A Sense of Propriety

Chapter 33

Cordelia could only stare at the papers in silence, astonished at the sheer passion in each word and emotion woven into each sentence. She did not register the sound of her racing heart or trembling hands, but only one thought seemed to cross her mind.

All this time . . . he had held onto her letter. A letter that she thought he had never received.

He had loved her all along. Surely, a man would never have kept something as trivial as a piece of paper unless he was in love with her.

Oh, Martha. Her dearly devoted friend. She must have raced to the docks to catch him before he left, knowing how important it was. Cordelia had thought that she had missed him that day the carriage left his home before Martha could reach it. And it struck her then that she had never asked for the letter to be returned to her, the upheaval of moving once again allowing it to slip her mind completely.

If she had . . . she would have known then that he did receive it.

No wonder the Marquis did not hold a grudge against her when they met again so many years later, something that had always perplexed her. Of course, he could have still been soured towards her, but if he had kept her letter for so many years . . .

The passion with which she felt her emotions was so great that she very nearly fainted at the joy of it all. He loved her! He truly loved her.

And she had rejected him once again.

With a gasp, she realised the consequences of her actions just as she heard the familiar sound of horse and hound approaching the house.

Slowly, lovingly, she placed the letters gently upon her bedside table before rising from the bed to rush from her room. She needed to see him, speak to him before all was lost.

She ignored the curious glances of servants as she rushed past them, aware that it was terribly unladylike to be rushing about her home. But she did not care, only one thing mattered to her in that moment.

She came to the top of the staircase just as the party was entering the entrance hall. There was the usual jesting and compliments on superb shots as she slowly walked down the stairs, barely noticing her aunt and Lady Topham approach the party.

"I trust your morning proved successful, gentlemen?" the Dowager stated with a smile as she glanced towards her fiancé.

"It was splendid," he replied with a charming smile of his own before gesturing to the Marquis. "Midrake here is an excellent shot. Though I am not surprised after spending so many years in the cavalry."

Cordelia had reached her aunt's side by the time Lord Kentwood had directed the attention to the Marquis, and she felt her breath steal from her lungs when their gazes connected. Everything within her alit upon her face, and her cheeks, flushed from her haste, grew warmer still under his attention.

But his expression was shuttered, impenetrable to her beseeching gaze. He watched her calmly, not moving a muscle though his gaze was intent upon her, his stormy grey eyes moving slowly over her expression, unable to deny that the flush to her reddened cheeks offered such an endearing picture that he wished to remember it always.

A sudden clap to his shoulder forced him from his appraisal, and he turned to look at the Duke who smiled warmly in return. "Since you were by far the best shot of the day, you must join us this evening."

Cordelia's heart raced in anticipation, and she wished to voice her approval for such a notion. She needed to speak to him, though she could not state it so openly with all the people surrounding her. It would not look well on her if she asked for a private audience with him either.