Marquess of Malice (Lords of Scandal 2)

Chad reached for her shoulders both holding her up and guiding her back down to the pillow. “They’ll give you the laudanum soon and I’ll have to leave you if you don’t promise yourself to me.”

She looked up at him. “I’m not questioning your ability to be a suitable husband.”

He grimaced. “I’ve come to hate that word.”

Despite the pain, she smiled. “I question my ability to keep you involved. I’m not very…” She didn’t even know what word she looked for. Attractive? Interesting?

“Cordelia,” he spoke before she could find the correct word. “You’re very…everything. Don’t you forget that because it’s never been a question. The only problem here is me. But I’m working on it and once I’ve shared my story with you perhaps you can help me. If anyone is kind enough to understand how, it’s you.”

Her heart clenched even as her mouth fell open as she sucked in a breath. “You don’t have to change for me. I just, I want to make sure that the man I choose doesn’t want someone else. My whole life…”

“Cordelia,” he gently brushed her hair back from her face. “Please trust me when I say no one has twisted me into such knots. I want you.”

His confession did make her feel good. The question was, was it enough? She looked at him, the hard lines of his face, the muscles that even now flexed. She thought of the way he’d caught her and put himself in harm’s way by holding onto her and taking the hit from McKenzie. “I consent. I’ll marry you.”

He leaned back, his shoulders relaxing. “Good girl.”

Her brow crinkled. She wasn’t being a good girl. She wanted to be a woman. One who inspired love.

“It’s time for your medicine. We’ll get you better in no time.” The doctor came toward her holding a cup.

“I think I’d prefer not to take it actually,” she grimaced. She didn’t want to slip away. She and Chad were discussing important facets of their future.

Chad stroked her cheek. “Cordelia has consented to be my wife. I request permission to stay with her whilst she recovers.”

“She has!” Her mother clapped in the corner. “What wonderful news. A duke and now a marquess in the family. I don’t see why you can’t stay, though I will check with my husband once he returns. At some club you know.”

The doctor reached behind her head and brought the cup to her lips. “Don’t you worry now. This will speed your recovery and now you’ve a watch person. You’ll be healed in no time.”

“Chad,” she closed her lips, mumbling around the edge of the cup. “I don’t want to take it.”

He clenched his teeth. “Does she really need to?”

The doctor gave a nod. “The mixture will help her sleep and sleep will encourage healing.”

She let out a sigh and opened her mouth. “You’ll stay?” For now, she’d focus on healing. Despite the fact they’d agreed to marry, she had the impression this conversation was far from over.

Chapter Eleven

Chad sat by Cordelia’s bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as the early morning sun filtered in through her windows.

There had been a bit of activity when her father had finally arrived home at the Chase townhouse and learned that a man had taken up watch in his daughter’s bedroom. He’d had to assure Lord Winthrop that he’d marry his daughter posthaste before the man calmed, which was not much of a promise on Malice’s part. He’d intended to expedite the process anyhow. There were advantages to being a marquess and this happened to be one of them.

Another benefit was that Lady Winthrop supported the match wholeheartedly and had bodily placed herself between Malice and her inebriated husband. Malice had said little, allowing Cordelia’s mother to do most of the talking.

He’d learned a thing or two about handling drunk men from his days running the club. He also recognized Winthrop as a frequent customer at his establishment. He was more than a little relieved the man hadn’t recognized him. They wore masks at the club, of course. And they’d floated more than one rumor that they were actually pirates, rather than lords, but still. The small domino that covered his face surely allowed a more discerning customer to recognize his identity. Then again, most men were well into their cups b

y the time Malice began circulating the floor.

He ran a hand through his hair. He’d slept a little last night, but he was tired enough that even his scalp hurt.

Drawing in a long breath, he looked to his right. There sat an open book on Cordelia’s desk.

Without thinking he picked it up and read the half-filled page. He smiled as he realized it was a fictional scene of their actual dance and their kiss from the night before. Flipping back several pages, he read through the story, grinning widely. He was clearly the hero of this tale, and McKenzie was just an annoying complication. He sat up straighter, his tiredness vanishing and his chest swelling with pride.

And not just because he was her love interest after all. The story was wonderful. The characters dancing off the page and capturing him. But perhaps that was because he was one of them.

He had a niggle of doubt about the ethics of what he was doing but he flipped to the front of the book and read another story. One where he surely wouldn’t be featured.