Scandalous by Night

by Barbara Pierce

  “Honestly,” he said, holding his friend’s unwavering gaze, “I don’t know. Whatever I had hoped to gain, it wasn’t there.”

  What Everod did not admit to his friends were his reasons for approaching the Lidsaws. He knew what had spurred him to enter the Worringtons’ private box. It was Rowan. His friends would laugh at his hypocrisy, but he did not like the carnal awareness in his brother’s eyes when they settled on Maura. In a sudden flash, he knew his brother intended to bed her. The unpalatable thought sent Everod down the corridor with the intention of breaking his brother in half.

  Watching Maura as she tried to soothe and restrain Rowan, the way she touched his brother’s arm with familiarity, had ignited his temper, and he had struck out at her, too. She should have been approaching him. It was his temper she should crave to appease, not Rowan’s.

  I must be bloody mad.

  Loathing. Pain. Loneliness. Need.

  A seething hurricane was swirling inside him, and at the center he saw Maura Keighly staring at him with her wary sea-gray eyes.

  Everod wanted something from her. He had too much pride to ask. When he figured out what he wanted, he was likely to just take it from her, uncaring of the price both of them would pay.

  In the end, he would hurt her.

  It was inevitable.

  “Is that you, Maura?”

  Maura froze. Muted light bathed her face as her uncle opened the library door and stood at the threshold with a branch of candles in his hand. “Uncle, I thought you had retired with Aunt Georgette?”

  “I could not sleep,” was his tired reply.

  Maura sighed. “Neither could I.”

  She remained silent on the reasons that had sent her scurrying out of her bedchamber, when she longed for the oblivion of sleep.

  All three of them.

  On her dressing table lay the brooch, the bottle of scent, and the silver page turner she had returned to Everod. She had seen him stuff the items in his frock coat, and yet there they were in her private rooms. It was another message. The man was reminding her he could breach the Worrington walls anytime he wanted to reach her. There was no place she could run and hide from him.

  “Step inside, Niece,” the earl said gruffly. “I know what cures restlessness.”

  Maura stepped into the library, noting the room was dark except for the lively flames flickering in the fireplace and the branch of candles in her uncle’s hand. She watched as he set the silver candelabra on the low table in front of her, and moved to pour her a glass of what he had been drinking before her interruption.

  Pinching the delicate base, Worrington offered her the glass. “Golden cordial,” he said, though the coloring of the liqueur had a reddish cast to it. “Created from one of my grandmother’s recipes. The old dear was rather clever when it came to potions. Very much like your aunt.”

  Maura was intimately acquainted with her aunt’s medicinal potions. The countess had a midwife’s cleverness when it came to creating herbal tinctures that were meant to instill vigor in the weak, cure headaches, or a stomach ail. Throughout her life, Aunt Georgette had insisted on keeping extensive gardens as she honed her skills. There were very few members of the household staff that had not imbibed one of their mistress’s concoctions.

  She smiled tentatively at the earl. “Thank you, Uncle,” Maura said, taking a sip from the glass. It was sweet with a hint of orange flavoring. “It is very good.”

  The earl acknowledged her compliment with a nod. He froze as something about Maura caught his attention, his smile fading in puzzlement. He peered closely at her. “That necklace. I haven’t seen—Where the devil did you get it?”

  The man recognized the piece. Maura nervously fingered the ornate silver pendant of beads and set pearls, suddenly aware her aunt had not told Lord Worrington that she had given one of the old family pieces away.

  “Aunt Georgette gave it to me. The pearls did not suit her, and she assured me that you would not mind,” she explained. Releasing the pendant, she shifted in her seat and leaned forward to set her cordial on the small round table positioned near her chair. “I can give it back to you—”

  The earl shackled both wrists to prevent her from removing the necklace. “No, don’t bother.” He released her when she had complied. Absently, he lifted the pendant and brushed his thumb across the ornate surface.

  “It was a surprise to see the piece, you see,” her uncle confessed. “No one has worn it in decades. In truth, I had forgotten its existence until I saw it gleaming in the firelight. Did you know, the necklace was part of a suite? There were earrings, a bracelet, and a ring, if I recall. Did Georgette give them to you?”

  Maura shifted, uncomfortable that he had yet to release the pendant. “No, Uncle. I doubt Aunt Georgette was aware that there were other pieces. Perhaps they have been lost?”

  “Lost. Yes.” Worrington did not seem angry that his wife had given away an old trinket. However, he seemed to grow melancholy as he stared at the pendant.

  He finally allowed the pendant to slip from his fingers. His movements slow and tired, he hobbled to the sofa where his glass of cordial awaited. In a movement uncharacteristically informal for the earl, he leaned against the cushions and stretched out his long limbs.

  Maura quietly sipped her cordial, silently debating if she should pursue the subject of the pendant. It was preferable to discussing Everod’s brief, hostile appearance in the private box.

  “I have not thanked you properly for the necklace, Uncle,” she said, enjoying the warmth the cordial was creating within her. “If I may inquire, who was the original owner of the necklace?”

  Worrington did not immediately react to her question. Staring at the fire through his cordial glass, he seemed lost in his private thoughts. Maura was on the verge of repeating the question when he said, “I purchased the jewelry suite for my first countess, Everod’s mother. Pearls were her favorite. She loved the simplicity of them, you see.”

  Maura glanced at the pendant. She stroked the large center pearl as she recalled Everod’s expression. Like his father, he had recognized the pendant as belonging to his mother.

  Perhaps he thinks I stole it?

  She frowned at the unpleasant thought. Everod had seemed so angry this evening. She had noticed how his jaw had tightened when he glanced in her direction, but she had not connected his ire to the pendant Georgette would have melted down if Maura had not taken it.

  “Aunt Georgette did not know the history of the necklace when she gave it to me,” Maura said, feeling heartsick that she had given Everod another reason to despise her.

  Her uncle chuckled. “Georgette cares little about history. The piece is too simple, too old-fashioned for her.” He turned his head to face her. “However, the necklace suits you, Niece. Everod’s mother would have been pleased to see you wear it, though it might be best if you do not mention to your aunt who the original owner of the necklace was.”

  Maura concurred. Her aunt was possessive, and preferred to forget that the earl had married three times before he pledged himself to her. “She would not be pleased.”

  “Indeed.”

  If Georgette learned that Worrington had bought the necklace for Everod’s mother, she might insist that the trinket be destroyed.

  Chapter Nine

  Both her aunt and uncle had failed to appear in the breakfast room the next morning. Maura was relieved. She had come to a decision before she had succumbed to Worrington’s fine cordial last evening, and if her aunt learned of Maura’s plans, the lady would be furious.

  She waited until late morning before she took action. It was still much too early for the quality to be out, but this, too, suited Maura. Used to family and servants ignoring her, she told Abbot that she was off to attend a scientific lecture at the British Museum. Her parents were known for their eccentricities. The butler did not consider it odd that their only daughter had developed the same passion for intellectual pursuits.

  Once the coachman h
ad delivered her to Great Russell Street, Maura hired a hackney to take her the rest of her journey.

  Everod’s town house.

  It was risky to confront the viscount, especially after the nasty confrontation with his family. However, Maura had no intention of boldly knocking on the gentleman’s door and demanding to see Lord Everod.

  She planned to remain long enough to deliver the item that was rightfully the viscount’s to his manservant, and then she would return to the museum.

  No one would ever know she ventured anywhere near the beast’s lair.

  Everod was dressing for a morning ride, when he heard his manservant open the front door. Curious about his morning caller, he donned his coat and headed for the stairs.

  “Who was it?” Everod called down,as he watched his man, Dunley, close the door.

  “A delivery, my lord.”

  He stifled an unexpected surge of disappointment. “I hope you set the gent straight that all deliveries are made in the back.”

  “Aye, m’lord. This one was of a personal nature.” Dunley held up a small leather case. “The coachman said the lady would not leave her card. However, she insisted that you would understand.”

  Maura.

  “Order the driver to halt!” Everod shouted, and the manservant turned to carry out his lord’s command.

  So Maura had come to him. He rushed down the stairs and leaped the last four steps. It had taken several well-placed bribes to return his gifts while the Worringtons were out for the evening. After the angry exchange at the theater, he marveled at the young lady’s courage.

  Dunley had succeeded in stopping the coach not far from his residence. The two men were arguing, and Everod could hear Maura’s soft voice as she pleaded for the coachman to drive on.

  Everod opened the door of the coach. Maura groaned when she saw him. “Good morning, Miss Keighly,” he said, slightly out of breath. “A bit early for calls, is it not?”

  Vexed, Maura glared at him. “I am not calling on you, Lord Everod. I did not even leave a card! If you will call off your man, I will be on my way.”

  “Dunley, give me the case,” he ordered the manservant. He grinned at Maura. “Since you are here, you might as well come in. Cook will make you some tea.”

  “No, thank you.” She bit out each word. “I have other plans. Besides, it would be unseemly.”

  “Not really, miss,” Dunley cheerfully interjected. “His lordship is having ladies at all hours.”

  “That will be enough, Dunley.” Everod silenced the manservant with a narrowed glance. Maura was already skittish of him. If there had been any chance of convincing her to sit in his drawing room, Dunley had ruined it with his loose tongue.

  “I never intended to stay, my lord,” Maura said, wringing her hands. “This is truly awkward. I just wanted to return what belonged to you.”

  He was swiftly losing his temper. “If I wanted my damn gifts back, why would I go to such effort to have them discreetly returned to your bedchamber?”

  “Gifts?” Maura moistened her lips with her tongue. “Did you bother to open the case, Lord Everod?”

  He hadn’t. All he wanted to do was throw the leather case into the street. It was obvious he had upset her again, but he was getting bloody tired of having his gifts tossed back in his face.

  Everod opened the case and paused. His mother’s necklace was coiled within the box. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I thought it was time for me to return the favor and give you a gift. I adore the necklace but I have no right to keep it,” she explained, gazing sadly at the box. “I did not even know the necklace belonged to your mother until the earl commented on it.”

  “Worrington told you.” After so many wives, it was amazing that his father even recalled his first countess.

  “Once I knew the truth, I could not in good conscience wear it.” Maura gestured at the necklace. “You walked away from Worrington Hall with nothing. It isn’t much, but I thought you would like to have something of hers.”

  Everod brushed his thumb over the largest pearl. “Are you attempting to bribe me, Maura?”

  Maura huffed in outrage, and leaned back with her arms crossed in front of her. “Me? I would not dare, my lord. I know the only thing that will satisfy you is my blood on your hands. Forgive me, but I am not inclined to accommodate you this morning. If you would step away, I will not bother you again.”

  Everod hid his grin as he shut the case. Like him, Maura did not care to have her gifts rebuffed. “Come inside. I will thank you properly for your generous gift.”

  His manservant snorted. Everod would have kicked the man if he had been closer.

  “No,” she said simply.

  Everod had had enough of her haughty demeanor. “Fine. Then I’ll join you,” he said, climbing into the coach’s interior.

  “You cannot do this!” she sputtered as he settled in beside her.

  “Drive on,” Everod ordered the coachman. To her, he asked, “Where are we heading?”

  Flabbergasted, Maura gaped at his high-handedness. “The British Museum. I told Abbot I was attending a lecture there.”

  “Who’s Abbot?”

  “The family’s butler,” she replied, probably wondering how she was going to get rid of Everod. “See here, you cannot remain here. We might be seen!”

  “How dreadful,” he said, feigning dismay. “What will Georgette say?”

  “It’s what she will do to me, if she learns of our meeting!” Maura yelled, unsettled by what she viewed as his unreasonableness.

  Curious, Everod cocked his head. “What would dear Aunt Georgette do to you?” He thought of their argument in front of the bookseller’s shop. “More importantly, what did she do?”

  Wordlessly, Maura turned away to gaze out the window. Everod stared hard at her profile. Frowning, he leaned closer, noting that clumsy stroke of powder on her cheekbone. Maura had not worn cosmetics during their previous encounters.

  “Christ, she hit you!” Everod cursed Georgette for preying on her niece. The spiteful bitch thought her position as Worrington’s countess protected her from all retribution. He was sorely tempted to shatter her arrogant illusion.

  Frightened by his demeanor, Maura said, “No. She did not—”

  “Still lying for her, I see,” Everod said, ruthlessly cutting over her denial. He did not bother to quell his disappointment in her. Maybe he had underestimated her, after all. “Tell me, Maura, did you seek me out for yourself, or are you spying on her behalf?”

  “No, you stubborn ingrate!” she shouted, sticking her nose in his face. “I brought you the necklace because I wanted you to have something of your mother’s. Georgette, had she known the identity of the original owner, would have crushed the pearls with her heel and melted the silver into a thimble!”

  Everod placed his finger on her trembling lips to silence her. Surprising both of them, he lowered his head and kissed her. He kept the contact light and undemanding. Maura did not react. Wide-eyed, she stared at him like a startled virgin. The jostling motion of the coach bumped her against him, grinding her lips against his.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, trailing his lips to kiss the rosy spot where Georgette had slapped Maura for consorting with the man she perceived as the enemy.

  Georgette was correct.

  He was her enemy.

  What Maura was to him was—well, that was more complicated.

  With a soft sigh, he withdrew and leaned back.

  Maura’s sea-gray eyes were troubled as she glared at him. “It won’t work.”

  Everod shifted his leg. The subtle swell of his cock contradicted her words. “Do you really want to challenge me, Maura?”

  “Gifts … a kiss and a little sympathy,” she said, becoming angrier as she puzzled out his actions. “I know what you are about, Lord Everod. You think to seduce me?”

  “Was that what I was doing?” he drawled lazily. “I must confess thinking is rarely involved when I put my ha
nds on a lady.” Maura’s lower lip pouted so sweetly, Everod was tempted to bite it. When it came to seduction, he rarely played, but was earnest in his intent. “Shall I prove it?”

  “Ah, yes. Les sauvages nobles. You might be surprised to know that your exploits have reached even Worrington Hall,” she said, as if she knew everything about him, and condemning him with a few rumors.

  Although the stories she had heard were likely true, he did not like being so casually dismissed. “So Georgette was worried that I might return one day,” he mused.

  “Georgette fears no man,” she said smugly. Her loyalty for her aunt made Everod want to throttle Maura until her teeth rattled. “I am not certain, but I think your father hired a man to look into your affairs.”

  “It must have taken the poor man years to write down all the salacious details.” If Everod had been secretly waiting for an olive branch from his father, he had waited in vain. “Did Father read the notes aloud to his countess while they were in bed together?”

  Maura chastised him with her eyes. “You hurt him, Lord Everod.”

  Everod tugged on his cravat, revealing the ugly scar on his neck. “He took his revenge, Maura. Do you really begrudge me mine?”

  She offered no rebuttal.

  The coach slowed, and finally halted. The coachman opened the door.

  “Permit me to pass, my lord.”

  In spite of his anger and his yearning for revenge, he was reluctant to allow her to escape him so easily. Everod could not deny that his exchanges with Maura stimulated him in several ways, and it left him uncertain on how to proceed. Damn it, he needed more time with her.

  Maura stubbornly held his gaze. For several heartbeats, they waged a silent battle of wills, as she patiently waited for him to move aside.

  Everod was the first to look away. He nodded at the large building. “I have visited the museum on numerous occasions. It would be an honor to act as your escort.”

  A shy expression crept into her eyes, and she blushed at his offer. “You? A patron of the museum?” She wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “I doubt you have changed that much in twelve years. It must have involved a wager of some sort.”