by Ava Stone
~ 34 ~
Cordie smoothed her skirts back in place, hoping that none of her brothers noticed how upset she was. Over the years she’d had lots of practice in disguising her feelings, this was just more of the same. She stepped inside Bayhurst Court’s blue parlor with a fraudulent smile plastered across her face.
Russell and Tristan were involved in some deep conversation, barely noticing her arrival, but Gregory’s brow was furrowed and his green eyes followed her into the room. Cordie swallowed, gathering her strength. “Greg, may I have a word with you?”
She didn’t particularly want to have this conversation in front of Russell and Tristan. It didn’t seem wise to discuss her late mother-in-law’s treasonous activities in front of soldiers who’d recently returned from the front lines, brothers or not. Though Tris would forgive her anything, she’d really rather not put him in that position.
Gregory inclined his head. “Of course.”
He followed her out to the corridor and Cordie wished she knew the layout of her house. “How long have you been here?”
“A few days. Are you all right? Do you want me to take you back to Rufford Hall?”
She shook her head. “Do you have any idea where another parlor is? I’m sadly unfamiliar with my own home.”
“This isn’t your home, Cordie,” he said with a frown as he led her down the corridor into an empty room, done mostly in white. He shut the door behind them. “Did he tell you the truth about these letters he’s after?”
Cordie nodded. “I need you to find them, Greg. Clayworth believes they’re at Rufford Hall for whatever reason. It is imperative.”
“Whatever it is he’s done, you don’t have to stay here. I may not be as well connected as the earl, but—”
She held up her hand, silencing her brother. “He’s my husband, Greg, no matter how we arrived at this point. And as my brother, I need your help. I don’t know why Marina would hide these letters at Rufford Hall, or even where—but retrieving them is most urgent.”
“Why? After all these years?”
Cordie choked back a sob. “He’s been looking for them all this time. If someone gets their hands on them—”
“Then what?” her brother demanded.
“Please keep in mind if anything hurts Clayworth, it will affect me as well. I may never recover from this.”
“That thought has been foremost in my mind, Cordie. Now, tell me what is so damned important.”
“Promise not to tell Russell or Tris,” she whispered.
Greg shrugged. “I promise.”
Cordie leaned in closer to her brother on the off chance someone in the hall could hear them. “Clayworth’s mother was French,” she began quietly, searching Greg’s face for a reaction of any sort. When he nodded for her to continue, she did. “Well, apparently her loyalties always remained with her home country. For years, it seems, she was spying for the French and passing off sensitive information on trips to visit family. I’m not—”
“And Clayworth?” Greg asked with a frown.
“Is innocent,” she defended. “But the letters detail his mother’s traitorous acts. If they’re found out…” Her voice trailed off. What would happen in that event? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. It wouldn’t be good, but—
“He’ll he be sent to the gallows,” Greg finished for her. His face went white. “Dear God, that’s what she had planned,” he whispered just loud enough for Cordie to hear.
She blinked at her brother, not understanding at all what he meant. “Greg?”
He shook his head. “She said she had a plan to leave him so she’d be free.”
“Marina?” she asked quietly.
“I couldn’t imagine what she meant by that. She was the man’s wife. She’d never be free of him. But if she was a widow…”
Prickly chills raced up Cordie’s spine at the thought and she shivered. She didn’t want to envision Brendan in any state except alive. Marina had planned to have him executed? She thought she might be sick, so she dropped into a chair. “That’s awful.”
“She was very unhappy.”
That was not new information. Cordie shook her head. “I have no desire to be a widow, Greg. You need to scour Rufford Hall.”
“You’ll come with me. I don’t want to leave you here with him. The way he went about all of this…”
Her heart ached at the truth of her brother’s words, but she smiled as brightly as she was able. “Despite everything, I’m his wife and I do love him, even if he doesn’t return the sentiment.”
Greg’s face fell. “God, Cordie. I should have been more attentive to you. None of this would have happened if—”
Cordie wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her tightly. “Just help me now, Greg.”
***
Brendan took a relieved breath as the Avery coach finally started down his drive, taking his wife’s mother and all three brothers away from Bayhurst Court. Thank God!
The night before had been one of the most uncomfortable he’d spent in his thirty-five years. Lord Avery glowered at him the entire time. The two officers constantly bickered with each other over one inane reason or another. His mother-in-law pouted non-stop. Rose was oblivious to her surroundings, wearing a look of exuberance, while Thomas quietly kept to himself. All of that was bearable, or would have been if his wife had been able to look him in the eyes. She hadn’t, and his heart still ached.
With her family present, she’d successfully avoided him the entire night, never even retiring to her own room—something Brendan knew for certain as he’d waited there for her until dawn. Thankfully, she appeared on the front lawn to wish her family a safe journey. The sight of her nearly broke his heart. She’d smiled, gushed over her brothers, even wished her mother well—but pain was still reflected in her eyes, and Brendan berated himself over and over for putting it there. He wished he’d done things differently, told her the truth early on. He was at a loss for what to do that would return her to the joyful woman she’d been just days earlier—when it was just them, before the real world consumed them.
The coach rambled down the drive, disappearing from view, and his wife turned back toward the house. Brendan stopped her, with his hand on her arm. “Cordie,” he said quietly.
“Yes, my lord?” she replied, her eyes locked on his cravat.
“Look at me,” he implored.
“I’d rather not.”
Brendan tipped her chin back with his hand, until her green eyes met his. Her anguished expression tore at his heart. “Oh, my darling wife, tell me what I can do to make you forgive me.”
She wiggled out of his grasp. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were protecting your family.” She frowned, then turned her back on him so he couldn’t see her face. “I do wish you’d told me the truth from the beginning. It wasn’t necessary for you to marry me simply to get my assistance with this matter. The letters are yours after all.”
“If you recall, you were not particularly warm towards me in the beginning.” Not that it excused him from telling her the truth on the way to Scotland or even after they said their vows. But the letters had been in the back of his mind most of the time, his thoughts occupied by Cordie every waking hour.
“I suppose you’re right.” She heaved a sigh. “Courting me, making me fall in love with you, was the better plan.” A light summer wind picked up her skirts and she shivered. Brendan stepped forward, but she moved further away, looking towards the path her family had recently departed down.
Brendan hated seeing her so forlorn, and he couldn’t resist touching her any longer. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “I fell in love with you too, Cordie,” he whispered in her ear. “Almost from the beginning. I lost sight of mother’s letters when I saw you chasing after Haversham. I wanted to tear the man apart every time you looked at him.”
“I’ve never chased after anyone.”
For the first time that day, he s
miled. He’d become so accustomed to her contradicting him. It was good to know her spirit wasn’t completely broken. “Of course not,” he agreed amiably. “You’ve left swarms of heartbroken naval captains and wicked marquesses in your wake. I’m very fortunate to have caught you for myself.”
“I don’t find you remotely humorous,” she said quietly.
“Oh, I know.” Brendan chuckled and kissed the spot behind one ear. “If memory serves, you find me stodgy.”
“And old” she grumbled.
“And old. How could I forget?”
Cordie turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes, causing his body to react in a most pleasurable way. “I do wish you wouldn’t be charming. I’m quite put out with you, and plan to stay that way for some time.”
Brendan caressed her back, apologizing with his eyes, pleading for her to see the truth. “I love you, Cordelia Clayworth. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for it. Give me that chance, will you?”
The tiniest of smiles tugged at her lips. “The rest of your days? Is that all?”
“Well, that and my heart and soul,” he vowed before lightly brushing his lips against hers.
He silently rejoiced when she relaxed in his arms and allowed him to deepen the kiss. He tightened his embrace until the soft mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest. She sighed against his mouth, and settled her hands at the base of his neck.
It was the sweetest victory he’d ever enjoyed.
Brendan mingled his tongue with hers, relishing the feel of her lithe body against his, the taste of sweet summer berries, and her light lilac scent. There was nothing more he wanted than to scoop his wife up in his arms, carry her to his room and sink deep inside her. “Dear God, I need you,” he whispered across her lips.
Somehow that was the wrong thing to say.
Cordie pushed lightly against his chest and wriggled out of his embrace, a slight frown marring her pretty face. “I don’t have anything else to give you.”
Brendan stepped towards her, but she backed away, shielding herself from him with an outstretched arm. “I—um—well, I’ve decided to return to London.”
London? But they were going to stay in Derbyshire, at least for a while. Enjoy each other, without the watchful eye of the ton. He was going to show her how much he loved her and do everything in his power to make up for hurting her.
“My friends are there,” she continued matter-of-factly. “My life is there. I’d like to return to what I left behind.”
The distance in her voice made Brendan’s heart drop. “You’re not returning without me,” he told her.
She shrugged, walking towards the house. “I don’t want you to feel you must accompany me. You have many things to attend to here, and I’m certain I can manage on my own.”
She wanted to leave him. She didn’t want to give him the chance to make things right between them. Brendan’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t going back to Town or anywhere else without him. “You are my wife, Cordie.”
“I don’t think I’m in any danger of forgetting that, my lord.”
Before he could respond, she escaped into the house, abandoning him to his vacant front drive.
~ 35 ~
Cordie’s heart pounded as she stomped back inside Bayhurst Court. At least she knew where she was going today. She’d roamed the corridors the night before and now had the layout fresh in her mind. She hadn’t intended to do so, but after Brendan had escape into her room, she hadn’t had much choice. She wasn’t up to seeing him. She still wasn’t.
She made her way to the music room and sat down at the piano, gently running her fingers over the keys. She wasn’t as accomplished as Livvie in this realm, but the music did soothe her a bit.
One would think she’d become accustomed to being alone since she’d been exiled from Livvie, but she hadn’t. And her loneliness had never felt so pronounced as it did now.
Most marriages were arranged to the mutual benefit of both parties, the merging of lands or fortunes or connections. However both participants knew from the beginning what they each brought to the table. They both knew the situation they were getting themselves into. Cordie hadn’t been offered that. She’d been misled from the onset. How could she believe anything he said to her now?
Only a fool would do so.
Cordie had never been a fool. Other than when she believed he loved her. Other than when she’d lost her heart to him. She didn’t intend to make a habit of continuing to be foolish however.
“You play very well,” said a timid voice from behind her.
Cordie looked over her shoulder to find Thomas Reese leaning against the doorway. He bashfully hung his head when their eyes met. Despite the pain in her heart, Cordie couldn’t help but smile at the shy boy. “Thank you. Do you play, Thomas?”
He shook his head, still not looking directly at her. “No. But Uncle Brendan says my mother did.”
“I hear she was very lovely.” What did one say to a child who’d never met his mother?
Thomas shrugged. “You’re not leaving because of me, are you?”
Cordie’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. How did he know she was leaving? Had Brendan already told everyone? So much for his wanting her to stay at Bayhurst Court. “Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”
He winced. “I know I’m not… Well, I’d understand if you didn’t want to live here with me. But I’m supposed to attend Eton this October. Uncle Brendan has other properties he could send me to until then.”
Cordie thought her heart might break, which was something of a feat as she didn’t know there was any of it left. She rose from her bench and started towards the boy. “Thomas Reese, please believe me. This has nothing to do with you.” She touched his shoulder, and his blue eyes pierced her soul.
“I’ve just never seen him happy like he was when you arrived,” the boy explained. “I don’t want to be the reason he’s sad again.”
Cordie brushed a tear from her cheek. She’d been happy when they first arrived too. She desperately wished they could go back to that day. Before she knew what Brendan really wanted from her. When she believed he truly loved her.
Thomas’ eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I—”
“Tom!” Brendan’s voice came from the top of the hallway.
Cordie looked up to find her husband walking their direction and wiped away her remaining tears. She didn’t want him to ever see her cry.
Too late.
His brow furrowed and his pace increased. He was before her in seconds, offering her a handkerchief. “Please.” He turned to his nephew as she blotted her eyes. “Excuse us, will you, Tom?” he asked.
The boy nodded woefully. “I didn’t mean to, uncle.”
Brendan ruffled Thomas’ hair. “I’m certain it wasn’t you. Do go on. I’ll find you soon.”
When Thomas was out of earshot, Brendan grasped Cordie’s elbow and led her back into the music room. “It wasn’t his fault,” she said weakly.
“No. It was my fault.” Brendan drew her into his arms and held her tightly. For a moment, it felt so comforting to be back in his arms. She couldn’t stay there for long, but just a moment or two couldn’t hurt, could it?
He kissed the top of her head. “Cordie, I know you don’t believe me, and I suppose you have every right to doubt me. Would that I could do it differently, I would do everything in my power to keep from hurting you.”
She pulled back to look at him. He did seem sincere. She wanted to believe him.
“I love you with my entire being, and hate that I have done this to you.” His face was drawn up tight, and Cordie hated to see the pained expression in his eyes. Brendan looked away from her. “I’ve thought of nothing else, Cordie, but how to make amends to you. Your happiness is most important to me. If being my wife truly makes you miserable, if you cannot be happy with me, with Bayhurst Court, then I’ll grant you the freedom you’ve so despe
rately wanted.”
Cordie gasped. Did he intend to divorce her? Have their marriage annulled? She couldn’t find her voice. Both prospects were equally horrifying. It just wasn’t done.
He seemed not to notice that she was in utter shock. “Since I first met you, gaining your freedom, doing as you pleased and with whom was all important.” His twilight eyes pierced her. “I can give you that, Cordie. My heart will break if you leave me, but it will break if you remain here. I can’t watch you live in such misery. One of us should be happy.”
“What are you saying?” she whispered, her heart barely beating at all.
Brendan turned away from her, his hands clutched behind his back. “You have my name, the safety that comes with it. If you’re dead set on London, on returning to your friends, and whatever else… Then go. I won’t keep you here, miserable and wretched. I love you too much for that.”
Cordie’s knees threatened to give out. She stumbled against the pianoforte and clasped the edge to keep from falling over. “You’d give me my freedom?” she whispered in disbelief.
He turned back around and rushed to her, ushering her to a small settee. “Isn’t that what you want, Cordie?”
Was it? She blinked at him. Suddenly she wasn’t sure. For so long she’d hated being dictated to, forced to submit to her mother’s will, having no choices of her own. He was offering her the complete freedom she’d craved and struggled to achieve. “You’d let me leave? You’d let me make my own choices?”
He sat beside her and responded with a tight nod. The pain in his eyes was deeper than before and Cordie’s heart constricted even more. “Why?” she whispered.
Brendan took her hands in his. “Because I don’t know how else to show you that I love you. I want you to be happy, Cordie. I had hoped you could be so with me, but if you can’t…”
She threw her arms around his neck. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted to be strong, but she couldn’t help herself. He seemed to hurt as much as she did. The Brendan Reese she’d known would never have given up his claim on her. She’d expected him to fight her every step of the way. He’d told her that he wouldn’t keep her from her friends, but he’d always maintained his right to dictate to her as a husband.