A Scandalous Past (Regency Romance, Book 4) by Ava Stone Page A

all. “Yes.” Even as she said the word, her heart
ached.
    “Well,” Phoebe began, “I thought about that
quite a bit last night. How much do you know about the
marquess?”
    Now Cordie felt foolish. What did she know
about the marquess? She knew about the scandals he’d been involved
in over the years.  She knew that he was wickedly handsome.
She knew he was a friend of Kelfield’s, which was quite important.
“Not much I suppose.”
    Phoebe nearly bounced on her toes.
“Excellent. Follow me.”
    Her friend excitedly towed her back
upstairs, to the family’s wing and into Phoebe’s set of rooms.
Books were scattered across the bed as well as foolscap with jotted
notes.  Cordie followed Phoebe’s lead and sat on the edge of
the bed. “What’s all this?”
    “We’ll get to that.  But first, I do
have two unmarried uncles. Both are younger than Haversham. You
could be my Aunt Cordelia.”
    Cordie couldn’t help but grin. That was the
second time someone referred to the marquess as old.  How old
was he? “Are either of them scoundrels?”
    Phoebe shook her head. “Only Uncle Simon has
ever been referred to as such, and he’s already married.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t consider either of them
then.”
    Phoebe heaved a sigh. “Well, it was worth a
try.”
    Then a thought occurred to Cordie. She
really should test her theory. “Your Aunt, the one who married the
scoundrel…”
    “Aunt Liberty?”
    Cordie nodded.  “Is she happy with
him?”
    “Ecstatic, especially since he’s retired
from the navy.”
    That was good news.  “And is he ever
controlling or demanding with her?”
    Phoebe fell back on the bed with peals of
laughter. “I’d like to see him try.”
    Relief washed over Cordie. She was on the
right path. Her resolve strengthened, she picked up a piece of
foolscap with splotchy writing. “What’s this?”
    Oh!” Phoebe shot back up and snatched the
foolscap from Cordie’s hands. “You’re going out of order.  Now
I did a lot of research on Haversham last night. I thought if
you’re dead set on him, that you should know as much as
possible.”
    It was a fairly good idea, actually. 
Cordie positioned herself on the bed, ready to learn.
    “He was born in ’77.  An only
child.  His family seat is in eastern Yorkshire outside
Driffield. He attended Eton, started at Oxford, but didn’t complete
his studies.”
    “How do you know all this?” Cordie gaped at
Phoebe. She’d never considered her friend to be this organized. She
always seemed the silliest of the bunch.
    “Oh, I just went through Debrett’s last
night, and I talked a little with Matthew. He’s been to some of
those clubs and gaming hells Haversham frequents. I couldn’t get
him to tell me a lot, but I did get some useful information from
him.”
    Cordie gasped. Did Matthew Greywood know
what they were up to?  “You didn’t tell him—”
    Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Please. He was with
Clayworth when you and Haversham snuck off. He’s worried about you
falling in with the wrong sort, by the way. So, that’s what I told
him I was doing—gathering information on the marquess to make you
see straight. Men deny it, but they gossip just as much as we
do.”
    Relieved, Cordie took a steadying breath. It
appeared Phoebe’d thought of everything. “What did he say?”
    Well, the marquess is most definitely a
rake, along the same order as Kelfield—but then we knew that. 
He was married for quite a while until his wife passed away three
years ago. It was apparently a loveless marriage as the marchioness
never left Yorkshire, and Haversham rarely left London.  They
have one child, a daughter – Lady Callista, who is, according to
Debrett’s, seven years old. So no male heir, at least not a
legitimate one, and that’s something you could use to your
advantage.”
    No gently bred woman would agree to such
a thing. The captain’s words echoed in her mind. “Phoebe, do
you know what’s happening to