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

go on without her
for an entire fortnight.”
    “Oh, my,” Phoebe replied breathlessly.
    He smiled down at her, a charming rogue in
every way. “You don’t mind allowing me a few moments alone with
her, do you?”
    He was good, or wicked, depending on one’s
view of him. There was no way romantically minded Phoebe would turn
him down. They stopped walking and her friend gaped, open-mouthed.
“Cordie?”
    This was her one chance. Who knew when she
would see the marquess again? “Please, Phoeb?”
    Phoebe nodded her head and looked back
around the bend they had just taken. “I don’t think they can see us
from here. But don’t go too far.”
    Phoebe had barely finished her sentence
before Haversham whisked Cordie behind a tree. She blinked up at
him, an appreciative smile tugging at her lips. In less than a
second, his hands were planted on her waist and he loomed over her.
“What,” he whispered in her ear, “are you doing with Clayworth,
angel?”
    Cordie swallowed nervously, placing her
hands on his firm, powerful chest. “I wasn’t given a choice in the
matter.”
    He grinned at that. “Not your cup of tea, is
he?”
    She shook her head.
    “Too stuffy?” he asked, slowly lowering his
head.
    She nodded.
    “Too noble?” he whispered across her lips,
and Cordie was certain her heart was about to pound right out of
her chest.
    “I don’t want to think about him,” she
admitted, desperately wanting Haversham’s lips to touch hers more
than anything.
    He apparently read the need in her eyes, as
his smile vanished and he leaned closer. His cheroot scented breath
washed over her, and Cordie closed her eyes, more than ready for
his kiss.
    An instant later, his hands left her waist
and his chest disappeared from beneath her fingertips. “Agh!” came
his masculine complaint.
    Cordie blinked her eyes wide. Haversham was
on the ground five feet away from her with Clayworth standing over
him, fire in his twilight eyes.  Then the earl scowled at her.
“You, back to my phaeton!”
    She hated being ordered about. Over the last
few weeks she’d had to follow every stricture from her mother.
She’d been kept from her dearest friend. She’d been made a prisoner
in her own home. She hadn’t enjoyed one moment of freedom—except
for those few moments she’d spent in Haversham’s company.  The
Earl of Clayworth would not dictate to her.
    Hands on her hips, she glared back at him.
“You’re not my keeper.”
    He stalked towards her, tightly grasping her
arm in his hands. “You are under my care until I return you to your
mother’s doorstep. If you want to throw yourself at every scoundrel
in Town, you’ll have to do so on your own time.”
    Clayworth pulled her back through the copse
and into the open park. Cordie struggled to free her arm. The earl
only increased his pace, and Cordie couldn’t catch one glimpse of
Haversham or Phoebe. In no time, they reached Clayworth’s phaeton
and he tossed her into the seat, anger rolling off him.
    After he took his spot on the seat and began
directing his bays out of the park, Cordie chanced a glance at him.
Clayworth’s sculpted lips were drawn up tight, his eyes focused on
the path ahead of them. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and Cordie
felt unexplainably guilty, which was hard to understand. She didn’t
owe the earl anything. She didn’t even like him. She never had.
What did she care that he was angry?
    “Are you going to mention this to my
mother?” she finally asked as they crossed Park Lane.
    Clayworth’s head whipped towards her, fury
flashing from his eyes. “Am I going to mention that
I
allowed the most depraved man in the country to abscond with you?
I’d rather not.”
    “I don’t think he’s depraved at all.”
    Clayworth shook his head and refocused on
the street. “I don’t believe you’re thinking at all.”
    They rode the rest of the way in silence,
neither of them looking at the other. Cordie had never been more
relieved than when she