Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

“It was nice to meet you as well, Miss Clarissa Walters. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“You won’t,” Goldthwaite grunted. “You can consider our partnership dissolved.”

The duke groaned. “It’s the holiday and your wedding so I am going to let that slide, but I’ll be by tomorrow to discuss this further.”

“No,” Logan answered as he began to move again.

“Please,” the other man added with a laugh.

“You find this funny?” Logan fired back.

“It’s a bit humorous when you think about it. My brother, the calm and collected man, is the one ruining a deal. People always find him charming but today…” The duke shook his head.

Brother? Clarissa’s chin pulled back. How were an earl and a duke brothers? Most odd. But she didn’t ask.

Logan muttered a choice word under his breath. “I don’t care—"

“You should.” The other man was still following them. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s meet at my house. Then all three of us—”

“No.” It was Clarissa’s turn to interrupt. She hadn’t shared much of her past with even Penny. Clarissa had told her friend the money that had financed their trip was from her late father. But Baxter knew the truth on that account. Her father hadn’t left her with a shilling. What if the two men began piecing bits together? And what if they found out someone was attempting to blackmail her? They’d never allow her to be in charge of children if they discovered her past. “Do you need to meet with them at all?”

Logan gave her another long look. “Clarissa,” he said softly. “You were the one who just attempted to up his contribution.”

She dropped her head, not wanting to answer. Because he was right. With startling clarity, she realized that Logan had become the first man she’d trusted in her life. But then again, it was easy with him. He loved Penny, and Clarissa, looking on, could see that love in every glance and touch he gave her friend.

The duke stopped walking toward them, one of his eyebrows cocking up. “I’ll leave you two to chat.” And then he moved around them, heading for the far carriage.

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nbsp; The man knew when to press his advantage, she’d give him that. He also knew when to exit.

Logan ushered her into the vehicle with Penny. The one the couple should have been alone in, enjoying their first moments as man and wife. Guilt stabbed at her chest.

“I’m sorry,” Clarissa said as she took the seat across from Penny. “I didn’t mean to—”

Penny shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Then she reached out and squeezed Clarissa’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Clarissa squeezed back. If she were the sort who cried, she might have a mist in her eyes. Her friend was the kindest person in all of England. “I’m fine.” Part of her wished she could tell Penny everything. All the secrets she’d kept all these years.

Logan snapped the door closed. “He thinks he knows Clarissa from a church in Dover. From six years ago.” Logan looked between the two women. “When and where did you find Clarissa?”

Penny paled as she looked back across at her friend. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Clarissa let out a long sigh. There was little point in lying when Penny knew the truth. “I’m the girl he thinks I am.”

Logan sucked in his breath. “So he isn’t mad after all.”

Clarissa parted her lips to reply, then hesitated. What option did she have? She’d already started telling Logan the truth, and now, she had to continue. She tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “He still jumped into my carriage in the middle of the day. That makes him a bit mad.” Or very valiant. Because today had mirrored more than one fantasy she might have had about the man. No, he didn’t scare a group of children, but in her daydreams, he made some sort of grand gesture and then professed his undying love.

Logan gave a quick nod. “True.” Then he scratched his chin. “Do you think he’s really been looking for you for six years?”

Her stomach twisted. Was it bad that she wanted it to be true? “I don’t know.”

“What happened between the two of you the first time you met?” Penny asked quietly.

Clarissa looked down at her lap. She remembered how strong he’d looked even lying on the cot, near death’s door, and how he’d tried to defend her against Father Byron. Her heart fluttered. “He was dying. Ravaged by fever and barely eating or drinking. He had a wound to his leg, a bayonet slice. I changed his bandages and mopped his brow. Gave him water.”

Logan cleared his throat. “In other words, you cared for him. For how long?”