Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

“Or you could get out,” the man returned. “And I could continue with my wedding breakfast.” Then he paused. “Which you are no longer invited to.”

“Bloody hell,” Bash said from behind Goldthwaite. “I told you not to cause a scene.”

“You knew he’d try to compromise Clarissa?” Goldthwaite let go of Clarissa and turned back to Bash. “Why did you let him come?”

“Even I didn’t know he’d be that much of an egit. But he’s been looking for a Clarissa that he met while he was wounded in the basement of a church in Dover for the past six years. Thinks she’s her. I keep telling him that he dreamed the girl.”

But Goldthwaite’s eyes flashed back to Clarissa and they held…a question. He knew that Clarissa had been there.

Triumph surged in Mason’s blood. “She saved my life,” he said to Goldthwaite. It was in the other man’s power to never allow him to step foot near Clarissa again. “And now I want to repay the favor. That’s it.” It was a lie. She was cared for and he’d come for more than that. He knew he was acting irrational, mad even. But he’d looked for so long and then he’d been afraid she’d married and…

Clarissa jolted next to him. He felt the sudden movement shake through him.

Then she began to scramble up, as though possessed, trying to get away from him. He reached out and grabbed her hip with his free hand. “Settle now.”

She stilled but her breathing was harsh. This was the woman who’d threatened him with a pistol. Who’d taken his cane straight from his hand. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. But she was frightened out of her wits now. Why? What had he said?

“I don’t need your help,” she said, her hand coming over his. “Do you understand?”

Using the handle, he pulled himself up. “No. I don’t actually. Not at all.”

Her hands came to his chest, the touch causing a streak of lightning to course through his veins. But then she pushed off him and rose from her spot on the floor. “Too bad,” she mumbled and then took Goldthwaite’s hand and let him help her down from the carriage. “Goodbye.” She huffed as Goldthwaite set her down. Spinning, she slammed the door shut and banged on the side of the vehicle. Like that, the carriage, which he was now alone in, began to rumble down the street.

Clarissa knew there were going to be questions.

Honestly, she questioned herself. Because part of her had wanted to ride off in that carriage with him. And that frightened her most of all.

She wished she were a better person. The sort that could pursue a life with a handsome lord who’d spent years searching especially for her. The very idea he had, filled her with light and hope.

But Clarissa wasn’t the sort of person who could take that life. She’d done far too many terrible things…

She watched the carriage until it disappeared, not looking back at Logan. She wasn’t ready to answer them. Her thoughts swirled with emotions that she couldn’t quite name.

“He’s not dangerous,” the other man said. “At least, I don’t think so. He hasn’t been in the six years I’ve known him.”

Logan harrumphed. “He’s stark raving mad if you ask me.” Then he tugged on her elbow. “Come on.”

She turned back then, grateful Logan would hold his tongue until they’d left this stranger’s company. Logan began marching her and the girls down the street.

“Wait,” the other man called. “I’ll double my contribution to the orphanage if you don’t pull out of the club.”

“I don’t need your money,” Logan gritted out, still moving away.

But Clarissa spun back to the other man. If she could get an orphanage up and running, perhaps the guilt inside would ease and she could finally move past the sins of her past and into a future. Her captain’s face rose into her thoughts again but she pushed the vision of him away. “Triple.”

“You can’t negotiate on my behalf,” Logan groaned. “I don’t want any part of that club and I can finance the orphanages myself.”

Clarissa came to a halt, turning back toward Logan. “You’re that rich?” She was sure Penny knew the details of all this, but her friend hadn’t shared that with her. They’d been busy planning the wedding and celebrating the fact they no longer lived in the East End of London where life had been a daily struggle.

“The richest,” the other man answered. “And the smartest too. I’m the Duke of Devonhall, by the way. And I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Clarissa…I’m afraid I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Walters,” she lied. It was Penny’s last name. Hers was Hershel. But she didn’t want these men to be able to find anything about her. Not that it mattered, she supposed. If Logan could finance them, she could begin her new life.

Would Logan help her with the blackmail? Shame stole her breath. Then she’d have to tell him and Penny about all the terrible things she’d done. Could she tell the Earl of Baxter who she really was? Her head dipped down. She couldn’t. What if he asked how she’d managed to escape? Would she be able to lie to him again? Did she want to? “It was very nice to meet you, Your Grace.”

The duke stared at her and she became aware his eyes were the exact color and shape of the Earl of Baxter’s. How odd. And disconcerting. It was like he was still staring at her with that intense gaze.

And on another man, she understood, there was nothing dangerous in those eyes, the Earl of Baxter’s were just…full of zeal. He’d said he wished to help her. But would he still feel that way if he knew the truth?