by Ava Stone
Someone scratched on the other side of the door. Cordie frowned. “One moment, Sanders,” she called.
Marc ran his finger along her lower lip. God he wanted to take her right now. “A kiss, then,” he finally said with a wicked grin. “But I choose where.” He’d make her strip down before he decided where his lips would start.
“As long as it’s not out in the open for anyone else to see.”
What a strange thing to say. Of course no one would see. What sorts of things did she have in mind? “My gorgeous girl, you can rest assured that no one but I will see where I plan to kiss you.”
The scratch at the door came again, more insistent this time. “Coming, Sanders,” Cordelia said, slipping out of Marc’s grasp. Then she opened the door and rushed into the hallway.
He found the Avery’s elderly butler glaring at him. “Lord Ericht,” the man said with obvious distaste.
Marc growled at the butler. He was going to need a few minutes alone before he met with Captain Avery. The idea of meeting the army officer in his current state did put a damper on his immediate problem. When he felt he was in a sufficient condition to see the man, he stepped into the hallway and allowed the surly butler to lead him to the Avery study.
Captain Russell Avery stood when Marc entered the room. An imposing man in his regimentals, the captain frowned when he met Marc’s eyes. A thought occurred to him almost immediately—it would have been much easier to seduce Cordelia Avery before this giant of a guard had returned from the battlefields. The lingering effects of the man’s sister immediately evaporated.
Marc strode across the floor and offered his hand. “Captain Avery.”
“Lord Haversham, please have a seat.”
Marc dropped into a seat across from the captain, assessing the officer as he sat back down behind the heavy mahogany desk.
“We each have a duty to our friends, my lord, but after this situation is over we will deal with your attention to my sister. Unless you’d like to meet me or one of my brothers on a similar field of honor, you’ll keep your distance from Cordelia.”
Marc hadn’t imagined they’d start off the conversation with threats, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the man. He was an officer in Wellington’s army, but Marc was a peer of the realm. They weren’t on the same level, not even close. “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain.” Then he slid forward in his chair, leveling the man with his iciest stare. “What do you say we make this quick, sir? I imagine emotions have run high to get His Grace and the major intent on killing the other. I have no idea what precipitated the disagreement, and frankly I don’t care. As I have many other places to be tonight, I propose we make the duel to first blood drawn and call it an evening. What say you?”
The captain’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you think is best, my lord.”
Marc rose from his spot and slapped the desk. “Excellent. See you at dawn on the north side of the park?”
The captain nodded again. “I had no idea this would be handled so efficiently.”
“As I said,” Marc replied, starting for the door, “I do have many other places to be.”
~ 16 ~
When the door to Staveley House was pulled open, Brendan smiled at the ancient butler who stood before him. Most butlers in Mayfair were elderly, but Merton looked as if he’d actually participated in the crusades. How the man had the energy to breathe truly was a mystery.
“This way, my lord,” Merton said, and slowly ambled off down the corridor.
Brendan had no choice but to follow the old man, excruciatingly slow as he was. Finally, the butler stopped before Lord Staveley’s library and pushed the door open. “My lord, the Earl of Clayworth has arrived.”
David Benton, Viscount Staveley, was at the doorway in a heartbeat. His hand extended, Staveley smiled amiably. “Ah, Brendan, good to see you. Come on in.”
The library was not an unusual place to find the viscount. In fact, Staveley spent most of his time in this room, perusing old books and researching something, though what that was Brendan didn’t have a clue. It was one thing Staveley never spoke about.
“I’m certain you’ll be glad to have Caroline back here, now that she’s finished overseeing the refurbishment of my parlor.”
Staveley chuckled and motioned for Brendan to find a spot in one of his leather chairs before taking a seat himself. “She’ll find some other project to occupy her time. In fact, it’ll just be you and me for dinner. She ran out of here not half an hour ago.”
Good heavens, that was odd. Caroline could be tiresome, but she’d never abandoned a dinner guest before, at least not that Brendan knew about. “If you’d rather I come back later, Staveley—”
The viscount shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just a little scatterbrained ever since she got home this afternoon.”
She’d seemed fine when she left his home. “Why? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, she hadn’t heard about the duel until she walked in the door. I’m afraid it put her in a frightful mood.”
“Duel?” He hadn’t heard about it either. He couldn’t imagine who was involved to get Caroline upset. Robert was safely in Dorset, and he believed Luke had returned to Derbyshire.
“Major Moore returned today,” Staveley replied, as if that answered his question.
It did not. He didn’t even know the name. “Major Moore?”
Staveley nodded. “The young man was Olivia’s intended. He arrived in Town this afternoon and went straight to Kelfield House.”
Ah, that did explain everything then. Had Brendan been in Moore’s position, he’d have done the same thing. He chose not to voice that thought, however, as Kelfield was one of Staveley’s oldest friends and now a cousin by marriage. Still, there was nothing even the intrepid Caroline could do about the situation. Then his stomach tightened. “Certainly, Caroline doesn’t think she can stop the event.”
Staveley barked with laughter. “Honestly, Brendan, even my wife isn’t that foolhardy.”
Well, that was a relief. Brendan sat back in his seat, relaxing a bit. “Where did she run off to then?”
“I’m not sure,” Staveley replied, rubbing his chin. “She got some note from Miss Avery and she tore out of here.”
Miss Avery! Brendan’s heart lurched. Was Cordelia in some sort of trouble? “You don’t know where she went?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his panic.
The viscount shrugged. “She didn’t say. I’m sure she’ll tell me when she returns, she always does…well, most of the time.”
Brendan leapt from his seat. “For God’s sake, Staveley! How can you just let her gallivant around Town the way she does?”
“Let her?” the viscount echoed with an amused look on his face. “Have you met my wife? No one lets her do anything, Brendan, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. She wouldn’t be Caroline otherwise.”
That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t even say good-bye to the viscount as he stormed from the library and out of Staveley House. South Audley Street wasn’t that far. If Cordelia was in trouble, he could make it faster on foot than wait for his carriage to be brought around.
***
A smash could be heard coming from the yellow parlor. Cordie winced at the closed door, wondering what Philip had just broken. He had taken the ‘first blood drawn’ stipulation rather badly. Though he was suffering, she couldn’t feel guilty about her actions. Both he and Kelfield might get injured, but they’d live to see another day.
She had hoped Philip would begin to see reason. If she could just have a few minutes with him, he’d see things her way. Unfortunately, he’d holed himself up with Russell, of all people.
“I’d like to run you through with my sword, Avery,” Philip’s voice came through the oak door.
“You do now, Moore. But you’ll see I was right. We just arrived in England. Do you want to be exiled in less than a day? And what if you did ki
ll him? Do you think Olivia would thank you for making her a widow? By all accounts she loves him.”
Philip said something Cordie couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like a growl.
“Cut your losses,” Russell advised. “She’s just a girl, Philip. There are a million others out there. You’re a war hero, for God’s sake, they’ll be lining up to set their caps for you.”
“She’s not just a girl! She was my girl, Russell.”
Cordie closed her eyes. Even if her brother couldn’t feel the pain that rolled off Philip, she could. It was a terrible situation. Truly, he deserved better, and she wished she could help him. Not that she regretted her actions. She’d saved a life, maybe two, and she wouldn’t feel badly about that.
She was concerned about the deal she’d made with the marquess however. He’d had a strange look in his eye when he agreed to her kiss. At the moment she’d been in such a hurry, with Sanders growing impatient on the other side of the door, Cordie hadn’t clarified where he wanted to kiss her. The park again? Or maybe the gardens at Vauxhall? Somehow she wasn’t certain that’s what he meant at all.
This could certainly be a problem. After all, she wanted to marry the man, not be ruined by him.
The dinner chime rang, bringing her back to the present. She glanced quickly at the door that sheltered Philip and Russell, then darted for the dining room. Heaven forbid they find out she was eavesdropping.
Tristan was waiting just inside the dining room, and quickly offered her his arm, one eyebrow raised. “I can’t believe you actually pulled it off,” he whispered. “What did you say to Russell?”
Cordie smiled at him, allowing him to lead her to the table where their mother was already seated. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Until the duel was over, she wasn’t about to talk about the particulars on the off chance something might change.
Tristan winked at her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she said, sliding into her seat. “I’m so glad you’re home, Tris.”
He took the spot next to her. “Please. You haven’t even had time to miss me. Betrothals, jilted naval captains...”
Cordie rolled her eyes. “He never spoke with Gregory. I was never technically betrothed.”
“I was,” Philip Moore remarked from the doorway, with Russell right behind him.
Cordie flushed red. She hadn’t intended to say that. Poor Philip. It would be best for her not to say another word all night.
“Oh, Philip,” her mother trilled, “ignore her. She’s such a foolish girl and doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying.”
Cordie let the insult roll off her. With a little luck, she could bring Haversham up to scratch, then she could avoid her mother until the end of time. Showing her anger wouldn’t further her goals and would only make evading her mother more difficult in the coming days.
Russell and Philip took seats across the table, and Cordie stared down at her empty plate. Philip looked more miserable than anyone she’d ever known.
“Why is Greg holed up in Papplewick?” Tristan asked, ending the awkward silence.
“It is August, Tristan,” Lady Avery replied with a frown. “I can barely drag him to Town for the season.”
Sanders approached the table, confusion etched across his brow. “Lady Avery,” he whispered loud enough for the entire table to hear, “Lord Clayworth is demanding to see Miss Cordelia.”
Cordie’s heart stopped beating. Clayworth was here? To see her? All eyes focused on her and she swallowed nervously.
“What did you do, Cordelia?” her mother asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing, Mother.” Did he have a guilty conscience for not revealing her escape earlier? Was he still trying to keep her out of trouble?
“Show him in, Sanders,” the baroness directed.
A moment later, the Earl of Clayworth burst into the dining room. His eyes were wild and his face flushed. He looked as if he’d been through quite an ordeal, and Cordie couldn’t imagine what would have him so upset. When his eyes landed on her, he took a deep breath and began to rub the lines of worry that marred his handsome brow.
“My lord,” Lady Avery began with a frown, “we were not expecting you.”
Clayworth then glanced around the room, as if now noticing that everyone was gathered at the dining table. “I’m very sorry to intrude.”
Her mother’s face softened to a smile. “Have you dined yet, my lord?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly impose on—”
“Nonsense,” Lady Avery interrupted him, pointing to the open spot next to Cordie. “I insist you stay.”
Clayworth’s eyes flashed to Cordie’s, and she sucked in a breath. His very gaze sent tingles racing across her skin. How could she possibly manage an entire meal beside him?
Tristan stood and gestured to the spot. “I’m certain my sister would prefer your company to hearing more of our tales from the battlefield.”
He didn’t want to stay. It was obvious in how stiffly he stood, but he inclined his head. “Of course. Thank you for your generosity.”
Tristan held his position until Clayworth reached his chair, then he offered his hand in greeting. “Lieutenant Avery. The ugly fellow over there is my brother, Captain Avery, and of course our very good friend Major Moore.”
“Clayworth.”
Tristan’s eyes dropped to Cordie and he smiled. “Yes, I know, my lord.”
He slid into the spot next to her and Cordie chanced a glance at him. “My lord,” she said softly.
His twilight gaze nearly made her melt. “I’m relieved to find you well, Miss Avery,” he replied as a footman quickly set a place in front of him.
Relieved to find her well? What did he expect to find? He’d seen her that very afternoon. How reckless did he think she was that she couldn’t stay out of trouble for a few hours? It wasn’t particularly complimentary. Her ire began to build.
“I understand,” Russell broke in, “that you intend to take Cordelia for a ride along the Bath Road in your phaeton.”
“On the morrow,” Clayworth agreed.
“Is it particularly fast?” Russell asked
Clayworth nodded his head. “I’ve been told so.”
“Of course,” Cordie said to her brother. “Lord Clayworth does everything faster and better than anyone else.”
“Cordie!” Tristan muttered under his breath.
She ignored her brothers and flashed a cheeky smile at the earl. “Or so Lord Astwick has led me to believe.”
***
Brendan raised his brow at the lovely lady at his side. She was clearly annoyed with him, and he couldn’t blame her one bit. What a fool he was! Running through Mayfair on foot, convinced she needed to be rescued, only to find her safely surrounded by her family. Army officers, for God’s sake! Neither Haversham nor Brookfield would get past these men.
He was losing his bloody mind.
He somehow managed to get through dinner, answering question after question about his phaeton and horses. Though he’d be hard pressed to relay the conversation, his attention was focused solely on Cordelia, who was breathtaking even when angry at him.
When dinner came to an end, Lieutenant Avery stood with the women. “I’ll forgo port, gentlemen. It has been too long since I’ve enjoyed female company.”
Brendan rose from his seat as well. “I should be leaving.”
Beside him, Cordelia took a staggered breath, and he couldn’t tell if she was relieved by the fact or bothered by it. He imagined it to be the former, as she’d barely spoken three words over dinner.
“Do stay, Clayworth,” Captain Avery replied. “I’d like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”
Somehow Brendan kept himself from groaning. He could just imagine the warning the captain would give him, not that he could see a way out of the situation, and not that he didn’t deserve it after barging in to their dinner. “Of course.”
Brendan recl
aimed his seat while the others left, even Major Moore. God, this was going to be more painful than he thought. He imagined the captain would quickly ask him to keep his distance from Cordelia. No brother wanted an obsessed fellow calling on his sister. Who knew what such men were capable of?
“I need to ask you a favor, Lord Clayworth.”
Here it was. Stay the bloody hell away from my sister. He steeled himself for the words. “Yes, Captain?”
“I’m afraid I was a bit negligent in my duties this evening. I need to arrange for someone to officiate a duel between the Duke of Kelfield and my friend Major Moore.”
Brendan kept his mouth from dropping open.
“It is something Lord Haversham and I should have agreed upon, but he was in and out so quickly, I’m afraid this detail slipped past me. You are known for your honor, sir, and you would be doing me a great service if you would perform the duties.”
Certainly not what he was expecting. Relief washed over him. He would have agreed to just about anything if that meant he wasn’t barred from Cordelia. Doing Captain Avery a favor was the least he could do. “Of course.”
The captain took a long swallow of his port. “Thank God. I didn’t have the heart to tell Moore I’d flubbed that last bit up. He’s already furious I agreed to first blood drawn.”
“First blood drawn?” Was he joking? That essentially made the duel not even worth fighting. Moore had every right to be furious. Kelfield had stolen the man’s fiancée and the worst he could do was a little nick? “Why would you agree to such a thing?”
The captain’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t know really. It seemed the thing to do. We’ve just returned from France. I’d hate to see my friend exiled. But I couldn’t imagine it would be the first thing out of the marquess’ mouth, and before I could think clearly, I’d already agreed.”
“It was the first thing out of Haversham’s mouth?” That didn’t seem right at all. Kelfield wouldn’t be happy with this turn of events either. No man would willingly agree to first blood drawn, especially when one’s wife was the prize. The duke would want the major dead.