Scandalous by Night

by Barbara Pierce

  He shrugged. “How did you view them?”

  “Warnings,” Maura said, hugging herself as if there were a chill in the air. “A taunt; daring me to tell Lord Worrington that you had not forgotten or forgiven any of us.”

  The young lady beside him was very perceptive. The gifts he had selected were chosen to rattle her composure, and perhaps, send her running from the safety of his father’s house. His plan had worked perfectly. After all, instead of sitting in the garden with her nose buried in a book, Maura Keighly had rushed straight to him.

  “I presume you did not tell my father of our meeting?” His question was merely a formality. Everod knew she had not.

  Maura made a disgruntled sound. “No. The earl thinks I have a mysterious admirer.”

  Everod tipped his head back and laughed aloud. “A love-smitten beau for Miss Keighly! How rich!”

  She blushed a vivid pink hue. “Oh, you think me so plain that no gentleman would have me?” she demanded, her voice rising with her agitation.

  He had pricked her feminine pride. A lady in a high temper was unpredictable at best. Everod noted that even his coachman was shaking his head at his lord’s obvious blunder.

  “You have misunderstood me. It was my father’s assumption that amused me, Maura. You are a lovely girl,” he added, wincing at the banality of his words.

  Maura was not appeased. In truth, she was rather pretty when she was on the verge of committing murder. “See here, Lord Everod. I am not a child! I outgrew braids and the desire to climb trees in my bare feet many years ago.”

  Ah, he had wondered if Maura had recalled those first few months when she had joined her newly married aunt at Worrington Hall. She had raced with him and Rowan across the pastures, gorged on wild berries, and cooled her feet in the stream while the brothers had tried to impress her with their fishing skills.

  Everod had been the one who had taught her how to climb a tree. Lord and Lady Courtwill had deemed such frivolous antics to be beneath their only child. He had enjoyed sharing his private world with his new “cousin” until he had been caught in Georgette’s silken snare of temptation and lust.

  “I see you, Maura Keighly,” he said quietly, in stark contrast to her bluster and passion. “I no longer see the child that you were. Except …” He stroked the underside of her chin. “Here. And your eyes. A hint of innocence is bewitching in a lady. Is it genuine or has Georgette ruined you, too?”

  His question extinguished the vulnerability he found so attractive. He was a jaded rake, and there was no place in his world for innocence. Fragile and rarely valued, it was a quality that never lasted. Everod allowed his hand to fall away from her face.

  Maura cleared her throat. “We have drifted from the purpose that has brought us here.”

  “Your displeasure over my gifts?”

  She did not react to his taunt. Instead, she opened her drawstring reticule and slipped her hand into the interior. When she withdrew her hand, her fingers were firmly wrapped around the silver page turner. The point was level with his gut.

  Expressionless, Everod eyed the blade. “Are you contemplating murder, Maura?”

  The denial flickered in her eyes before she could form a suitable retort to his outrageous question. “I know you must hate me, but how could you possibly believe that I would—”

  “Hate you?” he echoed, his brows lifted as he mentally weighed her accusation. “Why would I dwell on hate when there are more appealing passions to explore with a beautiful lady?”

  Her lips formed a soundless O. Recalling her task, she presented the page turner to him point down. Once he had accepted her offering, she continued to dig in her reticule. A moment later, the scent bottle was laid carefully on top of the page turner. Before he could protest, she had retrieved the cameo brooch. “Forgive me for not bringing Mrs. Radcliffe’s tomes. They would not fit in my reticule, and I did not want anyone—”

  “Maura.”

  From her expression and the stiffness of her posture, she had prepared a speech for him in advance. Switching the glass scent bottle to his other hand, he tucked the silver page turner in one of the inner pockets of his frock coat. At a loss for what to do with the scent bottle, he wrapped it in his handkerchief and it also disappeared within the confines of his coat. He sat back and decided to hear her out.

  “I want to compliment you on your fine taste, my lord. The gifts you selected were innocuous to the casual observer, and yet each one had the desired reaction you anticipated,” she said, pausing as she drew in a ragged breath. The tears he had thought banished filled her eyes, heightening her air of misery.

  Everod shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “Maura.”

  She held up a hand. “Pray, let me finish. I did not reveal to your father or my aunt your calculated approach, because I had deduced that it was exactly what you wanted me to do.” Realizing that she was still holding the brooch, she placed in his palm.

  “I never had the chance to speak to you after …” She gulped more air, making him wonder if she was prone to fainting. “After.” Maura could not seem to say the words, and Everod was not going to make it easy for her.

  Getting control over her volatile emotions, she continued, “If we had encountered each other the next day, week, or month, I would have told you how much I regretted my part in your banishment. If I had known your father would have attacked his own son in such a violent manner, I never would have—”

  Her hesitant, tearful apology angered him beyond reason. “Have done what, Maura? Followed me and your aunt into the gardens and spied on us, watching me as I pushed Georgette’s skirts above her waist and shoved my co—”

  “Enough!” she yelled, squeezing her eyes shut as if to block the memory of that afternoon.

  Everod almost reached for her. She looked so fragile and partially broken when he had yet to begin the torment he had planned for her.

  Before he could move, Maura opened her eyes. “I am not asking for your forgiveness for my part that day. It would be a fruitless exercise, because I do not think you are capable of it.”

  He smiled at her insult. “Maura, my sweet, you will have to do better to puncture my composure. Kittens have sharper claws than you.”

  Maura tugged on the strings of her reticule. “I have no intention of challenging you, my lord. You are harder, crueler, and stronger than I could ever hope to become.”

  “Why, thank you, m’dear!”

  “I did not mean it as a compliment,” she snapped, some of her earlier bravado returning. “You delivered a message to me, and I decided to return the favor.”

  “And what message would that be, Maura?”

  “Find another pawn, Lord Everod. Twelve years ago, I was an unwilling player in a deep game of intrigue I was too young to comprehend. My ignorance cost you your family, and I have to live with that fact for the rest of my life.”

  “You’re getting awfully close to that apology you vowed never to offer,” he teased.

  “Coachman, stop the carriage!” she ordered harshly, reminding him nauseatingly of her aunt.

  He calmly told the servant to ignore her command.

  Furious at being outmaneuvered, she yelled, “And you, Lord Everod can go straight to perdition!

  “Insults will not provoke me into dumping your sweet arse onto the filthy streets without a protector, even if you do deserve it,” he said, his indulgence toward her temper waning.

  “This was a pointless endeavor,” she muttered. “I want to return to the bookseller’s shop.”

  Everod nodded to the coachman. “You heard Miss Keighly, Sam. Turn us about.”

  Their self-imposed silence was not broken until the coachman shouted for the team to halt. The moment it was safe to do so, Maura climbed over Everod’s legs, intending to descend the carriage without anyone’s assistance.

  “Ho!” Everod said, catching Maura by the waist and steadying her before she tumbled headfirst out of the carriage. “Everyone watching your hasty esca
pe from my carriage will think I plucked your virtue in front of all and sundry.”

  “As one of the most notorious members of les sauvages nobles, you have most certainly refused few dares,” Maura said tightly. “Now let me go.”

  So the gossips had already filled her head with cautionary tales about him and his friends. Or had Georgette been telling lies about him to keep her niece away from Worrington’s evil, lecherous heir? Her derision set off his temper faster than a bolt of lightning.

  “Indeed, it is a fine day for a walk,” the coachman cheerfully remarked to no one in particular. Extremely diligent in protecting Lord Everod’s privacy, he had noticed that the arguing couple had drawn a few curious spectators. He offered the pedestrians a benign smile as he waited for Miss Keighly to descend. The servant was confident his lord would not detain the lady in front of witnesses.

  Everod grabbed her elbow, before she could escape. He jerked her closer so his lips brushed her ear. “The tales you’ve heard about me are only the ones that can be told in polite company. Trust me, I have done worse. I’m a scoundrel, a notorious rake, Maura, and you have whetted my base appetites. Run, little girl. I love a good chase.”

  Shaken, Maura gladly accepted his coachman’s hand, and descended the carriage. She headed for the open doorway of the bookseller’s shop. To his disappointment, she did not glance back.

  Chapter Seven

  “I hear you have taken to terrorizing young virgins on the streets,” Xavier, the proprietor of Moirai’s Lust said to Everod later that evening when he and Cadd had eschewed an evening of crowded ballrooms and tepid lemonade for the civility of the gambling hell.

  “Vile rumors,” he replied, eyeing his cards. “I prefer wilder prey.”

  Cadd gestured for the blond giant who had the build of a blacksmith to join them, but the man politely refused with quick shake of his head.

  “Speaking of untamed, where is your delightful partner this evening?” Everod asked, thinking of his past encounters with the flirtatious but unattainable brunette who helped Xavier turn a well-deserved profit. If his luck with cards this evening was any indication, he would not be retiring to his bed alone.

  “Out of reach,” the proprietor said, bracing his fist on the table. It was impossible to miss the ripple of muscle as he stretched the seams of his elegant black coat. “Go apologize to your virgin, Everod.”

  His warning delivered, Xavier lifted his head and caught sight of a quarrel brewing across the room. On a muttered oath, he charged across the room prepared to use his fists if his noble patrons could not behave in his establishment.

  “I would reconsider,” Cadd said, his attention no longer on the cards.

  “Reconsider what?” Everod tossed his cards facedown in disgust and reached for the bottle of wine between them.

  Cadd gathered up both their cards. “Fighting Xavier.”

  “You do not think it would be a fair match?” Quietly, Everod simmered. What a fine friend Cadd was to assume Everod could not crack that blond giant’s head!

  “Physically I think you are a good match. However, he has something in his favor that you do not.” Cadd gestured at the cards, but Everod was not in the mood to play anymore.

  “And what is that?”

  The marquess set aside the cards, and clasped his hands together. “Xavier views Moirai as his, even if she refuses to acknowledge his claim. That man will kill anyone foolish enough to touch her. Besides, you are not really interested in her.”

  Feeling peevish, Everod glared at his friend. “Who says I’m not?”

  “I do.” Cadd took the bottle from Everod and refilled his own glass. “If you were interested in tumbling Xavier’s woman, you would have done so months ago. I recognize that look in your eye.” He shook his finger knowingly at him. “You want a fight more than a woman.”

  “Shut your bone box!” Everod sneered, refusing to admit that Cadd had understood what his friend had wanted better than he had all evening. “You must be already foxed to be spouting such nonsense.”

  “Who is the virgin?” At Everod’s sudden stillness, Cadd made a placating gesture with his hands. “I assume there is a woman. Xavier’s sources are usually quite accurate.”

  “Maura—Miss Maura Keighly,” Everod said, scrubbing his face. His exchange with the prickly young woman had plagued him the rest of the afternoon until he had sought out his friend. “She is Lady Worrington’s niece, and is presently residing at their town house.”

  The marquess whistled soundlessly at his revelation. “What haven’t you told me?”

  Everod shrugged dispassionately. “She was part of what happened twelve years ago.”

  Cadd seized Everod’s wrist before he could touch his glass. “Look. You have never been one to back away from a fight. However, as one of your closest friends, I am asking you to stay away from the Worringtons and Miss Keighly.”

  The solemn request was so uncharacteristic of the marquess that Everod was speechless. They had spent years taunting each other into wagers that might have cost them their lives. They had acted as each other’s seconds in duels, and fought side by side in tavern brawls. Cadd was the last person he expected to tell him to back away from a fight. Laughing, he shook off the man’s hold on his wrist. “You jest.”

  “Actually, I’m not. Unless you are prepared to apologize to your father—”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then I see no reason for you to provoke a confrontation,” Cadd said in such a reasonable tone that Everod was tempted to punch him for it. “And what of Miss Keighly?”

  “She is no one’s business but my own.”

  “Now you sound like Xavier. She must have been a child twelve years ago.”

  “Is there a point to this lecture?”

  “My point is, Miss Keighly is not responsible for you getting your throat cut twelve years ago. You did that very nicely on your own when you fucked your father’s wife,” Cadd said bluntly.

  “Christ, Cadd! Lower your voice,” Everod hissed. “Why not spare your voice and post it in the papers.”

  “I understand your pain, my friend. You crave revenge for Lady Worrington’s treachery, and she has been unattainable. The niece, however, is another matter. Are you any better than your stepmother if you take your revenge on an innocent young woman?”

  Everod had heard enough. Rising, he leaned against the edge of the table as he stared down at his friend. Cadd held Everod’s gaze, refusing to back down. “We all lost our innocence that afternoon, Cadd. Stay out of my way when it comes to my family and Miss Keighly. I’m not selective these days about who is feeling the impact of my fist or facing the wrong end of my pistol.”

  “You wanted to see me, Aunt Georgette?” Maura asked, lingering at the threshold of her uncle’s library.

  Georgette was watching the jobbers as they maintained the immaculate gardens below. Her rigid posture and her hands fisted at her sides revealed that Maura’s futile attempt not to be drawn into her aunt’s private war with her stepson had failed. Someone had been whispering in Georgette’s ear.

  “Yesterday, you never mentioned seeing Everod.”

  Her aunt had yet to turn around and greet her. The absence of warmth and recognition hinted at the depth of her ire. Maura stepped into the large room and shut the door.

  “What did you hear?”

  Georgette slowly faced her. Adorned in white and her light blond hair piled artfully on top of her head, her aunt looked like a vengeful goddess. “More to the point, dearest niece, why did I not hear the news about my notorious stepson from you?”

  Shame heated Maura’s cheeks for her deliberate omission. Guilt, duty, and loyalty swirled in her stomach until it bubbled up into her throat and choked her. “It is not a secret that Lord Everod spends much of his time in London. You and Uncle both knew this, and still you chose to travel to town for the social season. Did you really believe you could mingle with the ton, among his friends, and not encounter him? A confrontation was i
nevitable.”

  “I am not a fool, Maura,” her aunt said, seething. “Of course a confrontation was inevitable. Everod is not a coward. However, any contact was to occur on my terms! I was to choose the manner and the setting. Me! Not some silly fumbling twit of a girl who likely piddled on her petticoats the moment he approached her!”

  Was that how Georgette saw her?

  Her aunt’s rage and barbed insults stung Maura like an unexpected ice storm. Wrapping her arms in a comforting gesture, she tried to make the older woman see reason. “No harm was done, Aunt. It was a simple, brief conversation—”

  Georgette struck Maura across the face.

  “Do not ever try to lie to me again!” Her eyes were narrow slits as she pointed an accusing finger at her niece. “There were witnesses, Maura. You were seen scrambling out of his carriage like a frightened grouse. That means you spoke to him at the shop, long enough for him to coax you into his carriage where a more private discourse occurred away from prying eyes. If you possess the intelligence your parents are always claiming, then you will repeat your conversation with him word for word.”

  Maura staggered backward. No one, not even her parents, had ever laid an abusive hand on her. Horrified, she covered her throbbing cheek with her trembling hand. There was only one other incident that had provoked her aunt to hurt her. It was the day Maura was forced to tell Lord Worrington that his elder son had violated his new stepmother.

  “You try my patience, Maura.”

  With hurt gleaming like moonlight, Maura turned away. She needed distance from her aunt; time to choose her words carefully. “Did you consider that I might have been attempting to protect you, Aunt? After all, you claimed twelve years ago that Lord Everod attacked you. Since that day, his name has never been uttered in my presence. Is it so outlandish to believe that I would not want to upset you again by reminding you of the terrifying incident?”