Chapter 7
“ Y ou scared me half to death!” Cordelia gasped, clutching at her chest once more. She braced an arm against the door she had just closed as she attempted to steady herself.
“I do not understand your surprise, wife. This is our wedding night, is it not?” Dorian said flatly with an insinuation that she did not immediately place.
“And you are standing half-bathed in shadows! Do you have no concept of how terrifying that is?” Cordelia responded instantly. His only answer was to arch his brow at her in curiosity. As if it was perfectly natural for him to be standing here in the first place.
Silence stretched between them, and she found insecurity starting to creep into her mind once more. He did not offer any explanation or words that might put her at ease. It was almost as if he relished in her discomfort.
“I thought that this was simply to be a marriage of convenience,” she said finally. It was the only reason that she could think of for him to have come into her room like this. Though, if he expected her to perform her marital duties, she was wholly and utterly unprepared. She did not know what to… Cordelia severed that line of thought right away. He had already told her that he had no intentions of siring an heir.
“What gave you that idea?” Dorian asked, stepping toward her just enough that the silver beams of moonlight peeking in through the parted drapes licked over his profile, giving him something akin to a glow. What was it about him that she was so drawn to? “I do not recall any part of our limited conversations in which I said that I did not desire to consummate this marriage properly.”
She felt rooted to where she stood on the carpet. It was hard to breathe when he was so close. Perhaps, on some level, she ought to have been afraid of him, but she simply was not. Even after his housekeeper had assured her that the rumors of his being a murderer were all but confirmed.
Dorian lifted a hand, letting his knuckles run down the outside of her arm but not moving any closer than that. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch, and she did not dare shudder. The last thing she should want to do was to invite his attention further, but even in this low lighting, he was so handsome. It ought to have been a sin to look the way that he did while having such a dour personality.
“Do you doubt who you belong to, Cordelia? You vowed yourself to me, body, mind, and soul. It was only this afternoon. Do not tell me that you have already forgotten?” Dorian said in a low tone, his words smooth like butter as they rolled off of his tongue.
He had done this last time as well. This strange transformation into somebody that set her skin aflame the moment that they were alone together.
“I am more than happy to remind you if you need it,” he said, his eyes lifting from where they had been watching his fingers trace over her skin and snapped up to meet her gaze.
Cordelia’s breath hitched as if being trapped under his gaze was enchanting; it enthralled her and set her heart pounding. What a silly reaction.
“Di-did you truly murder your own father?” She blurted, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. It was the only thing that she could think of that would lessen… whatever that was that was building between them.
It worked.
She might as well have dumped a bucket of water over his handsome head. Dorian’s hand dropped, and he nearly jerked a half step away from her. His hands moved to clasp together behind his back. That fire that had been burning so brightly in his eyes a moment ago was absent now. “Yes. I did not do anything that my father did not deserve.”
She blinked. Knowing that it could be true and hearing the words from his own mouth was another thing entirely. He did not seem even the slightest bit remorseful. Was it truly so easy for him to extinguish a life? Had it not left a mark on his soul as it would for most others? The small, tiny part of her that had been clinging to the hope that it was all merely rumors fizzled out.
“Are you afraid, Little Flower?” Dorian asked, his face somehow transformed into something truly frightening.
She could not look at him. Fear and something else mixed within her as he closed the slim distance between them. She quickly averted her gaze, but he caught her face and forced it back center once more. He seemed to be looking for something in her expression that he simply could not find. When he found her wanting, his lip curled, not in disgust but something close to it. Disappointment? Had she failed whatever little test this was?
“I shall give you a week to adjust, but then I intend on claiming what is mine and mine alone, Little Flower. You ought to prepare yourself for the occasion.”
Dorian released her and stormed out of the room. She could still feel the burning of his firm grip long after he left. She did not know just how long it was that she stood there, mutely staring at the door.
A week certainly did not feel like enough.
When she did manage to drag her weary body into bed after locking the door—she could not sleep a wink.
The busy work of the estate was not quite enough to distract her from the fact that the days were passing. She thought that if she was productive, the ominous, not quite threat, of only having a week would feel less overbearing.
Cordelia and Mary settled at a small wooden table on the terrace with a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. Mary poured steaming tea into delicate china cups.
“Do you think I am overdoing it?” Cordelia asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “I have thrown myself into organizing the estate, but sometimes I wonder if I am just keeping busy to avoid–”
Cordelia hesitated. Did she have the right to express her reservations about her marriage? Dorian was Mary’s brother, after all. Perhaps that was crossing the line.
“–thinking too much?” Mary finished for her, her tone light but knowing. “Oh, I think we all do that from time to time. Look at Georgie; he can hardly sit still long enough to finish his toast.”
Cordelia chuckled softly. “True enough. But you know, I sometimes wish I could sneak out and spend a few hours in the garden, tending to the flowers. I miss that. It is where I felt the most at ease.”
Mary’s eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion before she quickly sipped her tea, diverting the conversation. “The garden is quite lovely, is it not? I heard from the gardener that the roses will be in full bloom soon. Perhaps you could arrange a small gathering when they do.”
“Yes, a gathering would be lovely, but…” Cordelia hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “But it would feel strange to have anyone here right now. The duke and I are still–”
“–in your honeymoon period!” Mary interjected cheerily, her smile bright but perhaps a little too forced. “And what better way to celebrate that than with some quiet time together? Just the two of you.”
“Yes, of course,” Cordelia said slowly, sensing the change in the air. “But sometimes, I wonder if I should reach out to my friends. It has been ages since we have had tea together, and I feel rather isolated here.”
“Isolation can be nice, don’t you think?” Mary said, her tone shifting slightly. “A respite from the endless chatter of society. Besides, Georgie has been a handful; I cannot imagine you wanting to bring that chaos into your gathering.”
Cordelia raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing her sister-in-law when she spoke. “You think I would invite Georgie?”
Mary laughed a genuine sound that eased some of the tension. “Oh, perhaps not! But you must admit, inviting people over just now would be a little inappropriate.”
“Yes, but I could use a little… something,” Cordelia said, her voice softening. “It might bring some life back into the estate. Instead, I am stuck with organizing old ledgers and supervising repairs. I thought running the estate would be… different.”
Mary looked thoughtful for a moment, then quickly changed the subject. “And speaking of repairs, I heard the roof of the stable needs attention. Have you seen that yet? It would be a shame if it fell in on Georgie while he was playing at being a horseman.”
Cordelia nodded, though the mention of the stable made her heart sink further. “I will have it looked at. But, Mary, I–”
“–would not want to burden my brother with that,” Mary interrupted again, this time with a hint of urgency in her voice. “After all, it is a lovely day, and we should savor our tea while we can.”
“So what sort of things would be appropriate to bother your brother about?” Cordelia asked, trying her very best to keep her irritation out of her voice. “I feel like I know so little about him still. Perhaps if you could give me some more insight? Or, perhaps, a way that I can connect with his grace more easily? If I could understand him better, or his history then maybe–”
“You would have to ask his grace yourself, I am afraid. It is not my place.”
“It is not your place? Did you not share a history with him? Your childhood might have been uncomfortable, but–”
“You ought not to inquire about painful things, Cordelia, and I hope that in this setting I can continue to speak informally with you, but there are simply some things that are better left in the past,” Mary said gently, but firmly.
“I try not to press about young Georgie or his father or what might have happened there because I am trying not to be insensitive or make you uncomfortable, but it seems that the list of topics I am not allowed to speak about is growing longer than my arm. How can anyone navigate with such restrictions?” Cordelia huffed.
Mary did not answer that time. The silence between them grew uncomfortable as Mary stared deeply into the teacup in front of her. Cordelia could not help but to feel more and more like an outsider each day she was here. Like she had not yet managed to earn enough of their trust to be allowed any insight to their history.
When Mary spoke again, it was abundantly clear that the conversation was closed, and needed to shift in another direction.
“Perhaps this afternoon you would like to accompany me to Georgie’s riding lesson again? He only goes in circles just yet, but the weather is just too nice today to be cooped up indoors, do you not agree?”
“Right,” Cordelia said, feeling a hint of frustration but keeping her tone light. “Tea and sunshine, the perfect way to ignore all worries.”
It was harder and harder to have a serious conversation with her when she insisted on changing the subject every time that things even broached a ‘too serious’ subject.
“Exactly!” Mary exclaimed, raising her cup. “To ignoring worries, then!”
“To ignoring worries,” Cordelia echoed, clinking her cup against Mary’s but wishing she could be more honest about her restlessness.
What Cordelia was unwilling to even attempt to ask was why the greenhouse was so forbidden. She had snuck down there the other day just to see if she could sense what all of the fuss was about. The doors were chained shut, and from the rust on the chain, it seemed to have been that way for a very long time. There was too much grime on the windows, and she could see nothing beyond the untended, long, withered plants that seemed to have been left there to rot from neglect.
It was the same greenhouse that she could see now out of the corner of her eye. It was like she was inexplicably drawn to it.
More of her attraction to the dangerous or forbidden, she supposed. Fitting, with Dorian in the same house. It was the same for him, was it not? She could not deny herself the allure of him, frightening or not.
The one task that she knew would ease some of the weight in her heart was the one thing that everyone kept telling her that she was not allowed, under any circumstances, to do.
Being off-limits did not make the greenhouse any less appealing.
Everything in this estate seemed to be a secret wrapped in an enigma and all forced up onto a shelf that she was not allowed to touch.
The cup of tea in her hands had gone cold quite some time ago. The two women stared out at Georgie, watching him silently.
“Mary, do you know anything about the duke’s acquaintanceship with my father by any chance?” She asked finally, moving just enough to place her tea on the small metal table that rested between them.
Surely, this was a neutral topic to gain insight about.
It took Mary a moment to shift her focus from her son. “I beg your pardon, what did you ask me?”
Cordelia smiled. “I was just asking if you happened to know my father or the business dealings that he had with the duke?”
Mary tilted her head, attempting to remember. “My brother, understandably, does not involve me in his business ventures very often. It is a rare thing that I even meet any of his contacts. He usually prefers to handle all things of that nature on his own.”
“I see.” Cordelia nearly sagged into her chair. “I had hoped that maybe it was a closer relationship than I presumed. He said that it was because of my father that we were to be wed in the first place.”
Mary eyed her curiously but did not comment.
Cordelia did not dare approach the duke himself with the subject, not yet. She certainly was not comfortable enough for something like that.
“I suppose that it is good he can stand up for some morals,” Mary muttered into the brim of her teacup. It was so softly said that Cordelia was not entirely certain if it was meant for her to have heard in the first place.
“Hm?” Cordelia questioned, giving Mary the chance to shy away from the topic.
Instead, Mary smiled at her with a thin-lipped smile. “Nothing, do not mind me. I know not of what I speak.”
Perhaps there was more between Mary’s relationship with her brother than it appeared on the surface.