Marquess of Malice: Lords of Scandal Book 2

by Andresen, Tammy

  He scrubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts were spinning out of control. With startling clarity, he realized he sounded like a bloody woman.

  But somehow, he couldn’t cease worrying. While he’d been worried about committing to a woman he’d felt some attachment to, he may have held her far enough away that some other man was going to snatch her right from his grasp.

  Stepping outside, he watched Cordelia climb into her carriage. He hailed his own. He wasn’t certain why, he just wanted to see her again as though looking at her might make sense of his feelings.

  He pulled up to their house in time to see Lady Winthrop climbing out the carriage, Cordelia just behind.

  He watched them walk up to the door then enter. Climbing from his own vehicle, he stood on the cobblestone sidewalk, looking at the house. What now?

  A single candle caught his notice in one of the windows above. Squinting, he caught sight of a nymph-like figure. Was that Cordelia? It certainly wasn’t her mother. Too small. It could be one of her sisters?

  He considered his options. He could stare and risk a passerby seeing him. He could toss a pebble at the window, and potentially alert someone besides Cordelia he was here. Would anyone else even recognize him in the dark?

  He doubted it very much. Looking about the front garden beds, he found several small rocks that were about the right size. He lobbed one up and hit the siding of the house. “Bullocks,” he muttered.

  Picking up another, he tossed it again and hit the shutter next to the window. He was going to need more rocks.

  Climbing back into the garden bed, he felt around with his hands, the dirt cool to the touch.

  That’s when he heard the distinct sound of the sash sliding open. “Who goes there?”

  He was bent over, nearly under the privet but he’d recognize Cordelia’s voice anywhere. “Corde? It’s me.”

  She gasped. “Chad?”

  Why did his name sound so good on her lips? “Yes, love. I need to talk with you.”

  There was a pause, in which he crawled out from under the hedge and stood. Looking up, he could see her dark figure half-hanging out the window. “Meet me at the garden gate in five minutes.”

  She withdrew back inside and he thought for a moment she wasn’t going to answer. Then suddenly she was out again.

  “But if we’re caught, do you swear that you’ll marry me?” she asked.

  He stopped. There were worse fates. “Yes. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  She didn’t answer right away, but he heard her intake of breath. “I believe you.” Then she leaned back into the window, grabbing the sash to pull the glass back into place. “Go to the alley on the left. You can’t miss the gate.”

  “Cordelia,” he called, tugging at his coat. “I need you to help me—”

  “I know,” she answered. “I’ll be right down.”

  How could she possibly know? Shaking his head, he started for the gate.

  He found it easily enough but it was several minutes before Cordelia made her way down. He nearly missed her in the dark as she wore a long cloak with a hood. “Probably wise. Your outfit will help keep you from being discovered.”

  She paused on the path, lowering the hood. “That is one of the many advantages.”

  He quirked a brow. “What would the others be?”

  Cordelia’s fingers pressed to her cheeks. “It’s quite warm.”

  Malice wanted to further question her. She was clearly embarrassed about something. It was in her tone, her hunched shoulders. But there were more pressing matters. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  She gave her head a small shake. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Why?” His gut twisted.

  A sliver of moonlight came out as she nibbled at her lip. “We could be caught. I don’t relish marrying a man who was forced into the match.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “I know. You want a man to woo you.”

  She allowed him to pull her closer. “You make it sound silly.”

  “It isn’t silly at all, wanting to feel loved. I understand it completely.” Her cloak brushed his jacket and he wrapped a gentle arm about her back. “I’m sorry…” He stopped, realizing what he was about to say.

  “What are you sorry for?” she asked, tilting her head back.

  When she looked up at him like that, Malice couldn’t hold the words in. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a better proposal. You deserve the best sort. I just, I’m not sure I’m capable. My heart is damaged, Cordelia.” Maybe forever.

  She reached up and touched his face. Not wearing any gloves, her velvet-soft fingertips made his heart beat wildly in his chest. “You don’t have to explain to me.”

  “I do,” he whispered and then he leaned down to place a light kiss on that lovely mouth. “I saw the way McKenzie was holding you tonight. He wants to lay claim.”

  She shuddered, pulling away. “That’s absurd.”

  “It isn’t.” He tightened his hands on her waist. “Did he schedule another meeting?”

  Cordelia swallowed, her delicate throat working. “He asked about my calling hours. But…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I don’t like him, Cordelia. There is something off there that I can’t quite put my finger on. My name might be Malice but that man is cold.”

  She slid her fingers down to his neck, resting her palm against his skin. “But not you, you’re warm.”

  Bending down again, he captured her lips in the dark night. “I’d keep you warm, yes. All through the long English winter.”

  She kissed him back, reaching up to hold him with her other hand. “What happens when you tire of me? I am, after all, only suitable.”

  His fingers tightened on her waist. Curse that word and his use of it. “I won’t.” She was so soft in his arms, so perfect. How could he ever grow tired of this?

  She shook her head. “My sister, Emily, my cousin, Minnie. They’ve found love. All-consuming, passionate…” The word on her lips made him clench. “Emotional love. I’m going to have to witness their happiness for the rest of my life. And I’m thrilled for them. But how can I know my own joy, as I watched them, that my husband only thinks I’m suitable?”

  He couldn’t say the words that would wash away all her worries. Part of him wanted to, despite the fact he wasn’t sure they were true. Could a man like him even deserve the love of a tender, sweet, marvelous woman like her? But he wished he could tell her that he loved her just so she’d dismiss McKenzie and save her dances for him. It was selfish, he knew that, but she was the first solid thing he’d held in so long.

  “Let me show you how good it could be.” And then he pulled her even closer, his mouth covering hers. Slanting her lips open, his tongue swept into the dark depths of her lips, touching her tongue with his own. He heard her gasp and he gave a satisfied growl. Pulling away a bit, he murmured. “You taste like cinnamon.”

  “I have it in my tea while I undress.”

  He didn’t let her say more as he kissed her again. Sliding his hands under her cloak, he became aware that she didn’t have a dress or corset on and that only soft cotton and supple curves met his touch. “Corde,” he ground out as he explored her tiny waist and the flair of her hips. “You feel like heaven.”

  “Do I? That is lovely to hear.”

  She melted into him and he slid his hands around to cup her butt and pull her hips closer. She moaned, a tiny little sound of pleasure as her body pressed to his. His own manhood, already rock hard, throbbed at the feel of her softness pressed against him.

  He knew what she wanted. And while he couldn’t bring himself to confess feelings, he could tell her how much he wanted her. “You’re my little nymph,” he said as he trailed little nibbles down her neck. “Dancing about me smelling of cinnamon and cloves, filling my senses with earthy desires…” He stopped as he reached the hollow of her neck. Here she no longer smelled of spices but of fresh grass on a rainy morning, the sort that filled a man with
hope. Hell, she smelled of dogwood flowers, his favorite place to hide as a child. “And you make me want things I haven’t wanted or thought I could have in so long.”

  He pulled the string of her shift, wanting more of her skin. He should stop. But as her creamy flesh came into view, he thought he might never cease touching her.

  * * *

  Cordelia knew this was a terrible idea. Simply awful. But the words peppering her chest filled her with a breathless excitement she’d never experienced before. The kisses helped too, of course.

  “I want things from you too,” she whispered into the night. By all accounts, McKenzie was the more handsome man but the passion, strength, and need in Chad had captured her very soul. “I want to be near you, to touch you.” Always. But she didn’t utter the word out loud. “I’ve never experienced such…longing.”

  He slid his lips down until they were placing little pecks along the top of her breasts. “I know, love. I know.” He rested his forehead on her chest. “I owe you an explanation but every time I get you alone to tell you, I end up using my mouth to kiss you rather than explain.”

  Cordelia wasn’t certain that was entirely wrong. “It’s all right.”

  “I told you already that my mother died giving birth to me. My father, he loved her very much and he…he blamed me for taking her away. He liked to tell me often that I’d killed her, that he wished I’d never been born.”

  Cordelia had hurt for others of course, but never like this. She could feel his pain in the racing of his heart. Wrapping her arms about his neck, she held his face tight to her chest. “Oh Chad, no little boy should ever have to hear such hateful words.”

  He stilled against her. “The words were difficult but they weren’t the worst of it.”

  Cordelia didn’t need him to explain. Her breath caught. “He hurt you.”

  Chad pressed his face into her, his eyes squeezing shut. “I’d hide in this tree so that he couldn’t find me. It was only an issue when he drank and—” The words clogged in his throat.

  She pressed her cheek to the top of his head. “You don’t have to say anymore. I understand.” She did, at least partly. Was he explaining why he couldn’t express his feelings or why he didn’t feel them? She wasn’t certain.

  And Cordelia knew this meant they were at an impasse. She wanted a man to love her and he was trying to explain why he couldn’t. She ached for him. Odd considering he’d just shared that he couldn’t give her what she needed.

  “Please. Give me more time before you make your decision. I’m trying to be more of what you want and I need to know that you won’t agree to marry him right away.”

  She smiled against the top of his head. Time was something she could give him and it made her happy to do so. “By all accounts, Diana should marry before I do. Who knows how long it will take her to decide? Her options will likely be unlimited.”

  He raised his head, then brushed a finger across her cheek. “You think you’re less than your sisters and cousins? You’re not. Don’t you see that your beauty is not only on the surface but on the inside too, shining brightly and creating a glow about you that—” He stopped.

  She held still as she looked up at him. “That was beautiful.” She’d been writing when he’d arrived, beginning her first ever love story. She couldn’t imagine more perfect words falling from any hero’s lips.

  He gave her a one-sided grin. “I am rather impressed with myself. But then again, I have the distinct feeling that you sprinkled me with magical fairy dust that has entranced me.”

  Quite suddenly, she couldn’t help herself. Tugging on his neck, she brought his mouth down to hers again. There was a desperation to this kiss, as though she were trying to say all the feelings she had with this touch. The ones she couldn’t express out loud without risk of scaring him away.

  He’d been wounded deeply and completely as a child. While she hoped for more from him in the future, for now she could be content with this. Even if he broke her heart, time with him was an experience she’d not miss for all the world. The pain, that was tomorrow’s problem.

  Chapter Eight

  Malice sat at the breakfast table of the Duke of Darlington, the Earl of Exmouth and the Viscount of Viceroy in attendance as well.

  Not only did these men co-own the club, they were more like family than his own had ever been.

  “I don’t like that McKenzie fellow. That I can say for certain.” He clenched his fork.

  Vice, as they fondly liked to refer to the viscount, quirked a brow, his normally fair face looking rather mischievous. “You’re not going to stab me with that utensil if I tell you the truth, are you?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I make no promises.”

  Exile cleared his throat, his powerful fist lightly banging the table. “There will be no stabbing.”

  Vice pushed his chair back, balancing on two legs. “The truth is that you’re good-old-fashioned jealous of the man.” He gave him an angelic smile.

  Darlington chuckled. “Jealousy is one emotion I can tolerate in this situation. It might prompt you to see reason.”

  Malice opened his mouth to tell Darlington to go to hell, but Vice answered first, the legs of his chair landing on the plush carpet with a decided thump. “You’ve gone bloody mad, Daring. Jealousy is the opposite of what Malice should be feeling. The man needs to remember this is a marriage of convenience. Now, if a mate tries to bed her after your wedding and then stick you with raising the pup, that’s a whole different problem. But she’s only one woman in a sea of choices. If McKenzie wants her then—”

  Malice slammed his fist, still holding the fork, onto the table. He’d had enough of that sort of talk. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to take Exile out first just so that he can’t stop me from killing you.”

  “If you scratch my table, you’re replacing it,” Darlington added, his voice even and light. “And I had the wood shipped from the Americas so it won’t be cheap.”

  Exile chuckled, “Take me out. You’ve gone mad if you think you’re big enough.”

  Malice drew in a deep breath. “McKenzie isn’t laying a hand on her now or in the future. I don’t like him one bit and I just have a feeling that he’d bring Cordelia nothing but misery.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” Exile nodded as he scooped up a large bite of eggs. “The man is in gambling debt up to his eyeballs. Owes half the clubs in town. He’s likely looking for a bride to bail him out of his troubles.”

  Malice sucked in a breath. Of course he was. He’d only asked Cordelia to dance after Diana had refused. The man wanted to wed the first purse that accepted him. “We have to stop him before he convinces Cordelia that he’s a proper candidate for her hand.”

  “Are we stopping you too?” Daring asked leaning forward on his elbows. “You only want her to wed to make an heir and then shove her into the country. How is your offer any better than his?”

  Damn Daring and his reason. His gut clenched. “I was honest, at least. I gave her the opportunity to refuse me on fair ground.” If McKenzie realized how much Cordelia wished for romance than he might use that information to manipulate her into a match.

  Somehow, he managed to squeeze the fork even tighter as he pushed the plate away. “You understand.” He rubbed his neck, looking at each of the men. “She’s been passed over as men have courted her sisters. It only takes one man to realize she wants to feel special and he’ll be able to completely take advantage of her. By the time she realizes, it will be too late.”

  His words were met with silence.

  Finally, Vice broke it. “If you ask me, it’s already too late.”

  “It is not,” he fired back, straightening. “We can protect her from making a mistake and ruining her future.”

  “I’m not talking about her.” Vice crossed his arms. “I’m referring to you. It’s too late for you, you’ve gone and developed feelings.” He gave a shiver. “Christ, Jack made that joke at the club. Do you remember it? Careful, o
r you’ll all catch feelings. Like it was a disease. Well it bloody may very well be contagious.”

  “Stop being ridiculous.” Malice’s own heart began thumping loudly in his chest. “I don’t develop feelings. I can’t. I swear my heart is so scarred that it couldn’t feel if I tried.”

  “Dear God.” Vice stood, his lip curling. “Are you talking about her healing your broken heart? This is bloody worse than I thought.”

  Daring gave a snort and then a laugh. “I think it’s fantastic.”

  “I haven’t caught feelings,” he choked, rising as well. “I won’t listen to this anymore.” Then he stormed from the room and headed for the front door. Cordelia’s calling hours would start soon. He’d be there from the start to the finish. If his friends wouldn’t help him, then he’d fend off McKenzie himself.

  “Malice, wait.” Exile called. “I’ll go with you.”

  Excellent. Exile was bloody good in a fight. Just the bloke he needed.

  * * *

  Cordelia sat in the sunroom, the light streaming in, making the room pleasantly warm. A full tea service sat to her right as Lord McKenzie smiled at her from her left.

  She stood, shifting in order to pour him a cup of tea. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lord McKenzie.”

  “And you as well, Lady Cordelia.” He gave her another smile. She’d only realized that his eye teeth were slightly more prominent. A small flaw but it gave him the appearance of a wolf when he grinned like that. “I was very pleased to make your acquaintance last night.”

  Pouring his cup of tea, she handed it to him, making eye contact with her mother. The other woman sat near the corner, pretending to knit. Cordelia could see that she wasn’t really paying attention, unless she were knitting a very long scarf. She’d not made a single turn in her stitch since Lord McKenzie had arrived. “And I was pleased to make yours as well.” She drew in a deep breath. “As was Diana. She should be down momentarily. She was a bit delayed this morning.”