"Remind me again, my dear, why you are planning this?" Lord Kentwood asked as he reclined in the chair closest to the fire early the next morning, not at all fond of seeing the stressed lines upon the Dowager Countess' face as she paced up and down the length of the room.
It was not yet sunrise, but when his valet roused him from sleep telling of the distressed state of Lady Mayfield urgently requesting his presence, he was awake in a moment.
Now they were together in the drawing room, and he watched as she continued to pace restlessly, her mind undoubtedly thinking through every possible situation. "They need to speak to one another but in a manner that does not seem premeditated. But it has to be this morning, for he leaves for Midrake today."
"Well, I cannot think of much we can do to convince him to remain for the day. I noticed Cordelia's behaviour towards him last night. He most definitely is not in her good graces."
"I know, and it is all my fault!" she exclaimed as she threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "I need to think of a way, but I have no idea what may work."
Knowing how important her niece's happiness was to her, Lord Kentwood twisted his lips in thought before an idea suddenly struck him. "Why not invite him to my shooting party? He shall never suspect that."
Lady Mayfield paused. "Shooting . . . Of course, he will suspect that! Because he is to be invited to Mayfield, and we all know who is currently residing here." She raised a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "He will refuse to come," she sighed.
The Duke drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair, aiming an encouraging smile towards his love. "You forget that I have a golden tongue, my dear. I will convince him to join us."
Her glance towards him proved that she highly doubted that.
He smiled cheekily then. "If I could convince you to marry me, my stubborn love. I am certain I can convince him to join us for a little shooting party. Make no mistake about that. I shall ensure he is here, whether it be by hook or by crook."
* * *
The sunshine fell across Cordelia's face, causing her to mumble as she turned on her side to escape its rousing rays. She wished to return to her blissful slumber, but the sun was persistent if ever it was, and she eventually sighed and sat up in her bed, running a hand through the messy tangle of curls atop her head.
The morning had just begun to fill her room with its radiant glow, casting away all remnants of the night and dismal thoughts that came with the silence of it. Birds twittered happily outside her window and the quiet trickle of the river just beyond seemed extra bubbly. It felt as though the world was overly joyful this morning like there was not a care to be had.
That alone made her want to draw the covers over her head and go back to sleep.
How dare nature decide to celebrate by mocking her misery? Why did it have to rub her unhappiness in her face by choosing to be the happiest-looking morning of the year?
She only had to look at the previous night's events to realize how her life had become. How pathetic she had become. She had loved the Marquis before she even knew it. She would dare to say that it was when they were still children that she fell in love with him.
But he was not a man she should have loved.
She had thought that she had finally forgotten about him. After so many months, she had wished that she did. But it was impossible to forget a man like the Marquis. And try as she might, she still could not dispel her feelings for him.
However, she would not forget all the wrongs he had made against her either.
It felt as though her heart and mind were in a constant battle. Her heart knew that it could never love another in the way that it loved him. The one that reminded her of all the times he eased her pain of missing her family and how he had protected her from his own father. Not to mention all the feelings that his mere presence would evoke within her and the way that one look could steal her breath away.
But her mind was the voice of reason, reminding her in vivid detail precisely why she should not love him, why she should not give in to the desires of her heart. It recalled the subtle ways he had behaved towards her while she was in his home, of how he would tell her to take the passageways for no one to see her like she was a mere servant. But most of all, she was reminded of that night he sent her from his home without a chaperone or any assistance for her predicament—only vicious words as her departing gift.
The embarrassment she had then felt when she heard the rumours about her and the possible circumstances which caused the Marquis to react in such a violent manner. It could only have meant that she must have caused him great insult.
She would not forget that.
A soft knock came to the door, and when she called, Martha entered shortly after with a bowl of warm water. "Good morning, Miss Cordelia," she stated as she walked towards her bedside table.
"Morning, Martha," she greeted, her flat tone letting it be known that she was not in the happiest of moods.
"Her Ladyship asked me to choose a special gown for you this morning," Martha stated as she placed the bowl down and then made her way to the wardrobe.
Cordelia frowned at that and slunk further into her bedding. "Why?"
The old woman glanced at her briefly. "Why the Duke's shooting party begins this morning, and the last of the guests are due to arrive shortly."
"Oh, yes. I remember now," she replied with absolutely no enthusiasm.
Silence remained prominent in the room as the old maid went about choosing a suitable outfit, and once she had done so, she returned to the bed and laid the gown before her.
"Come along now, Miss Cordelia. You must rise. I need to do your hair."
Cordelia watched her maid's expectant eyes with a look of suspicion. But when Martha urged her up, she sighed and did as she was told.
With expert fingers, it took next to no time at all for her to be ready for the morning, and she could not help but notice the extra care that Martha had taken with her appearance.
"Who is all going to be at this party, Martha?"
Her fingers froze for a few seconds before she quickly shook her head. "Only the usual people," she stated with a timid laugh.
Cordelia did not find it amusing at all, knowing full well that something was going on of which she was painfully unaware. But she spoke no more on the subject and allowed Martha to do the finishing touches on her dress before she was eventually deemed suitable enough to leave the room.
The empty hallway echoed with their footsteps, and Cordelia could just make out the distant sound of chattering men as she began to descend the staircase. In the entrance foyer, she noticed several coated figures standing there, among them were Lord Kentwood, her brother, George, Lord Topham, and . . .
Her feet stopped in their tracks.
"We were worried that you would not be able to join us, Midrake," Lord Topham stated with a laugh as he clapped his hand on his shoulder.
"I was not going to join, but the Duke was insistent," the Marquis responded with a dry tone, showing a clear unwillingness to be present.
"Of course, I am insistent. I have only a few more days of freedom, and I wish to make the most of it!" the Duke replied with a smile, though it could be seen that there were no ill meanings to his words.
He held the Dowager Countess in such high regard that he would happily be shackled for the rest of his life in the grimmest dungeon if she told him that it would make her happy.
The thought made Cordelia's heart twist with anguish. Why could she not have experienced something similar? Something so warm and pure and true? She thought she had, but it turned out to be nothing more than subterfuge.
The Marquis seemed to smile at the Duke's jest, but the light did not reach his eyes. He glanced over the men surrounding him as though he was both bored and anxious before his gaze suddenly settled on her.
His smile dropped from his features completely, and he seemed to draw in a breath at the sight of her. For the briefest second, he almost looked as though he wanted to approach her, and for unknown reason, she waited to let him.
But then he averted his gaze back to the gentlemen, and she felt as though ice had been thrown down her back. Her cheeks flushed red, and she gritted her teeth with irritation at herself as she turned and quickly made her way down the hallway towards the morning room where breakfast was to be served.
Stupid fool, she admonished herself as she walked at a brisk pace, painfully aware of the feeling of a gaze on her back.
She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she finally entered the morning room, only to notice that all the ladies present in the house were already seated and waiting to be served. The Dowager looked towards her as she entered and smiled in greeting.
"Good morning, Cordelia. I was worried you would miss breakfast," she stated pleasantly as she watched her take a seat across from her at the table. "That is a very nice gown that you are wearing."
Cordelia glanced at her and nodded once. "Thank you."
The tenseness that the young lady brought with her was unmistakable, and the Dowager looked at her daughter-in-law and Lady Topham with a bewildered expression.
Alicia cleared her throat gently. "I was wondering if you would like to assist me with my design for my latest needlework this morning, Cordelia? I was quite inspired by what I saw when we travelled South, and I wanted to infuse that in my design. Unfortunately, I was never the best about making ideas into solid creations."
Cordelia kept her gaze focused on her dining plate but nodded once more. "I will assist you with that. It will not be a problem."
The grim tone of her voice perplexed the ladies even more, and the Dowager twisted her lips in silent pain, knowing that she was the cause of such misgivings. Unfortunately, with the sour mood that her niece seemed to be in, she was feeling less hopeful about whether she would be able to repair the rift that she had unintentionally caused.
* * *
"Oh, that is much better already!" Alicia gasped later that morning as she surveyed the pencilled design on the cloth. "You certainly have a talent, Cordelia."
"And here I thought you were always the talented one," she replied with a kind smile as they sat close to the fire that assisted in warding off the chill of the autumn day.
Alicia batted a hand near her face. "It was all practice. I have no natural talent for such things. Thankfully, George is not too perturbed by that."
Cordelia was silent for a moment as she regarded her friend. They had been married for several months now, but she had never had a quiet moment with her friend to discuss what it was like to be married to the Earl of Mayfield. And, to be honest, if she did not see them with her own eyes, she would never have believed that they were well-matched.
She lowered her gaze back to the fabric before them as she helped Alicia select the correct shade of green for the leaf pattern. "And . . . how is it being married to George? Does he treat you well?"
Alicia laughed at her friend's question. "Does it still come as a surprise to you that we are married, Cordelia?"
She shrugged. "Everyone was surprised, and I just . . . I cannot see how you two . . . What I mean is—"
"You do not think that we are compatible?" Alicia finished with a knowing expression on her face. "I have received many similar accounts. I know what George may appear like to most people, but . . . he is a kind and loving husband. Yes, he is not romantic like the man I always envisioned I would marry, but I am truly happy with him."
Cordelia lowered her gaze. "If you did not envision marrying him, how did you know that he was the man you would marry?"
"I did not realize it immediately. If you remember, your brother was vying for my attention at that time. George was . . . very silent, always in the background. And yet, whenever I needed someone, he was there. He did not offer much consolation and what he did say often sounded quite abrupt and rude, but I learnt to see past that and came to realize that he was trying to display that he cared for me in the only way that he knew how. You know that he was the one who spoke to my father, and organised the engagement to be cancelled. I was not aware of it until one morning I woke up to find that my fiancé had left with no word of ever returning for me."
Cordelia was startled upon hearing that. "How did he achieve that?"
Alicia raised her shoulders. "I do not know myself, but I suppose my father must have seen that he was interested in winning my favour, and an Earl is a far greater prospect as a son-in-law to a usual businessman. But whatever the reasoning, I am glad it worked out the way it did, for I could not be happier. Oh, I must tell you a bit about our travels!"
And so for the next hour, Cordelia sat in silence as she listened to her friend ramble on about all the sites they visited and the people they met on their month-long journey. Usually, Cordelia would have been more riveted by the descriptions, but she could not find it within herself to concentrate on what seemed so insignificant, her mind full of other thoughts.
"And you will not believe who else we saw, Cordelia. Why, it was Lord Tilbur! Do you remember him? He said that he was busy preparing for a long voyage to the continent. Of course, we had to ask him how he managed to do that since it is no secret that he was living on borrowed money, and he admitted to us that Lord Midrake was funding his travels. Can you believe that? Of course the—"
"Lord Midrake?" Cordelia asked with a startled expression, causing her friend to pause in her monologue. "Why would he do that?"
"Well, he willingly paid his debts and funded his excursion on account that he receives a percentage of what is gained. A well-thought plan, if you ask me. He will certainly gain all his money back through such a deal, I am certain of it."
Cordelia was shocked. She had thought that he would have wanted nothing to do with the Viscount after their behaviour in his home. Of course, her brother had said something along similar lines, but at least there was a more palpable reason for it now. Alicia was right. It was a very well-thought-out plan indeed.
"And you will not guess what else we heard," Alicia smiled secretively. "We met with Lady Wilberton one day. I am not certain if you know her but she was a close friend to Lady Midrake. Well, we found out from her the true reason why she had left so abruptly for Paris."
"True reason?" she asked suspiciously. "As far as I'm aware, she left because she was tired of the stifling London air."
"That is what she wanted everyone to think, but the truth is her son threatened her into leaving."
"Why would he do such a thing?"
"I am not too certain myself. However, I do have a suspicion that it has something to do with the Viscount as well. Since this all happened not too long after . . . that situation by Midrake. But I believe that your aunt may know more about it than me."
Cordelia frowned at that. "Why would she know about their personal affairs?"
Alicia shrugged. "I do not know for certain, but I do know that she had sent a groom immediately after you arrived in London. Perhaps he had heard of something and reported it back to her. I tried to find out myself what happened, but I never heard anything more than the accounts that you and the driver of the carriage gave me."
A memory suddenly struck Cordelia then. She had just recovered from her illness. It was the day they were planning to leave when the Marquis came knocking on the door and the argument that had ensued between the Countess and himself. She had ushered him outside before she heard the full argument, and she wondered if that was when she discovered everything.
She did not know why the thought had not crossed her mind before to question her aunt on the altercation, but she supposed then, all she wished to do was forget that the Marquis ever existed.
But she realized then in that moment, that if she ever truly wanted to find peace within her life, she would need to put this matter to rest once and for all.
FUN FACT: Shooting parties could last from a weekend up to several weeks and included in the activities would be shooting of game birds and fox hunting. These parties would occur over the fall and winter months, and shooting was regarded not only as a sport but also as exercise.