Chapter Twenty-One
Cordelia’s china teacup was rattling so much in its saucer that she thought it might break. Bea, who was showing off her pouring skills, was befuddled trying to aim the stream of tea into its shallow mouth. Holding her breath, Bea ended up pouring some of the steaming drink onto Cordelia’s dress.
“Stop shaking so much!” she complained. Reaching forward, Cordelia deposited the cup and saucer onto the side table.
“Poor dear! I am positively distressed at the scare you must have had! Why! Whatever would have possessed you to do such a thing?” Lady Billings’s voice was loud and insistent and rang through her skull.
Desperate to give her hands something to do, she reached for a plate of biscuits, stuffing one into her mouth to prevent her from answering.
“We have been feeling very nostalgic for our childhood, Lady Billings,” Portia answered steadily. Not only did the Nichols girls have a penchant for getting into danger, they were also brilliant at lying, Cordelia realized. If only she had the ability to believe their fibs.
“Well, nostalgia aside, we simply cannot allow further scandal and danger to be inflicted upon this family! Rhys, tell them,” Lady Billings said, popping a madeleine into her wide mouth.
“Indeed,” Rhys said. He was standing across the room, eyeing the sisters with an amused expression. “You know how important you are to me. All of you.”
Cordelia had a mouthful of burning hot tea before she was finished chewing her biscuit, washing everything down in one gulp.
She tapped her foot, refusing to meet Rhys’s gaze.
She knew she was acting ridiculous, but her nerves were so frayed that she could not get a grip on herself.
Everyone except Lady Billings seemed to be aware of the thick tension in the immediate vicinity.
As soon as they arrived back at Hollyhead and after the shock of meeting Rhys, Cordelia had been examined by the doctor and given a poultice.
She was desperate to be alone, but because Lady Billings and Rhys had made the journey, politeness dictated that they provide some tea and refreshments after the excitement of the old abbey collapse.
Given the choice, Cordelia would have gladly submitted to torture instead.
Justin had gone to an opposite corner of the drawing room, leaning against the frame of a large window.
The sleeve of his jacket was bulky where the doctor had tied a large bandage.
Cordelia had not dared to look at him since he joined the company ten minutes ago, though now she could feel the intensity of his gaze from where he was standing.
“Luckily the duke was there to free Cordelia,” Portia added. Cordelia caught the slight edge in her sister’s voice. “Unlike some people,” she added, from behind her teacup.
Cordelia shot her sister a look that could have withered a soldier.
“What was that?” Bea asked unbecomingly.
“I was just saying how fortunate we are that the new Duke of Rothesay is so obliging,” Portia replied.
“It didn’t sound like that,” Bea countered.
“Did you say the both of you waited out the storm at the Collinses’ cottage?” Lady Billings pried again.
“Yes!” Cordelia and Justin answered in unison; he spoke firmly and she in a high-pitched croak.
“Strange,” Rhys replied. “I thought I saw John Collins and his boys herding the sheep to one of the western pastures as I was riding over earlier.”
“His wife was there,” Justin said.
“Didn’t she pass away two years ago?”
Cordelia’s incessant foot tapping sped up. “Erm, he’s just begun courting a young lady. From the village.”
“News to me! I would have thought him an incorrigible bachelor since Mrs. Collins died. Fever took her, quite quickly too, if I might add. The poor man was terribly heartbroken. Tell me dear, who was it? Perhaps I shall call on her family.” Lady Billings was single-handedly ruining the entire charade that she and Justin were trying to present.
Cordelia felt sweat dampen her forehead as she flicked her eyes over to Justin, who looked so incredibly exasperated she reckoned this conversation would leave a permanent line between his eyebrows.
Cordelia pushed down the urge to smooth the crease out with her thumb.
Much to Mrs. Billings’s consternation he was cradling the teacup in his large palm instead of threading a finger through the handle.
It made Cordelia worried that another inquiring question from Rhys or his mother would cause him to smash it.
“Lady Billings, she was from the next village over, in Buckleberry. Her family name is… M-m—”
“Montgomery,” Justin finished for her.
“Montgomery? Ah yes, I do think I remember that family. That’s well enough! It’s not good to have too many bachelors about.”
Cordelia felt her shoulders sink in relief. Her ribs ached and her chin quivered and she wished she could run to her room and close the door and sleep for the rest of the year. Perhaps then she would wake refreshed and know exactly how to untangle the web she’d caught herself in.
“Lady Billings,” Portia said, “might you stay for dinner? You and Rhys?”
“Oh, we daren’t,” Rhys answered. “I fear that my mother and I have treaded on your hospitality for too long.”
If Lady Billings was disappointed for allowing her son to dismiss them, she did not show it.
Gripping onto the handle of her cane, she stood, stout and proud as ever.
“I am so very relieved that you have both returned safe and unharmed. Though we’d best keep this occurrence to ourselves.
I’d hate for the gossips to catch wind of it. ”
Everyone seemed to agree emphatically with that. Cordelia stood, following the company out of the drawing room and down the hall. Portia was keeping Lady Billings occupied, fielding questions about when Henry Peverill was to return.
“I certainly hope he will make the ball in two weeks’ time!” she exclaimed. “A ball is no good without a little… drama.”
“May I see you tomorrow?”
The voice, spoken in a low tone, sent shivers down her spine.
Rhys Billings had a way of speaking that could charm a lady straight into his bed.
For most of his conquests it would only take a night of whispered promises and candlelight, but for Cordelia it had been a lifetime of friendship and four steady years of teasing and flirting.
Most of which she deflected easily. But there were only so many times a handsome devil could come knocking at a woman’s door before she became curious enough to take him up on his offer.
Her mind immediately flashed to that afternoon in the vicarage, and Justin’s mouth on her heated flesh. There was simply no comparison. Rhys and Cordelia had been so young at the time, fumbling and embarrassed in the way only two virgins could be.
“Lia?” he asked, and she realized she’d given no reply. “Where did you go, just then?” he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.
“Nowhere,” she replied, and returned the smile. “Please, come tomorrow. I was planning on going for a walk.”
“A walk, not a ride?” he asked, raising a tawny eyebrow.
“No riding for the next four weeks. The doctor is growing tired of calling on our family. He was positively livid,” she said.
“A walk it is then. I’ll call in the morning,” he said.
Cordelia nodded her head and curtsied. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Justin was eyeing the two of them, his arms tensed at his sides.
“Good meeting you, Rothesay,” Billings said, and to Cordelia’s surprise, he stretched out his hand to Justin’s.
Justin shook it, but his face was unreadable. Cordelia swallowed as the others said their goodbyes.
“I think I will retire,” Cordelia said to no one in particular. “It’s been a long day.”
“Let me come with you,” Portia said.
“No,” Cordelia replied, perhaps a little too forcefully, because her sister raised her eyebrows. “I’d… I’d prefer to be alone.”
“Of course,” Portia said, “I’ll look in on you tomorrow morning.” She leaned in closer and added in a quiet voice, “Everything will seem clearer then.”
Cordelia was grateful for the sentiment, but she knew it wouldn’t.
*
“Couldn’t find an expensive Italian cigar to light?”
Justin waited for the smoke from his pipe to clear to make out who it was. Portia’s slight figure had barely darkened the doorway to the library.
“Didn’t the doctor give you a load of laudanum to help you sleep?” Justin quipped.
“I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth. Take it out,” she said.
Justin removed the stem of the pipe from between his teeth and blew the remainder of smoke out of his nostrils.
He was sure he resembled some kind of a cartoonish bull; he’d been on edge and quietly raging all evening over the imposition of the Billings family at Hollyhead.
He had no idea if Rhys had ever received his letter.
The entire thing came as a shock to him.
But that was one thing in a long list of people and circumstances he was angry with.
He was furious with his late father and fuming over the dead Rothesay duke, who had effectively ruined his life.
Then he was positively irate with his business partners, upset with Peverill for encouraging the leave of absence from his job, and livid with his secretary for catching dysentery and having to convalesce somewhere in South Mimms, wherever that was.
And then there was Cordelia, who simultaneously made him want to tear out his hair and bend her over his desk.
Sleeping with her had been an utter mistake.
He’d known it at the time, but could not find the strength to say no.
Then he’d gone and proposed to her like a fool and of course, she had rejected him, but not before asking after repairs to Hollyhead, implying that funds for the crumbling manor might tempt her to accept him.
“Shall I pour you a glass of brandy?” Portia asked. She seemed relatively meek tonight, which made him wary of her.
“Yes,” he muttered, taking another drag on his pipe.