9781618859594HerDeviantLordPimentel by Layna Pimentel Page B

belly
fluttered with eagerness. If she became a widow, and if he still had anything
left, it would be hers to do with what she pleased. Matthew would not have a
meager childhood, and she—well, she had no delusions that she would be
attending any society balls. Her time for ball gowns, masquerades, and fine
dining were over. Nevertheless, she would return the kindness Missus Miller had
bestowed upon her.
    “Why would you do
that, Bastian? What possibly motivated you to make such inquiries?”
    “Why else would I
do it, Cordelia? Everything I have ever done for you has always been carefully
thought out, and with the best of intentions. Do you think I seek to harm you
in any way, with such information?”
    “I know not of
what your intentions are, my lord, but I am ever so clear on one thing. Even if
he were alive, he has been stripped of title, as have I. My life cannot be
restored to its previous state, nor do I have any desire to be thrown upon the
unfeeling and wretched lot that the ton is. Should Richard become aware that I am very much alive, I am most certain it
will send him into an apoplectic fit.”
    “How could you
possibly know such a thing?”
    “Really Bastian,
what would be your reaction, after all the wicked things you have done and
having been imprisoned in the meanwhile.”
    “I would be
shocked, horrified, humiliated, to be seen in such a state.”
    Of course he would.
    The sound of a
carriage approached. She watched Bastian crane his head and utter an oath. “For
the love of—”
    “Who is that,
Bastian?”
    “No one you need
to worry about, dear. Run along inside, and try not to keep Thompson waiting.”
    Cordelia found his
secrecy and intrigue about the guest fascinating. “No. I think I shall stay.”
    “No! I want you to
go inside.”
    “I do not take
orders from anyone, least of all you…”
    Suddenly, a woman
came barrelling out of the carriage, marching her way toward Bastian.
    “I told you never
to return here.”
    “And I told you
our discussion is not over. Who is this woman?” Then, the bold, angry pariah
tipped her neck to the side, and her mouth dropped open.
    Damnation. I have been discovered.
    “She is the
duchess…Downsbury’s wife… You are supposed to be dead!” the woman exclaimed in
horror.
    “And you are not
supposed to be here. Go home, Mary Elizabeth! I have nothing more to say to
you.”
    Cordelia wrapped
her arms tightly around her baby and visualized what would happen. By morning,
all of London would descend upon Stoughton Hall. She had to get out of here.
There was no way she would drag the marquess and his
wife’s good name through the mud, as her husband once had.
    Before another
word could be said, she ran toward the house. When she reached the servants’
entrance, she frantically ran to her room and began to pack what she could.
Meanwhile, Matthew kicked up a fuss.
    In her frantic
rush, Cordelia turned to find the marchioness standing by the door, watching
her with concern. “Cordelia, what in heaven’s name are you doing?”
    “Leaving.”
    “How come? What
happened with you and the earl outside? Are things truly over?”
    Over. No. They are only beginning, and your good name is about to be
scandalized once again. “I cannot say for certain,
but if I do not leave this instant, all of London will know by morning that I
am truly alive and well. Besides, the rest of my business can be conducted from
the country.” More like it has to be.
    She should have
seen this coming. Sooner or later, a visitor to Stoughton Hall would have
recognized her and alerted the ton of
her return.
    “Can I not
persuade you to stay on?”
    “My lady, while I
am grateful for all that you have done, I cannot, in good conscience, allow any
more scandal come to this house. You have gone through enough to last many
lifetimes, and I will not play a part in it now.”
    Guilt washed over
her. Perhaps it was best to leave them all now and forget any of this happened.
Matthew and