Chapter 16
“ W e have company, Your Grace!” Cordelia giggled frantically as she furiously pushed her skirts back down.
“I do not care,” Dorian answered easily as he attempted to lift her skirts once more. “And I told you to call me Dorian.”
He dropped down to one knee in front of her and managed to place a single kiss just above her stocking on her inner thigh before Cordelia squealed and shoved him away.
“Dorian, they will hear us!”
“Let them hear. I do not wish them to be here anyway,” Dorian insisted and pushed forward again.
Cordelia took advantage of him being so off-centered. It was not that she did not wish to take advantage of the sight of her husband on his knees, desperately attempting to get between her thighs. She had lost count of how many times he had renewed his claim on her. Her legs had a constant tremble, and they had company .
Besides, as tempting as he was, as much as she enjoyed his company… there was still so much that was left unsaid between them. There was so much that they ignored because this was all that they seemed to ever do. There was not so much room for conversation, not really.
Every time, Cordelia promised herself that she would confront him, that they would have a conversation but then he touched her and she forgot.
“I promised your sister that I would chaperone for her!” Cordelia explained as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. She placed her back firmly against the door, relishing the look of pure frustration on Dorian’s handsome face with no small amount of glee.
“She ought not to have that cad in my house anyway. If you walk out of this room, then I will only be more resolute in my opinion.” Dorian sighed.
“Mr. Hislop has been nothing but kind to Mary, and very generous. I think that she is rather fond of his company.”
“He has already called on her three times. It is excessive,” Dorian insisted.
“Just because you take some sort of perverse pleasure in your loneliness…”
“I would much rather take my pleasure from you.” Dorian reached for her dress, and she knew that the moment he got a hold of her, he would pull her right down onto the floor with him. He had made her blind with pleasure just last night. Though he did not spend the night with her after, he seemed wholly intent on making the most out of every instance of their being alone together.
Cordelia bit down on her bottom lip, debating whether she should add the information that she knew was going to sour his mood. But it might be the only way that she got to leave the room unsullied.
“Do not be angry, but… Matthew has joined Mr. Hislop this time.”
Dorian’s amusement dried instantly, just as she knew that it would. “All the more reason why I should be deep inside of you, lest you forget.”
Heat surged south, her thighs clamping together at the prospect, but she swallowed against her already dry throat. “You are incorrigible.”
“I disagree, I have my priorities in the correct order. It is you that seems to need the reminder.” Dorian’s tone started to lace with authority toward the end. If she did not leave right this instant, she was going to cave, and she knew it.
“You will have to catch me first, Your Grace.”
Cordelia twisted the handle open and ducked out of the room quickly so that she would not second guess the temptation. She practically ran down the hallway to the parlor, where she knew that Mary was waiting for her. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Georgie running around giggling and chose to ignore that as well—she needed to focus and leave Georgie to his governess. She certainly did not need to give any thought to the possibility of being with child at some point herself. With the voracity Dorian seemed to apply to the task, it felt inevitable. Was it not?
Focus, Cordelia.
Smoothing down her dress and hoping that her face was not too flushed, she hurried into the parlor with a bright grin at Mary as she moved to link her friend’s arm with her own. “I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she grinned.
“Not at all,” Mary answered with a quizzical look in Cordelia’s direction. “Are you well, dear? You look flustered.”
She quickly shook her head; this was not the time nor the place to be discussing what she was so flustered about.
“I hope that we have not come at a bad time?” Mr. Hislop asked.
“Not at all! We are thrilled to have you here, please, sit!” Cordelia gestured to the couch and moved to take a seat of her own, still tender from Dorian’s touches when she did. But she felt that she did a good job of concealing it. It was next to impossible to keep from thinking about her husband when she could still feel the ghosts of his hands and… other parts every waking moment. He truly had an insatiable appetite. She did not have it within her to protest when she was enjoying it as thoroughly as she was.
It took less than a minute for Mary and Mr. Hislop to fall into an animated conversation. They were lost in their own world, leaving Cordelia and Matthew to occupy the time in their own way.
“You seem to have adjusted well in the time since I last saw you,” Matthew said.
Somehow, it did not feel like a compliment the way he was phrasing it. She smiled nonetheless. “Thank you, I think so as well. I feel… better.”
“No further issues with your husband?” He asked, not breaking eye contact.
Cordelia’s brow furrowed. “To what issues are you referring, Cousin?”
“I do not mean to be crude, Cordelia, but for a man of his reputation, I have certainly not seen anything about his treatment of you that would make me think he is anything other than the rumors about him,” Matthew explained gently.
But all she could focus on was the part where Dorian was handling her. She shifted and crossed her legs tightly. “I assure you that you have nothing to worry about, but I am grateful for your concern.”
“How much can you truly know about the man that you were forced into marriage with?” He continued. “Other than the fact that he murdered his own father. Only a ruthless man could be capable of such things.”
He… sort of had a point. It was not as if Dorian had been very forthcoming about his past or the things that he had endured with his father. Any time they had even gotten close to his history, the subject was always swiftly changed. There was still so much that he did not trust her with. Of course, she knew that things were progressing between them… but perhaps she ought to question things more.
She offered Matthew a thin-lipped smile and eased back into the couch. Besides, her new relationship with Dorian was still so fragile that she did not wish to put it in jeopardy.
Cordelia opened her mouth to respond to Matthew, but the sound of Mary’s laughter beside them drew both their attention.
"Did you hear what Mr. Hislop just said?" Mary called out, her eyes bright with amusement as she glanced at Cordelia.
“I was telling her about the time I attempted to ride sidesaddle,” Patrick explained, grinning, his humor infectious.
Mary covered her mouth, shaking her head. “He lasted all of ten seconds before falling off and declaring it an impossible feat.”
Cordelia chuckled, the lightness of the moment breaking the tension in the room. “I am surprised you tried at all, Mr. Hislop.”
“Anything for a good story,” Patrick replied, shooting a playful wink in Mary’s direction, which earned him another soft laugh. “Also, I had somewhat lost a bet to Huxton.”
Matthew leaned closer to Cordelia, his voice low. “I do believe your sister-in-law is rather smitten.”
Cordelia smiled but said nothing, watching as Mary’s smile lingered in a way that spoke of more than just passing infatuation.
Later that night, Cordelia lay in her bed, warm and satiated, with the bedding wrapped around her chest. It would only be a few moments before Dorian left her again. He never stayed after they finished. She did not know how to ask him to stay or why he felt that he needed to leave. Dorian shuffled around the bedroom, plucking his shirt and breeches off the floor and dressing very lazily.
Just ask him .
There could not truly be a better time to broach the subject. It could go badly, she knew. But she could not live the rest of her life in the dark. This was a gap that would need to be bridged sooner or later.
Inhaling sharply, she attempted to muster courage the best that she could. What was the worst that could happen? He could shut her down again, and things would be exactly where they were right now.
“Dorian…”
She did not mean for her voice to sound quite so small when she spoke.
“What is it?” Dorian answered as he slipped his legs into his breeches and started to tie the laces around his waist.
Cordelia swallowed, suddenly feeling more vulnerable. “When are we going to talk about… us?” The question hung in the air between them, heavier than she had thought.
Dorian stilled, his fingers pausing. His expression grew guarded, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned away from her. “What about us?”
Cordelia sat up, clutching the edge of the blanket. “Are we to have a real marriage, Dorian? I… I do not know what this is supposed to be between us.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, each one laced with uncertainty. “Do you… care for me? Or are we simply fulfilling obligations?”
Dorian’s eyes darkened as he turned toward her, his usual composure slipping for just a moment. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the emotion was gone, replaced with that familiar mask he wore so effortlessly.
“Cordelia,” he began, his voice steady but evasive, “I have given you everything I can. Is that not enough?”
She shook her head, feeling frustrated by his deflection. “I am not asking for material things, Dorian. I want to know what I mean to you. You never talk about your feelings or…” She trailed off, changing tactics. “I feel like I am in the dark.” She hesitated, then pushed forward. “I deserve to know some things about you.”
His gaze flickered again, tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, it is better this way.”
“No,” she countered, her voice firmer now. “I need something, anything. If you will not tell me how you feel, at least tell me something about your past. Why will you not talk about it? About your father, about the things you have endured? I am your wife, Dorian. I have a right to know.”
Dorian exhaled sharply, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “Some things are better left buried.”
She felt the familiar pang of frustration and helplessness rise within her, but she was not going to let it go. Not this time. “All right,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less insistent. “When can we talk about the greenhouse then?”
Dorian’s brow arched. “What do you mean?”
The way his gaze raked over her semi-nude frame, he knew what she was hinting at. She was talking about the time that they spent there together. Her face flushed, her body warming with the suggestion despite how serious the topic was.
“I mean… why do you keep it chained and off-limits?” Cordelia asked.
There. It was out there. She had asked the question. She could not take it back.
However, the silence in the room instantly grew very uncomfortable as he angrily pulled his shirt over his head. “I do not wish to talk about it.”
“You cannot avoid telling me the truth forever, you know,” Cordelia said gently, hoping that she did not trigger his temper. It was not as if she felt he would lash out, but she did not want to have the subject closed in her face all over again. “You promised not to lie.”
Dorian paused, lingering where he stood before sighing heavily and pinching his brow. “This is not a subject that you are just going to let go, is it?”
Cordelia shook her head.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, facing away from her. She was sorely tempted to close the distance between them. Whatever the reason was, it was obviously a memory that was still painful to him. She did not wish to be rejected if she attempted to offer him comfort. No doubt, it was a foreign concept to him.
“You will not speak of it. Your sister will not speak of it; there is clearly a story there, and nobody will tell me, and I just…” Cordelia attempted to explain why she wanted to know, knowing that she was over-explaining herself.
“My father was a very violent man,” Dorian admitted in a soft voice, but it was very clear that he did not wish to even share that much.
It was an olive branch made of spun sugar. She felt that it would shatter it if she so much as breathed.
“He…” Dorian sighed and shook his head. His hands curled into fists in his lap, pressing into the tops of his thighs like the motion alone was grounding him in the present. “I was something of a soft child. A trait that my father abhorred more than anything else. He would not tolerate anything that he perceived as weakness, least of all from his heir.”
It was such a drastic difference from her own upbringing. Her father was always doting on her, bringing her little gifts and trinkets from his travels. Her mother was not anything like the woman she presently was; she was full of light and loved nothing more than to invent fun little games for them to play together.
“I had a love for animals and farming. I wanted to learn everything that I could about them. Something he thought was wholly foolish and a waste of time. I was… seven or eight when I found a little lamb. He followed me everywhere, and, at night, I would sneak him into my bedroom so that he could sleep with me where it was warm. I do not know what I was thinking. He was the closest thing to a friend that I had had at that age. It went on for weeks, but a boy cannot conceal a lamb’s manure under his bed for long before being discovered by the servants.”
A sense of dread was building in Cordelia’s stomach. No matter where this story went next, it was going to be horrible.
“Well, one afternoon, he waited until I brought the leftovers from my dinner up to my room to share them with the lamb, and my father was there with a butcher knife. He slaughtered him right in front of me. The blood stains never came out of the carpet. It had to be thrown out and burned in the yard.”
Cordelia could not breathe. It was so needlessly cruel. She could not imagine the effect that that must have had on him at such a young age. She could not stop herself from closing the distance between them, throwing her arms around him and pressing her chest against his back as she embraced him. He placed a single hand on her forearm, keeping her there softly.
“He said that I needed to be cured of my softness, no matter what it took. So, he dragged me through the house. I was sure that my arm was going to rip clear out of its socket. He took me into the greenhouse and threw me inside. Those chains on the door were the same ones that my father put on the doors all those years ago. Those doors had not been opened until the other night.”
Just when she thought that it could not possibly get any worse… it did. Horror consumed her.
Just what kind of a monster his father was?
“I was in that greenhouse for… I think five days without seeing a single soul. I drank water from the planters and tried to eat the plants after the first couple of days. Children are not much accustomed to being hungry like that. I eventually had to break open the walls to get out. I do not know what would have happened had I not broken myself free. I would not have been surprised if he intended for me to die there.”
“Dorian…” Cordelia trailed off. What was there to possibly say to such a thing? She could not process it.
“I injured myself on the way out and limped back into the house—where my father was serving lamb for dinner, of course.”
Her hands dropped over his torso, tracing over the scar on his abdomen. “Is that where this came from?”
Dorian froze for a moment, perhaps not expecting the question, and dipped his head in a tight nod. “I was but fourteen when he died.”
Cordelia’s ears perked at the information, and it felt like the air in the room thinned as she waited for him to continue speaking.
“I cannot remember why I was in the parlor with him, I remember him yelling, and how frightened I was that his temper was going to result in another beating. He had… hurled his drink into the fireplace and the glass had shattered.” Dorian trailed off for a moment, seemingly lost in the memory. “He had risen from his seat, screaming that I had forced him to make a mess, that I needed to clean it up… but there was glass all over the carpet and I did not wish to cut my knees. He towered in front of me, screaming until he was red in the face and then he had just… collapsed, gasping on the floor and clawing desperately at his chest.”
What was she supposed to say to that?
“He demanded that I help him… and the demanding turned to whispered pleading, and I just… stood there. I watched him take his very last breaths until I was sure that he could never hurt Mary or me again…”
“I am so, so sorry that that happened to you,” Cordelia said. It did not feel anywhere near sufficient of a thing to say for the magnitude of what he had just shared with her. She wished that she could make it better or somehow erase such a traumatic event from his memory.
“Yes, well. Now you know. The rumors spread about my father, and I simply never bothered to deny it. But I cannot stay here any longer,” Dorian said as he slid from her arms and left the room so swiftly it felt like he took all of the warmth in the room with him.