Earl of Infamy
Earl of Infamy
Lords of Scandal
Tammy Andresen
Contents
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Her Wicked White
About the Author
Other Titles by Tammy
Untitled
Earl of Infamy
Lords of Scandal
* * *
Tammy Andresen
* * *
Forward: This book is dedicated to my mother…. I didn’t plan it this way but the longer I wrote, the more Avery reminded me of you. Fighting for freedom, feisty, but still loving. Thanks for everything, Mom!
Chapter One
“Forgive me, my lord, but the answer is no.” Avery Bright peered through the dark veil covering her eyes at the man who stood before her. He was tall, dark-haired, broad in the shoulder but the black layers of tulle, along with the dimly lit room, kept her from seeing the details of his face.
A definite disadvantage now.
“What?” His rough voice grated out, craggy and deep. It might have been a pleasant baritone if he didn’t sound so irritated. The Earl of Ivinhart. That’s the name he’d given her.
She gripped the letter he’d handed her at the outset of their interview tighter in her hand. She was used to people being irritated with her. At some point, when a woman lived with a man who was always angry, she either folded under his ire or learned to ignore it. Avery was the latter.
“No,” she repeated softly. “I cannot, in good conscience, leave London with you.”
He let out a noise that was somewhere between a huff and a growl. Even through the veil, she could see the tension in his shoulders. She kept her shoulders straight and stared at him through the dark fabric.
He shifted. “Just read the letter.”
Looking down at the parchment she still clutched, Avery noted the Duke of Devonhall’s seal. Devonhall was her cousin-in-law, married to her cousin, Isabella. Her cousins were the only family she had left, now.
Clearly, this man knew her family as he claimed.
She turned back to the desk and reached for the letter opener to split open the seal. The handle was cold in her bare hand. She’d been pulled from bed for this meeting and hadn’t donned her gloves. She’d only just managed to toss the veil over her head as she’d headed out the door of her room, following the maid who now sat silently in the corner.
Though it was past two in the morning, she hadn’t been asleep. Isabella and her duke had gone out to a ball and, as was her habit, Avery had been up waiting for them. In fact, she wondered why they hadn’t arrived home yet. While some lords and ladies would stay out until the sunrise, Bash and Isabella only socialized out of obligation. They were far more content at home and were often the first to leave such events.
With her back to the earl, she carefully lifted the veil and scanned the contents as she gripped her housecoat tighter about her frame. The contents explained much. Including why the couple had yet to arrive home.
There could be no doubt the letter was from her cousin. In rushed words, Isabella explained that Emily, Isabella’s sister, had nearly been kidnapped by the very men who they believed had killed Avery’s father. Her fingers tightened in the fabric as fear shivered down her spine.
“Might we leave now?” Ivinhart rumbled behind her. “Time is of the essence.”
She set the letter down on the desk and placed the veil over her face again. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to face the man who was apparently her rescuer though he seemed a bit more like the villain.
Then again, perhaps she could no longer tell.
She wore the veil to mourn her father’s death. It was expected of her. But the man had been a cold-blooded tyrant and his murder had been her emancipation. For the first time in her entire life she was free. “What happens if I don’t go?”
He reached up a hand and raked his fingers through the dark locks. It was a gesture of irritation but something about it was rather boyish and charming. It showed he wasn’t just cold and rumbly but somehow more human. “I honestly don’t know.”
Those words softened her further. He might be as uncertain as she. “Why didn’t Isabella and Bash come to collect me themselves?”
“They’ve already left the city,” he answered, his voice quieter, perhaps more gentle. “Every member of your family is leaving London, going in a different direction with a different person.”
“Oh dear.” She clasped her hands against her stomach. For the first time real flutters of fear thrummed inside. They’d all left the city? She was here alone?
She swallowed down a lump as she looked back at Ivinhart. Leaving with him meant she’d be ruined. Which didn’t bother her nearly as much as it ought. Her entire life she’d been a prisoner to her father’s anger and schemes.
The truth was, she had no intention of marrying. Ever.
She’d decided shortly after his death that she’d not be subjected to a man’s whims again.
Travelling with the Earl of Ivinhart was certainly one way to effectively ruin herself quickly and completely to ensure she never, ever, ever had to wed. “Do I have time to dress?”
His shoulders slumped in relief. “If you’re quick. We’ll pack only a few essentials. No trunk I’m afraid. I’ll buy you more clothing when we’ve reached our destination.”
“You’ll buy me clothes?” she asked as she passed him and made her way into the hall. Now that she’d made up her mind, she was eager to see the plan through. “And His Grace agrees with this?”
She was moving down the hall and he followed, the maid just behind both of them. “He does.”
She crinkled her brow, surprised and a bit perplexed. Avery had assumed that after her period of mourning, she’d have to come up with a way to support herself. Had her cousin-in-law already resigned himself to the fact that she’d be ruined and that he’d have to support her after she returned to London?
Because if he had, that would make her future plans a great deal easier.
Granted, she still needed to decide what she would do with herself. She couldn’t just sit in this house all day but that was a problem for another time, not the middle of the night as she attempted to steal away from London.
Then a new thought occurred to her. “Does His Grace intend to tell everyone that I travelled with him and Isabella rather than you?” She’d decided to go, and she would. It was clearly a case of safety. But the plan was made all the better if it involved her permanent removal from the marriage mart. And if the Duke of Devonhall had already made plans to secure her reputation…well, that would mean she might need to marry still. Or find another way out.
Silence met her question, but she kept moving, entering her room, and leaving him in the hall. She’d ask again after she’d dressed.
She turned to begin instructing the maid. Avery had fully expected Ivinhart to wait outside, but as she spun, she found him in her room. “My lord.” She stopped, freezing where she stood. “What are you doing in my room?”
He grimaced. “Helping you to pack a few essentials.”
“But I need to dress.”
He shrugged. “There’s a changing screen. Just step behind that.” And then he crossed over to her armoire and began pulling out articles of clothing.
The man had lost his mind. She was about to travel with a madman.
Noah Graves, the Earl of Iv
inhart, could feel her eyes on his back as he opened the clothes press and pulled out stockings from one of the drawers.
“My lord,” she admonished behind him. “Are you touching my under—” She stopped short, not finishing the sentence.
The corner of his mouth twitched. She was too much a lady to say the rest, but he wished she had.
Avery Bright was strong and practical. She’d been a bit hardheaded at the start, but that was to be expected. Admired even. What sort would she be if she’d just agreed to leave with a stranger? He didn’t yet know if she was pretty or what her figure might look like under that dressing gown, but at least she wasn’t foolish or silly, dimwitted, or prone to bouts of emotion.
All in all, her calm and intelligent demeanor was a relief.
It wasn’t every day that a man agreed to marry a woman sight unseen.
He winced at the idea. Because he’d yet to actually tell her that part of the arrangement he’d made with Bash, the Duke of Devonhall, was that he’d wed Miss Avery Bright once they arrived at his country estate.
On the one hand, telling her might explain a great deal. Why Bash had given his permission for the two of them to travel alone and why Noah would be furnishing her wardrobe. On the other, it would surely bring up a great many questions he wasn’t quite ready to answer.
Questions like, why would you agree to marry a woman you’ve never met?
He cleared his throat. The answer to that was…complicated.
Noah and Bash, along with a few other lords, owned a gaming hell together called the Den of Sins.
With the duke’s marriage, he’d lost interest in the club. He’d offered Noah his shares in the business if Noah married Avery.
How did one tell a woman her dowry was an illegal club?
Not to mention that her husband-to-be was such a known rake that even as an earl, he’d have a difficult time getting a woman of quality to marry him.
Or at least he thought he might have a hard time. To be fair, he hadn’t tried.
And he didn’t really want to.
He knew he needed a wife at some point. But a man with his past didn’t exactly rush into marriage. In fact, he’d looked at the state of matrimony with a fair amount of dread.
But Avery seemed the practical sort and he was certain she’d be willing to come to an agreement of sorts with him. He could continue on with the club and his life and she’d have the protection afforded a countess. They’d both benefit.
So why did he not wish to tell her?
He turned to see Avery still hadn’t moved. She stared at him through the veil.
“If you could begin changing… We really must go.”
She made a squeaking sound as though she’d tried to speak but then stopped. “You’re not going to leave the room?”
The maid covered her mouth with her hands, eyeing Avery with wide eyes. The women exchanged a look. He’d best stop them before they started putting up more barriers. He and Avery needed to leave posthaste.
“I saw three men loitering out front when I arrived. I had my driver drop me three streets away and then I snuck through the neighbor’s garden to get into the house through the kitchen. Forgive me, Miss Bright, but time is of the essence.”
That seemed to spur her on, and she spun and marched behind the screen, the maid following.
He saw the veil drape over the screen first and he had the most ridiculous urge to see what her face looked like.
It didn’t matter.
And besides, they really did need to hurry.
He supposed it was natural for a man to want to see his future wife but her looks were of no consequence. The honest truth was this was a business arrangement. One where he was provided an heir and she received a future as a countess, and he avoided having to participate in society for a season to find a wife.
But telling her all that now would only delay their departure.
He packed the essentials into a satchel and then turned to find her dressed in a simple gown of black, the veil back over her face. He frowned. “You’re going to travel in your mourning weeds?”
She shrugged. “It has the added advantage of hiding my identity.”
He raised his eyebrows. That was true and damned smart if one cared about hiding one’s identity. Not that she needed to. She was about to become his wife.
And no one would question the match. She was the daughter of a baron, granted one who had squandered his entire fortune, but the rest of society needn’t know that. When they returned to London in six months, it would be said that Bash and Isabella came for a nice visit with Isabella’s cousin where a match was made. End of story.
He supposed it did aid their charade if her identity was kept secret on the way to his home. She was right. The veil should stay.
With a shrug, he picked up the satchel and offered his arm. “Now we need to discuss how we’re leaving the house.”
“Are we sneaking through the garden?” she asked. He couldn’t quite tell, but he thought she might have smiled.
He trailed his gaze down her trim figure, noting that she was quite shapely in all the right places.
He gave his head a shake. What she looked like beneath her clothes was of no consequence. “I thought we might. My driver is waiting just down the street.”
She gave a nod. “Once we get outside, I’ll remove the veil just so that I don’t trip.”
He cleared his throat. “You might as well remove it now.”
He saw her hesitate for the briefest second and then she reached up pulling the fabric away from her face.
Chocolate brown hair met his gaze first, thick and shining in the candlelight. Large brown eyes were next, fringed with dark lashes. Her small, straight nose came into view, along with her pink cheeks, and finally rosy, full lips that might make a man ache.
He closed his eyes, his features growing tight. She was lovely. Which under normal circumstances would please a man to no end. His bride was pretty. More than that. She was delicately beautiful in a way that called to him.
But he wasn’t happy. Not at all. He didn’t want a gorgeous bride and certainly not one whose beauty erred on the side of vulnerable. He didn’t want to feel anything for this woman. Because feelings complicated everything.
Chapter Two
Avery attempted not to gasp as the fabric fell away from her face.
Ivinhart stared at her, his face set in a decided frown. It pulled at his eyes and mouth, his features stern in their assessment of her.
Not that his severe expression detracted from his looks. Or perhaps it did, maybe if he were smiling, he’d be even better looking. More charming. But even with his features set in a look of irritation the man was handsome.
She looked away, folding the veil. She ought to place it in the satchel, but he was holding the bag and she didn’t dare move any closer. Something about him set her on edge. She glanced down at the floor, not able to look in his eyes again and took a breath.
Now was not the time to grow distracted.
But she clearly was…terribly so…because she didn’t even notice he’d moved closer until he stood in front of her, his hand reaching for hers.
She jolted, a tingling travelling up her hand as his fingers brushed hers. “I’ll put this away. Shall we?”
She gave a nod and as he offered his elbow, she slipped her fingers into his arm.
And then they were off.
Out the door and down the back stairwell. Through the kitchen and into the garden. Avery hardly noticed, the feel of his biceps under her hand distracting her to no end.
Which was odd. No man had ever affected her like this. She didn’t want to feel anything for anyone. In fact, she’d be much happier if she could live without the company of men for the rest of her life.
Not that she minded her cousins’ husbands. They all seemed like fine men; all kind, caring, and protective of their wives.
But she didn’t want that sort of relationship. Couldn’t risk falling in love
for the wrong person and so she’d much prefer to feel nothing with her hand on his arm. She was going to be with this man for…how long?
“When do you think His Grace will come and collect me?”
“Shhh,” was his only response as he looked about the garden.
They tiptoed over to the gate and made their way out onto the drive and then into Lady Aberforth’s garden on the other side.
She didn’t ask again and remained silent as they cut through an alley and entered another street. Silence filled the night air as they picked their way over the cobblestones. Even the sound of their feet hitting the stone seemed to amplify in the night.
Without warning, Ivinhart stopped. He cocked his head and put out a hand to keep her from moving forward.
Her fingers tightened on his arm as she strained her ears. What did he hear?
His fingers brushed her abdomen and her insides jolted with sensation. She gasped in a quick breath before she clamped her lips closed to keep from making any more noise.
“See that carriage,” a rough male voice called. “What’s that buggy doin’ there?”
“Shit,” Ivinhart rumbled.
Avery remained silent as two men crossed in front of the alley where they hid in the shadows.
“Hey,” one of the men called. “What are you doing sitting there?”
“Is that them?” Avery whispered, clutching his arm tighter. By them she meant the men who’d tried to take Emily. The men who’d been loitering about. The men who might wish to hurt her.
And though she’d just been thinking how she didn’t wish to touch Ivinhart, didn’t want a man at all, she was exceedingly glad he was here, and she found herself moving closer. Her shoulder pressed into his, her face turning into his arm.