had never been a secret. Yet, he’d still foolishly allowed himself to believe that she’d come to care about him anyway, that she loved him. Ridiculous. Fatuous. Delusional. All born from his love for her.

  A lump formed in his throat as he overheard her, next door, sobbing her eyes out. Alex winced at the sounds she made. It was unbearable, listening to her pain, knowing that despite everything she still loved Philip Moore.

  Another rejection from a woman he loved was too much for him to face. Alex threw on the clothes he’d worn earlier in the day. He couldn’t stay here tonight, knowing that his marriage slowly crumbled away with each sob she uttered. That was of course if he pretended that they’d had a marriage of note in the first place. Olivia had never chosen him—would never have chosen him.

  The last several weeks were false. He’d known it all along, but he’d allowed himself to believe the lie. He wouldn’t continue to do so.

  Alex hurried from his house and easily hailed a hack. “Bedford Place,” he barked at the driver. Then he sank back against the old squabs and closed his eyes. One name, a balm for his soul – Sarah.

  As the hack rolled to a stop in front of Sarah’s quaint home, Alex looked out the window. He didn’t even need the full moon to make out the house, as warm candles glowed in her front room. Tha
nk heavens! He wouldn’t want to wake her. Then male laughter from within halted Alex in his tracks, and his heart sank even more.

  William Haywood must be with Sarah. Her new paramour. His successor.

  He squeezed his eyes tightly, willing all his pain away. He couldn’t intrude on Sarah, not even after the promise she made him give her. They’d both moved on. He just hoped she had found the happiness that eluded him.

  Alex opened the door and yelled back up to the driver. “Change in plans. St. James instead, please.” He could drink himself to oblivion at his club, which was much preferable to hearing his wife cry over the only man she’d ever loved.

  Under the hazy full moon, Major Philip Moore could make out the chalky cliffs of Dover. England! Home! Thank God! There were times in the last few years when he didn’t think this day would ever come.

  In another day he’d be in London, with Livvie back in his arms where she belonged. Then he’d never let her go. He’d seen enough of war and death in his twenty-five years to last a lifetime. A quiet, peaceful life awaited him in Papplewick, and he could hardly wait to start it.

  A hand clapped his back and he turned, grinning into the green eyes of Captain Russell Avery. “Nearly home.”

  “Indeed,” Russell smiled in return. I’ve been dreaming the last little while about a hero’s welcome in the arms of a sweet-smelling English girl. Tristan and I have plans to go straight to Madam Palmers once we arrive in London.”

  Philip chuckled and shook his head. “Your mother won’t let you out of her sight.”

  “Well, that’s where you come in, my friend. You can distract her with your tales of valor while Tristan and I escape out the back.”

  Again Philip laughed. “Sorry, Russell. Once we get settled, I’m heading over to Lord Staveley’s. It’s been forever since I’ve seen Olivia. You don’t think she’s forgotten me do you?”

  “Livvie?” Russell asked, shaking his head. “She worships you. Always has.”