Marquess of Malice (Lords of Scandal 2)

Her chin snapped up then, and she stared at him over her glasses. Reaching up, she pulled them from her face then pointed them at him. “To be fair, you were glad when I didn’t really answer.” Her chin notched. “Which is to my point. Not only do I want a husband who shares my likes and dislikes but I’d prefer that he actually liked me.” She tossed the glasses aside, taking a step forward. “I know I’m not much compared with my sisters but—”

His mouth dropped open and suddenly he understood. He had his own reasons for wanting a marriage of complete convenience and they were rooted in his past. Was it so odd that she needed a man to fill in her insecurities? “The rest of society will think you’re wildly successful for having married a marquess.”

She gave her head a tiny shake. “I’m sure they would.”

The pink in her cheeks spread down her neck. The shade of color reminded him of pink dogwood blossoms in the spring. The very same ones in the tree he’d hidden in as a child.

“But you wouldn’t.” He drew in a long breath. It was better she’d said no. He was already growing strangely sentimental over the girl. “Very well. I hope that I’ve apologized for my gaffe in manners.”

She gave him a small smile. The sort that crinkled her eyes and highlighted the apples of her cheeks. “No need to apologize. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from a man named Malice.”

Her accusation made him stiffen. The name was fine among his male friends, but he didn’t like hearing her say it. Did she think him cruel? Was that part of the reason she’d declined? He clenched and unclenched his fist. What did it matter? This would all be made easier if he could simply leave.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just bid Cordelia farewell. He’d agreed to keep watch over the little nymph before him. Until such time he was certain she wouldn’t share the club’s secrets or be ruined, he’d have to keep an eye on her.

“Corde,” one of the women hissed. “We’re not supposed to use that name.”

Corde. He liked it. Something about it suited her fairy-like features. He had this brief flash of her flying over him and sprinkling him with her magic dust. He gave his head a shake. “I would also prefer you not use that name but as we’re all familiar with it here, there’s no harm.”

“All right,” Daring muttered behind him, letting out a long breath. “You’re acting very strange.”

He ignored Daring, focusing on Cordelia instead. She’d folded her hands over her stomach. “Minnie.” She looked to her cousin. “Shouldn’t we return to your wedding breakfast? Surely you and Lord Darlington are anxious to begin your travel.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Darlington called from behind her, “But we’re only travelling across London.” He stepped next to Malice, squeezing part of his body in the door frame. “Why don’t you ladies return to the breakfast? Lord Malicorn and I will be along momentarily.”

Daring slapped him on the shoulder, hard. Then he pushed him into the room so the ladies could get out. They filed past silently, each giving him a sidelong glance before exiting. He crossed his arms and straightened his back.

Cordelia, the final lady to pass, stopped just in front of him. She drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Lord Malicorn.”

“For what?” he asked, cocking his head as he studied her.

She stepped a little closer. “For asking for my hand.” Her eyes darted everywhere but toward him. “I haven’t had much male attention in my life but forever I get to say I got a proposal before Diana or Grace. Not an easy task to be certain.” Then she smiled and stared into his eyes. “Thank you for asking me instead of one of them.”

His chest tightened. He wished he could reach out and touch her face. Trail his thumb along the delicate curve of her cheek while he leaned over and softly kissed the plump curve of her mouth. “You’re welcome.” Then he cleared his throat, crossing the room and picking up her spectacles. “Don’t forget these.”

He brought them back to her, their fingers brushing as he placed the frames in her hand. Waves of tension passed through him at the touch. She was very pretty without her glasses. Beautiful even, but somehow, he liked the spectacles on her face even more. With a final nod, she turned and followed the other women from the room.

“That’s it,” Daring said from just next to him. “Tell me what the bloody blue bullocks is going on with you.”

“With me? You’re the one who keeps pushing and shoving me.” He turned to his friend, cocking a brow. “Love doesn’t look all that pretty on you.”

“See.” Daring poked him in the chest. “That’s the man I know. Sarcastic quips instead of polite manners or even actual feelings.” Daring stepped closer. “And another thing, when do you allow me to take a swing at you without hitting back? When do you freely hand out apologies and then give ladies permission to use your secret name? When do you pick up objects for people from the floor? I’d have expected you to step on them after her rejection.”

Malice shrugged, fixing his gaze on the wall to his right. “I am capable of change. I have to marry and, if nothing else, I’ve realized I may have to soften a bit to get a woman to agree. I was testing the theory and it seemed to have worked.” Liar. He’d smoothed his rougher edges because he’d been worried about Cordelia’s feelings. Him, the Marquess of Malice, being considerate. It was beyond ridiculous.

And Daring couldn’t know that. His friend had just fallen in love and gotten married. If Daring found out that Malice was even a little mushy on a woman he’d start getting ideas about love matches and happy endings. He’d tell Minnie and Minnie would share with Cordelia. Then Cordelia might have entirely inappropriate ideas about what to expect from him.

Not that she was marrying him. She’d been rather firm in her rejection. But, despite his wounded pride and the realization she wasn’t quite the woman he’d thought, he also wasn’t ready to give up. What he needed now was a plan.

* * *

Cordelia stood by the smoked salmon plate on the banquet table, her head bent with Grace and Diana’s. They were supposed to be enjoying Minnie’s wedding breakfast. Instead they were…scheming. “So you’re absolutely certain the Countess of Abernath will be at the Regal Ball?”

“She never misses it,” Grace said as she fluffed her skirts. “And my friend, Amelia, heard her discussing it with her maid at the sweet shop on Baker Street.”

“Your friend heard?” Diana sniffed. “Is that really enough to go on?”

“O