by Ava Stone
The widow heaved a sigh. “This is all my fault.”
Cordie brushed away some tears and stared at the old woman. “I beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t know he knew about them.”
“How do you know about them?”
Lady Astwick continued as though Cordie hadn’t said a word. “When Marina gave them to me, she said it was for safekeeping. She didn’t say Brendan knew of their existence.”
“Marina gave them to you? You’re blackmailing him?” It was hard to believe and didn’t make any sense at all. The dowager seemed to adore Brendan.
“Blackmailing him?” the old woman paled even more. “What are you talking about, Cordelia?”
“Someone sent Brendan a note at your soiree, threatening to expose Lady Clayworth’s past if he didn’t pay a large sum of money.”
“You are Lady Clayworth,” the dowager reminded her.
Cordie choked on a half-laugh. “Only the most recent one. My two predecessors had ugly pasts, not me.”
Lady Astwick frowned. “Why does he think this has something to do with Jacqueline’s letters?”
“He’s been looking for them since before Marina died. She taunted him and said he’d never find them. She said, ‘The lion holds your secrets.’ He thought that mean the Avery crest, that we had the letters. It’s the only reason he courted me in the first place.”
“That was hardly the only reason,” the old woman grumbled. “I’ve never seen a man so besotted. Brendan Reese would have chased after you, letters or no letters.”
Cordie wasn’t certain if that was true or not. It didn’t even matter anymore. Regardless of what brought them together, she had no doubts that Brendan loved her now. And here was Lady Astwick, in possession of the letters. “Brendan isn’t a traitor, my lady. Please return the letters to him.”
The old woman leaned forward in her seat. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Cordelia. I don’t have them any more.”
Cordie’s heart dropped. “Who does? Please tell me.”
“No one does.” Lady Astwick shook her head. “I burned them. All of them, when I realized what they were.”
Cordie gaped at the marchioness. “You burned them?” she echoed.
Lady Astwick frowned at her as though she was the simplest of fools. “I didn’t see any reason to hold on to them. If they fell in the wrong hands Brendan would have been carted off to Newgate. Marina made the fatal flaw of entrusting them to me.” There wasn’t a note of regret in her voice. “She thought that since Walter, my middle son, had died fighting the French that she couldn’t have found a more formidable ally. She was wrong.”
“I don’t understand,” Cordie managed. Brendan himself was convinced Astwick would turn on him when the truth was revealed.
Lady Astwick shrugged slightly. “I was duped by Jacqueline. She always called me a lioness, protecting my cubs from danger. Brendan, I suppose, is one of my cubs. A more noble man you’ll not find. He shouldn’t be punished for his mother’s sins. I was the one who eased Jacqueline’s entry in society. If anyone was to blame for her meeting the right people, it was me.” She shook her head in disgust. “No. I would never let harm come to Brendan, not if I could help it.”
“You burned them?” Cordie repeated, her emotions a jumble, her mind racing. “Are you certain you had them all?”
“I am. Marina was enraged when I refused to return them.”
“Then why is someone trying to blackmail Brendan? And what evidence do they have?”
Lady Astwick blinked at her. “That is a very good question, Cordelia. I, for one, plan to find out. Have you sulked enough in Hampshire? Are you ready to return to your husband and face whatever this is together?”
The idea of seeing Brendan again sent her spirit soaring. Besides, he had to know that whoever was after him didn’t have his mother’s letters as a weapon. What else had the previous Lady Clayworth done? “Yes. I plan to return to London today.”
“Excellent.” The marchioness clapped her hands together. “You can ride with me.”
~ 42 ~
Clayworth
I have grown tired of waiting, and so I have come for you. There is a hack waiting for you out front. If you do not have the funds I’ve requested, all of London will know of Lady Clayworth’s exploits on the morrow.
Brendan stared at the letter in his hand, his heart pounding viciously in his ears. This was the moment he’d been waiting weeks for. And he had to act with precision. Pocketing the letter, he strode to the front parlor and glanced out the window. Sure enough, a hack did wait in front of his steps.
“Higgins!” Brendan bellowed as he returned to his study. Then he opened the safe behind a portrait of his mother and began retrieving stacks of pound notes.
A moment later his butler stood on the threshold and cleared his throat. “My lord?”
“Please bring me my black traveling valise.”
Higgins took in the scene before him, the money on the desk and Brendan’s disheveled state. “Do you think this is wise, sir? Going out with that amount of money on your person?”
Of course it wasn’t, but Brendan didn’t really have a choice. He wasn’t even certain how much his blackmailer actually wanted from him. “The bag will be empty, just for show. I’ll need my greatcoat as well.” Brendan wasn’t a fool. Whoever his blackmailer was could cosh him over the head and abscond with valise, never relinquishing the letters and blackmail Brendan all over again. Thankfully, his overcoat had more than enough space in its interior pockets to stash the stacks of pounds inside.
Higgins still looked dubious, but he rushed to do Brendan’s bidding anyway.
After filling his coat with the money, retrieving a pistol from his desk drawer, and snatching up his empty valise, Brendan exited his home, dashing down his front steps to the awaiting hack. He looked at the driver, who made no attempt to conceal his identity, a usual looking fellow garbed in grey and a shabby hat. “Where are we headed?” he asked the man.
The driver gestured southward. “The bloke said to take ya to the Whitehall stairs fer ya ta catch the ferry.”
The ferry? That didn’t sound appealing at all. Who knew where he’d end up? “You don’t by chance know who this bloke is, do you?”
The driver shook his head. “Nah, ‘e said ya needed a ride is all.”
Well, it was worth a shot to ask the question. Brendan took a deep breath and stepped inside the conveyance. What other choice did he have?
***
“Whitehall stairs to the ferry?” Marc hissed, relaying the information to Caroline Staveley as his coach followed Clayworth’s hack.
“The ferry?” she echoed.
“If I was a wagering fellow…”
“Which you are.”
“Which I am,” he agreed with a smile for his new compatriot. “I’d say Clayworth’s blackmailer is awaiting him at Vauxhall Gardens. That’s what I’d do in any event. The place is teeming with people, plenty of places to hide along the walkways and go undiscovered.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Marc grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Caroline was simply delightful as a partner in, if not crime, the prevention thereof. “Lady Staveley, are you telling me you’ve never engaged in an assignation in the pleasure gardens?”
She sat up a little straighter and met his gaze like a regal queen. “I am a proper lady, Lord Haversham.”
A proper lady who ran around Town and did whatever she wanted, never answering to her husband. A proper lady who was married to a royal bore. “Why, even proper ladies should experience at least one little assignation, my dear.”
“Indeed? And how little are we talking about?” she returned, a playful glint suddenly lit her eyes.
So much for a proper lady. Marc coughed in his fist. “No one has ever called me such a thing, I assure you.”
“Of course not,” she replied. Then Caroline glanced out the coach window, watching Mayfair as it blurred past them. “How
will we follow him in the ferry without detection?”
“I don’t think that will be possible, dear.”
Her eyes flashed back across the coach to him. “It has to be possible, Marcus. We can’t let him face whoever this is without us watching out for him.”
Of course they couldn’t. They hadn’t spent weeks watching Clayworth’s residence to let him go this last bit alone. At the same time, things had become much too dangerous to let Caroline continue on this journey with him. Still, she was certain not to like Marc’s opinion on the matter or the plan he would have to put into effect, so he simply smiled what he hoped was his most reassuring smile. “Do you trust me, Caroline?”
She seemed to consider his question before finally nodding. “Against my better judgment, I suppose I do.”
Most women usually did. “Then don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’ll think of something.”
Just then the carriage slowed to a stop. Marc peered out the window and saw Clayworth descending the Whitehall steps to the Thames landing. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Let me see what he’s doing. I’ll be right back.”
Marc hopped from his coach, shut the door, and quietly slid a metal pin into the lock. Then he rushed to the driver’s box and ordered his man to return Lady Staveley to Lord Clayworth’s residence to await him before bolting toward the steps Clayworth had already descended.
As the coach lurched forward, Caroline pounded on the door, cursing him loudly. He smiled to himself as he reached the river’s edge, the murky water reflecting the moonlight above. Lady Staveley wouldn’t be the first woman to curse him after discovering she’d been duped, but this time it was for the lady’s benefit. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d end up heroic in some fashion, and that would be a travesty, indeed.
Before Marc, Clayworth was just about to step onto a ferry when he heard Caroline’s commotion above them. The earl turned his head toward the sound and caught sight of Marc behind him. Fury lit Clayworth’s his face. “You!” he growled, before hurling himself in Marc’s direction.
Belatedly, as he fended off his one-time rival, Marc realized Clayworth must have mistaken him for the blackmailer in that instant. Perhaps he should have put more thought into his plan, but he hadn’t had a lot of choice in the matter or the timing. “Damn it, Clayworth!” Marc ducked as the earl swung a black valise at his head. “I’m trying to help you. Will you listen to reason, you dolt?”
***
Cordie rushed up the steps to Clayworth House, the dowager Marchioness of Astwick quick on her heels. It felt so good to be home after the ride from Hampshire. She could barely wait to throw her arms around Brendan and tell him his worries were unfounded, at least in as far as his mother’s letters were concerned. Whatever else, they’d face together.
Higgins stood in the threshold. His old eyes bulged slightly at the sight of her. “M-my lady!”
Lady Astwick directed Cordie into the home, the two of them brushing past the elderly servant in their haste. “Tell his lordship that his wife has returned, Higgins,” the dowager ordered in her most commanding tone. “And tell him she awaits him in the green parlor.”
The butler cleared his throat. “B-but, madam…”
Lady Astwick frowned at the old man. “I’ve never heard you stammer so much, Higgins. Now don’t dawdle, bring Clayworth to us at once. We have had a long journey and we are tired.”
But Higgins shook his head. “I—well, I’m not certain where he is, my lady. He went… out.”
“Out?” the dowager barked. “Certainly he told you where he was going. Send a man to retrieve him. Are you deaf?”
But Cordie could tell from Higgins’ panicked expression that he didn’t have the faintest idea where Brendan was. She sighed. After the weeks they’d spent apart, a few more hours wouldn’t kill them. Besides, he’d be back soon, most likely. “We’ll await his lordship in the green parlor, Higgins. When my lord does return, please send him to us.”
“Let me out this instant!” came a woman’s cry from somewhere behind them in the street.
Surprised, Cordie spun on her heel and her mouth dropped open when she recognized the Marquess of Haversham’s coach, now parked right in front of Lady Astwick’s traveling conveyance. “What in heaven’s name?”
The entire coach shook as someone pounded on the door from inside. “Let me out, I say!”
“Is that Caroline Staveley?” The dowager peered around Cordie to get a good look through the open doorway. “In Haversham’s coach?”
Was that Lady Staveley’s voice? As soon as Lady Astwick said so, Cordie knew she was correct. What was she doing with Marc? Was she in some sort of trouble? Cordie dashed down the steps and raced to the carriage, and ran right into a hulking driver who stood sentry in front of the door. “Out of my way or I’ll call the watch!” she commanded.
“I have my orders, my lady,” the man replied, but he shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he did so.
Cordie folded her arms across her chest and glared at the man. “Indeed? A kidnapper, are you? Either move out of my way, or I’ll see you sent to Newgate.”
“But Lord Haversham—”
“Can deal with me,” Cordie finished for him. Then she shoved at his hulking frame to make her point. He moved just enough that she was able to see that a metal pin kept the coach door locked, but he held his position, refusing to move another inch.
“Good heavens!” the dowager grumbled behind her. “What a bunch of nonsense.” Then the old woman poked the driver in the groin with her cane, sending the man cursing as he dropped to the ground like a sack of flour.
Cordie took the opportunity to pull the pin from the lock and open the carriage door.
Caroline Staveley stumbled out, putting a hand to her disasterous coiffure. The viscoutness glared at the driver, still rolling on the ground just a few feet away. “How dare you?”
“Lady Staveley!” Cordie’s hand flew to her chest. “Whatever has happened to you?” Truly she had never seen the woman look so disheveled. The viscountess had always been the picture of calm perfection.
At that moment, Lady Staveley glanced around at the scene before her—the moaning coachman, the dowager marchioness still threatening the man with her cane, and Cordie—as though suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone. The viscountess stood her tallest, pushed back a fallen lock of her hair, and flashed her most charming smile at the two ladies. “Thank heavens you’re home. We must get to Vauxhall right away.”
“Vauxhall?” Cordie echoed. Had Lady Staveley gone mad during Cordie’s sojourn to Hampshire.
“As fast as we can.” The viscountess nodded her head vigorously. “Brendan’s in trouble.”
~ 43 ~
Brendan dropped his valise and clutched Haversham’s jacket with both hands. “Are you following me?” he hissed.
Haversham surprised him by nodding. “Aye. I’ve been watching your home for weeks now. Waiting for you to finally get contacted by this son a bitch.”
Brendan’s mouth fell open and he released his grasp on the blackguard’s jacket. “I beg your pardon?”
Haversham sighed, stood tall and smoothed his hands over the front of his jacket to remove the fresh wrinkles. “Caroline and I discovered your notes that day we ended up in your study.”
Good God! Haversham had seen his blackmail notes?
“You got another one, didn’t you?” the marquess pressed. “You are headed to meet whoever is threatening Cordie?”
Threatening Cordie? Hearing his wife’s name on Haversham’s lips made Brendan’s jaw tighten. But he had to respond to the bastard. Why did he think the blackmailer was threatening Cordie? Because the notes simply said Lady Clayworth. Haversham hadn’t put anything else together, thank God. Brendan breathed a slight sigh of relief. “I can handle this on my own.”
“I’m sure you can. But you’re not going to.” Haversham nodded toward the ferryman. “Besides, no one will ever think we’re working together. Our distaste for each o
ther is well established.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Well, you have it nevertheless. So stop wasting time and tell me what you know or what you suspect.” Haversham stepped onto the ferry and said to the boatman, “You are to take us to Vauxhall, are you not?”
The ferryman blinked. “The man said there’d only be one o’ ya.”
Haversham tossed the man a satchel of coins. “Well, there are two of us, but no one else needs to know that, do they?”
The ferryman grinned a toothless smile. “No, sir. Yer secret’s safe wi’ me.”
Haversham took a seat on the ferry and patted the spot beside him. “Come along, Clayworth. We don’t have long.”
Brendan snorted as he stepped onto the ferry. He wasn’t quite certain how Haversham had appropriated this affair with the blackmailer, and he wasn’t quite certain he even wanted the man’s assistance. He certainly didn’t want the blackguard to learn about his mother’s letters, which meant he was going to have to be extra vigilant as they met with the villain, but Haversham was correct in that no one would ever believe the two of them would ever work together. “Why are you so dead-set on helping me?”
The marquess shrugged as the ferry started down the Thames. “Because I would never see Cordie hurt if I could help it, even if that means working with you.”
“Well, I suppose that makes two of us then.” Brendan finally took the spot beside Haversham. “How did you know we were headed for Vauxhall?”
“It made sense. A number of places to hide, the ability to blend into a large crowd. The bastard could wear a mask and no one would think anything of it.”
Perhaps having Haversham along was a blessing in disguise. Brendan’s mind just didn’t work the same fiendish way. “He could be watching the ferry, you know? If he sees you here as well, he could get suspicious.”
“He won’t see me,” the marquess promised. “I’ve a talent for getting into and out of places without anyone being the wiser.”