Chapter 20
“ O h, by Jove, Cordelia! You have done all of this by yourself?” Penelope gasped as she stepped into Cordelia’s greenhouse, her neck craning as she looked this way and that.
“Oh, that is exactly the reaction that I had been hoping for!” Cordelia said with a happy clap. “I have been working on finishing it for over a week now just to make sure that everything is exactly where it needs to be.”
“Your hard work has certainly paid off!” Eleanor continued as they moved further into the room.
Cordelia stopped by the doors of the greenhouse, watching her dear friends move into the transformed space. She had not yet been able to replace all of the glass ceiling panels, but everything else felt almost renewed. All of the rust and tarnish had been scrubbed from the brass fixtures, and the spiral staircase to the back of the greenhouse that led up to the second floor was replaced. She wished to fill the whole place with flowers from everywhere that she could think of. She had managed to pot and fill so many different variations as it was!
In the main part of the greenhouse, positioned around the massive tree that dominated the space, was a small collection of tea carts and circular tables. Each was decorated to reflect a different flower and color scheme while the tea carts were covered in aromatic blends of tea and steaming pots of water, along with various finger foods. She had wanted to go all out for her dear friends and the looks of shock and awe on their faces was everything that she had wanted.
“Please, feel free to look around as you see fit. Careful with the orchids in the back, they have been a little sensitive lately. Tea?” Cordelia offered helpfully and moved to sit at one of the tables herself. Matilde stepped forward right away to start placing biscuits and small sandwiches on a plate for Cordelia as well as poured her a floral blended tea that put her right at ease. Which was good, because Cordelia was starting to speak a touch too quickly, allowing herself to become flustered.
“I simply do not know how you have turned this old place into… this…” Mary gushed as she sat down beside Cordelia. “Of course, I saw you hurrying in and out every day, hem soaked in mud, and I had not wished to distract you, but I will not deny being powerfully curious!”
“I know that my hands-on approach is not always appropriate, but I cannot deny the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that comes from a hard job well done,” Cordelia answered as she sipped her tea. If only her mother could have been able to be here to see it. While Lavinia never seemed to care much about what Cordelia planted, or the names of flowers, she was always there to listen and nod along. It had been a very hard choice not to invite her, but she did not wish to make her friends uncomfortable and she knew how Lavinia had come to be whenever she was feeling as if she were not the center of attention at all times. Perhaps it was simply her being a bad daughter, or selfish, but she did not wish to have this greenhouse tainted with any more negative memories. Not when she had worked so hard to turn it back into something of a respite.
Maybe, just maybe, someday Dorian would be willing to come in here with her and feel happy, instead of consumed by the bad things that had happened to him in his past.
“I do not care what is, or is not fashionable when this is the result! I have never seen so many colors in one place before!” Eleanor answered before taking her seat and pulling a pastry toward herself. “What does your husband think of all of this?”
Mary and Cordelia exchanged glances, and Cordelia shifted the topic with her answer. “Well, I am hoping that when I invite him to join me here, he will be so overwhelmed by the beauty that he will not hear me tell him that I wish to raise my own bees as well.”
“Oh, how exciting! Bees are so pretty.” Marina was the only one to love all animals, even insects.
“Bees!” Penelope shuddered. “Whatever for!”
“To pollinate the flowers of course!”
“You wish to handle them yourself? I cannot handle even the thought of them buzzing around me, let alone touching them!”
“Well, there are certainly protective garments to wear.”
Mary snorted. “I beg your pardon; I was merely envisioning the vein in my brother’s neck bulging from stress at the thought of you having bees here.”
“Oh, is he the overprotective sort? How sweet, he does not wish you stung! I cannot blame him,” Penelope added, taking a bite of a strawberry.
“I do not think there is any world where I could be comfortable touching bees!” Eleanor interjected with a soft shudder.
“They are simply misunderstood, is all! They are hard little workers,” Marina continued.
“I have a book about them, should anyone be curious,” said Cordelia.
Mary snorted. “Is that why you were climbing all over the library muttering about horticulture?”
The conversation flowed quickly, all of the women speaking over one another as they added in their thoughts on their favorite flowers, their own hobbies, and the things that they liked and disliked until the tea carts were nearly empty and the sun was starting to climb lower in the sky. An afternoon absolutely well spent—at least until Eleanor spoke next.
“Oh, how pretty it is going to be when you have a little one of your own running around here. I bet they will have the natural green thumb that you do, Cordelia.”
She meant no harm by the words, of course. Cordelia knew that her friend would never say anything to intentionally hurt her. She also had no idea that the duke had no intention of having children. No, only Mary knew that. But what was the point of keeping pointless secrets? They were her friends, after all.
Cordelia nodded, tracing the rim of her teacup with the pad of her finger. “Dorian does not wish for children, actually.” A small bubble of hope rose in her chest. She could not help it. It was something that she had been thinking about over and over again but did not dare to voice out loud. “Or, well, he did not… I do not know if that was simply because he did not know me all that well yet, or if it is truly because he is opposed to children. I will not deny that I keep hoping the closer that we get…”
Mary shook her head. “Oh! This is my brother you are speaking about! Please, spare my ears the details!”
All women laughed, even as Penelope leaned in closer. “But you are… consummating, right? Would not a child result naturally from laying with your husband?”
Cordelia flushed a deep red; she could feel it. “Well, of course, I–”
“I beg of you, please do not finish that sentence,” Mary groaned.
Cordelia could not help but laugh. “I just mean to say that maybe he will change his mind about children. Perhaps he was just afraid of the prospect of being a father.”
Eleanor nodded and suppressed a giggle. “It is normal for a man to be a touch apprehensive about such things.”
“It is true, it is always said that a woman becomes a mother when she is pregnant, but a man does not truly feel a father until he holds his child in his arms for the first time. Trust me, Rhysand was like that,” Penelope assured her.
Cordelia nodded, hoping that maybe that would be the case but she was not entirely certain.
“I have always desired a large family of my own, and I know that if he allows himself to be, he would be a wonderful father,” Cordelia explained absently as she accepted another cup of tea.
“Do you truly feel that way?” Marina asked gently.
Cordelia’s brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Eleanor paused, glancing around at the other women as if looking for their support. “I do not mean to be crass or anything, but we have heard his reputation, same as you. We are well aware that he harmed his own father… so maybe…”
Cordelia’s eyes widened at the same time that Mary’s narrowed.
Before her sister-in-law had a chance to speak, Cordelia answered. “I understand your concern, truly, I do, but that is all a misunderstanding. Things are not like that, not exactly.”
Her friends did not look convinced. She wondered if she would have been if the positions were reversed. It was only natural for her to defend her husband. But Cordelia loved him, and she wanted her friends to see the side of him that she knew and loved. Like herself, they likely just needed to spend a little bit more time with him.
“A… misunderstanding that resulted in–” Penelope started, but a loud crash of the greenhouse doors interrupted their conversation.
Cordelia’s mother stood at the entrance to the greenhouse with her arms stretched over her head and a bright smile on her face.
When had she arrived?
The doors banged shut behind her, and Cordelia internally winced at the thought of the new glass panels being broken from her mother’s erratic motions. Even from across the greenhouse, she could see the ruddy color of her mother’s cheeks and the red tint to her chest.
“I see you started without me!” Lavinia said loudly, her hands lifting over her head as she dramatically waved to them all. “But I am here now!”
“Excuse me, ladies, this will only take a moment.” Cordelia hurried over to her mother, second-hand embarrassment flushing through her. “Mama, what are you doing here?”
“My daughter is having a tea gathering, and you thought that I would miss it?” Lavinia giggled and reached between them to pinch Cordelia’s nose between her fingers with a wet giggle.
“How did you even know about it?”
“Do… does my daughter not want me here?” Lavinia spoke with her voice raising with every word as she dramatically started to pout.
“That is not what I said, of course, I am happy that you are here, Mama,” Cordelia answered, looking back over her shoulder for Matilde, who was at her side quickly.
“What are we gossiping about, ladies?” Lavinia shrugged out of Cordelia’s hold and moved toward the table, her eyes narrowing as she was no doubt looking for wine. Lavinia seemed unable to even stay on her feet properly as she swayed this way and that. “Men? You have to be careful… most men are pigs. My husband was a pig. That is why he left me all alone.”
Lavinia staggered over to the seat Cordelia had abandoned and sat in it.
“You must all listen to me; I know what I am speaking about,” Lavinia said in a sage voice as she helped herself to whatever she wanted on all of the ladies’ plates. “My husband left me all alone. Your husbands will leave you all alone, too. That is simply what men do. You cannot trust them!”
Cordelia wanted to cry.
Matilde squeezed her hand and took over the situation gently. “My lady? I believe that you were wanted in the parlor. Come, I shall assist you.”
“Hm? Wanted? Oh, you… yes…” Lavinia said as she pushed another sandwich in her mouth before allowing Matilde to escort her back into the house.
Cordelia could have melted right into the floor.
Matilde wrapped a supportive arm around Lavinia, guiding her back toward the door—but Lavinia stopped beside her daughter. There was something that Cordelia could only read as remorse on her features as Lavinia frowned.
“I have done it again… have I not?” She asked softly, her voice barely audible.
Cordelia did not know what to say. Lavinia swayed in place, only to be caught better by Matilde’s steady, strong hold.
“Let us get you upstairs and a nice cup of tea, hm?”
But Lavinia would not move, not yet. “I have embarrassed you… again…”
Cordelia’s instinct was to decline that anything was wrong, to tell her mother that it was all fine and that she would handle everything like she always did. But the whole reason that she was here was so that they could take care of her… and she had been doing well on her drinking. At least, she had thought that she had.
No matter how she tried to speak, the words would not leave her lips. She did not wish to make her mother feel poorly for what had happened, but how could she deny the way she felt? She did not wish to lie to her mother.
“I am… I am sorry… Cordelia…” Lavinia reached up and cupped the side of her daughter's face affectionately. “I can still see so much of your father in you sometimes…”
Cordelia steeled herself against the sudden onslaught of emotion.
Lavinia nodded to Matilde, and the pair of them left the greenhouse, leaving a weight of feelings tangled into a knot in Cordelia’s chest before she inhaled deeply, and turned to face her guests once more.
The last of Cordelia’s guests had left after dinner, and Cordelia found herself the last one in the dining room. Dorian had not returned home all day. He had not been present for dinner, and she did not know how to take that. She did not know if she had upset him or if this was how things were to go after their little talk. She had thought that today was going to be the day.
He must have decided that what she asked him for was too much to handle.
In her mind, she had thought that they were going to go up to bed together tonight and that when he had finished making love to her, he would pull her into his arms and keep her there until the morning light. Had he decided to take it back already? She did not know how she was to handle that, if that was what had happened.
“Your Grace, you have a visitor,” the butler announced.
“At this hour?” Cordelia glanced over her shoulder to the setting sun outside curiously. She had not been expecting anyone, and it certainly was uncommon for anybody to call upon her at this hour. She was of half a mind to deny the visitor given that her husband was not even here. “Who is it?”
“The Viscount of Debonaire, Your Grace.”
Matthew? How unlike him to show up unannounced, and at such a late hour too. It must have been something very important that he wished to share with her to come here this late. “Very well, invite him in please.”
The servant bowed and left the room. Cordelia looked over the empty dining table and wondered if she ought to call for dessert, cognac, or something given the room that she was in. She could have taken the time to have the parlor prepared, perhaps, but she did not wish to keep him waiting.
When Matthew walked in, she stood to greet him. He wasted no time crossing the room and taking her hand; he brushed a polite kiss across her knuckles as he smiled brightly at her. “I am glad to see you, as always, Cordelia.”
“And I you, Cousin, but I did not think that it would be at such an hour,” she said as she invited him to sit, which he did—but it was strange that he chose to sit at the head of the table, directly where Dorian was meant to be.
“I understand that it is unorthodox but I have something to discuss with you that simply cannot wait,” Matthew continued.
Cordelia could not help but laugh as she summoned one of the servants. “You sound so serious, Matthew. Wine? Port?”
Matthew started to shake his head and then stopped. “Either would be acceptable, thank you.”
“See? Nothing needs to be so grave, right?” Cordelia let her elbow rest on the arm of her chair, her chin resting on her bent wrist.
“I am afraid what I am about to tell you is.”
Part of her wanted to ignore whatever was about to come. The last time they had spoken, she had lost her temper more than she cared to admit. Given that he was once a great friend to her, she hoped that this was him coming to apologize to her so that they could put things back the way they were.
The servant placed the drinks on the table, but she did not touch hers. Matthew, however, downed the whole thing in one gulp. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“I have long struggled with whether or not I should bring this piece of information forward to you. It brings me no pleasure whatsoever to have to be the one to bring this news to you, but it is apparent to me now that your husband is too much of a coward to tell you the truth, and I will see you played the fool no longer,” Matthew said in one breath.
“Do not start this again, Matthew, I am not in the mood.” Cordelia sighed and sank back into her chair, crossing her legs. “I understand that you dislike my husband, you and half of the ton , but that does not give you the right to speak about him like this. He has not done anything to you to warrant this witch hunt you seem determined to hold against him.”
“How can you sit here and defend a man like that? You might have been forced to marry him, but you cannot play ignorant to the accusations against him! He is a murderer, Cordelia. If you are unwilling to keep yourself out of harm’s way, then I shall be forced to protect you from yourself as well,” Matthew said firmly.
So firmly, in fact, that Cordelia was slightly intimidated by how worked up he seemed to be. She had never seen him like that before. He certainly had never spoken to her in that tone. “I beg your pardon?”
What right did he have to pretend that he was the one who had the right to protect her? And where was he when her family needed him before?
Matthew’s jaw tightened. “Your husband killed your father, Cordelia. Has he admitted that to you yet?”
The comment was so far-fetched that she could not even believe it. It would have been more feasible to hear that flowers were falling from the sky outside. “What?” Cordelia laughed. “You have truly gone mad. Honestly, I have heard enough.”
“Dorian is a ruthless, cruel man. He is a killer. He does not, and never will care about anything but himself,” Matthew continued with a serious expression.
Something about him speaking so informally about her husband truly got under her skin. It crawled deeper, making her more uncomfortable with each passing moment.
“Do you have proof?”
“Proof?” Matthew echoed.
“I know that you did not come uninvited into my home, to accuse my husband of such horrible things without evidence. I will see your proof now, or you are going to get out,” Cordelia said firmly, all hints of her smile gone.
“You are seriously not going to say anything else?” Matthew did not move as he spoke. “I have known you nearly your whole life, and you are just going to dismiss me like that?”
“So, you have no proof. You have come here uninvited at such a late hour to throw around baseless accusations about my husband. And, for what? Do you truly think of me as such a cloud-headed woman as to not have taken the time to properly get to know my husband? You are wrong. I certainly know him better than you ever shall. Now, go.”
Cordelia nodded her head toward the door, determined not to say another word. Could he truly not see how much his words were hurting her? He was one of her oldest and dearest friends, and to say such very hurtful things to her… it was like he was tearing their friendship apart, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Listen to me, Cordelia. I do not like you being alone with that man. He is dangerous. If nobody else is willing to caution you away from him or is trying to shield the truth from you—he is responsible for your father’s death.” Matthew concluded as he rose from the chair. “If you do not believe me, ask him yourself.”
She glared at him, as he stood there waiting for her to buckle or to come to her senses. Had he really thought that he could say such things and she was just going to blindly believe him? Dorian had confessed things to her that made her understand him, and she certainly was not going to make light of that effort.
When it was clear that she was not going to budge in her stance, Matthew hissed and started to leave.
“Fine. Have it your way, Cordelia.”
He paused in the doorway and had the audacity to look at her with longing.
“I shall be waiting for you when you find out the truth but do not say I did not warn you. I can be a far better husband to you than him.”
Was that what this was about? Did he think that if he was the one to ruin her marriage, she was going to throw herself into his arms and beg and plead for him to help her? Was this just misplaced affection? Either way, he was hurting her. How could he choose to be so blind to the pain he was putting her in with such terrible accusations?
“Enough. Get out,” Cordelia hissed.
Matthew turned his heel and left Cordelia, sitting at the table with a head full of questions.