Marquess of Malice (Lords of Scandal 2)

Malice once again stood outside the Chase residence. This time, however, the bright morning sun shone on him rather than the inky dark night.

He looked up at what he now knew was Cordelia’s window. The dark interior told him little of what might be happening inside.

He had about as much clarity regarding his own feelings. They were dark and shrouded, weighted by the past and murky as he contemplated the future.

But he knew a few facts with certainty. McKenzie was not going to sweep in and steal his chance with Cordelia. It surprised even him that he wanted that chance, but he did. He might not be the wooing type she wanted, but frankly, neither was McKenzie. McKenzie had come across as cold and dangerous, while at least he knew for sure he made her feel warm and desired. She’d said so herself.

Bounding up the steps, he hit the knocker on the door and was immediately seen in.

He heard voices coming from a sitting room to the right. He recognized Cordelia’s light, high, tinkling voice immediately. When he heard the deep rumble of a man, he didn’t have to guess who might already have arrived.

His chest tightened as he followed the butler toward the already open door. They were discussing him. He could hear himself being referenced. He supposed that was good. Even when not in the room, he was a topic of conversation; but still, Cordelia did not sound certain about him at all.

As the butler stepped in to announce him, he caught sight of his frowning little fairy. “That depends, I suppose.”

His jaw clamped shut. Depends? Malice had kissed her senseless last night. How had she not told this man to leave immediately? “Depends on what?” he called, unable to help himself. He hated that she had told McKenzie that. Her words gave the man hope and alerted him to opportunity.

She stared back at him, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses. “That depends on you.”

When he’d first met Cordelia, he’d thought her a malleable woman. She was quiet and often agreeable. But he realized now, behind her façade was a will made of iron. He rather liked it.

His body clenched in awareness and he stepped around the butler, foregoing the introduction. “Well, since I am part of this conversation, I’ll answer Lord McKenzie. I am possessive because I intend to marry Lady Cordelia.” He paused looking to the corner, “With Lord Winthrop’s permission of course.”

Lady Winthrop squeaked from the corner while Cordelia’s cheeks flushed with color, making her look rather invigorated. Desire pulsed through him.

McKenzie stood, his fists clenching. “No one told me the lady was spoken for.”

Cordelia stood too, her eyes darting between the two men. “Really, my lords. This isn’t necessary.”

“Do you consent to be my wife?” Malice asked her, stepping closer. If she agreed, he’d toss this upstart out by his ear. If she didn’t, well, he’d toss him out anyhow but the man would have more cause to put up a fight.

He held his breath, realizing that he wanted her to say yes. He was invested now. He’d sift through his feelings and fears later but right now he wanted Cordelia to be his wife.

“You asked again after all.” Cordelia gave him a soft smile.

“Again?” her mother called from the corner. “You received an offer from a marquess and I wasn’t notified?”

“Not now, Mother,” Cordelia huffed. Rather than push her glasses up, she pulled them off her face. He’d only seen her a few times without them, the very first day they’d met. He’d thought her very pretty then and she still was now, but somehow, the glasses had become part of how he pictured her and he liked her exactly as herself. He didn’t wish her to be different in anyway.

“I’m not sure how many more times I could ask so perhaps you’ll consider answering?” He stepped closer and reached for her hand. “Maybe even give me a different answer this time than the last.”

“Excuse me.” McKenzie stepped forward, moving into Malice’s space. “But you are interrupting a conversation the lady and I were having.”

“Find a new lady,” Malice replied, pushing out his chest. “This one is taken.”

“My lord.” Cordelia touched Malice’s sleeve. “There’s no need for this kind of behavior.”

Taking his eyes from McKenzie, he looked at Cordelia. “Worry not, my fair lady.”

Then McKenzie’s fist sank into his gut and he doubled over, Cordelia’s face growing blurry.

“Gentlemen,” her mother gasped.

But Cordelia grabbed his shoulder. “If you must fight, do so out in the garden.”

He straightened, just enough to land his own gut punch and McKenzie doubled over too. Malice was only able to just move his head to the left so that McKenzie didn’t butt his forehead into Malice’s skull. “Are you intent upon fighting further?”