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

Livvie?”
    At once her friend looked panicked. “No,
what?”
    Cordie shook her head. “Someone mentioned
that Kelfield has a daughter and Livvie is acting as the child’s
mother.”
    Phoebe took a breath, the smile returned to
her face. “Oh, that. Mother is scandalized over it, not that she
can say so out loud. My cousins Kurt and Kitty were born on the
wrong side of the blanket, and since they live here and my
grandparents dote on them, Mother has to bite her tongue.”
    “So, it’s true?” Cordie couldn’t imagine
Livvie having to experience such an ordeal.
    Phoebe shrugged. “Such are the perils of
marrying a scoundrel. If you want a saint, Clayworth’s your
man.”
    Clayworth. His name made her heart beat
faster. Cordie shook her head. It was best not to think of him. It
would only make this harder. “What else?”
    “Something terrible, but I’m not sure what
it was.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    Phoebe frowned. “I’m not sure. Matthew said
that the marquess did something truly terrible years ago. He said
it was never spoken about, but that everyone knows it, or everyone
does who was around at the time. Since my brother’s your age, none
of his friends know what it is either.”
    How terrible must it be to not even be
spoken of?  Cordie stared towards the window, trying to think
of the worst thing possible anyone could do. Had he killed someone?
What was worse than that? “Someone must know. I certainly can’t ask
my mother.”
    “Nor mine,” Phoebe replied with a sigh.
“She’d think I’d set my cap for him.”
    Cordie sat up straight. “What about one of
your uncles? The commander must know.”
    Phoebe paled instantly. “ Uncle Simon .
That would be worse than asking my mother.”
    But someone must know. Someone she could
trust to tell her the truth, no matter how awful.
    Lady Staveley.
    The answer made her smile. Lady Staveley was
the most trustworthy person of her acquaintance. As soon as she
returned to London, she’d find some way to speak with the
viscountess and find out what awful thing the Marquess of Haversham
had done.
    ***           
    Marc left Mrs. Palmer’s establishment with a
frown. The girl who’d entertained him wore the cheapest of perfume,
and now he smelled of the awful stuff. He might not have cared if
she’d satisfied him, but she hadn’t. She was more concerned with
his coin that his cock. Perhaps he was just losing his interest in
this sort of thing. No one would ever have believed that.
    His coachman pulled open his door, and Marc
barely met the man’s eyes. “Mrs. Lassiter’s.”
    “Of course, my lord.”
    As he settled against the leather squabs, he
realized what he’d known for some time. This predicament he was in
was all Cordelia Avery’s fault. She looked at him with her
passion-filled, green eyes, making him nearly lose all control. She
was full of life, spirited, stunning, but best of all—ready to be
seduced. A lethal combination. Ever since he’d met her, he’d been
obsessed with having her. No one since had satisfied his
cravings.
    She was the perfect solution to his ennui,
or she would be if she was in London. How much longer would she be
in godforsaken Norfolk?
    When his coach finally rumbled to a stop at
his favorite hell, Marc threw open the door and bounded up the
steps. At least he could while away the time here. The double front
doors opened and Marc’s eyes widened in surprise when two burly men
actually tossed Lord Brookfield out on his arse.  He’d heard
of such things happening before, but he’d never actually witnessed
it.
    With a raised brow, he stepped over the
fallen viscount into the hell. Raucous laughter and billows of
smoke assailed him as he entered. “Lord Haversham, welcome back,”
Peters, Mrs. Lassiter’s brawny butler, greeted him.
    Marc tipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Peters.” He brushed past the man into the closest drawing room on
the right. Thankfully there was a spot open at a