Chapter Twenty-Six
By the time the building was in sight, the sun had risen fully, bathing the stone structure in a soft-yellow light. After leaving the horses to Edwards’s care, James took Cordelia’s hand, offered his arm to Georgiana, and led them toward the house.
The main doors opened to reveal the housekeeper.
“Oh, Miss Georgiana!” she cried. “What’s happened? You look very ill. Come in out of the cold, quickly! The air has such a nip in its teeth this morning.”
As they stepped inside, Cordelia’s heart sank.
The guests were descending the stairs on their way to the breakfast room, Earl and Countess Stiles leading the procession.
The earl’s gaze wandered over the three of them with the intensity of an experienced and insightful magistrate, and Cordelia shivered at the memory of his holding court, presiding over the battered whores whose fates he decided.
“My dear girl!” Countess Stiles broke free from her husband and rushed toward Georgiana. “What’s happened?”
Stiles’s expression grew thoughtful, and James met Cordelia’s gaze, a plea in his eyes.
“Georgiana was feeling unwell this morning,” she said.
Sir George Marlow frowned. “And you thought an excursion would cure her, on this cold morning?”
“I foolishly believed a morning ride might do her good,” Cordelia continued. “Fresh air can work wonders on a constitution after a meal as rich as that which we enjoyed last night. I myself felt a little unwell after having indulged in a little too much of Mrs. Vaughan’s excellent apple tart.”
Stiles arched an eyebrow. Then his left eye twitched—almost as if he winked at her.
“I suffered the most, having eaten three slices,” he said. “My constitution’s a little delicate also.”
Leonard Marlow stepped toward Georgiana, his cheeks reddening. “A-are you feeling better, Miss Bedford?”
Georgiana turned to him, but the contempt that Cordelia expected was absent, and she smiled at the young man.
“Much better, thank you, Mr. Marlow. You’re very kind to show such concern.”
His blush deepened.
“You should rest, Georgiana,” Cordelia said. “I’ll arrange for some sweet tea in your room. I can take care of our guests today.”
Her heart soared as Georgiana took her hand.
“You’re very kind,” Georgiana said. “Forgive me for not appreciating you enough. Perhaps I shall spend the rest of the day in my chamber.”
Leonard’s smile faltered and he thrust his hands into his pockets, disappointment in his eyes.
“Or,” Georgiana continued, “I might rejoin the party after luncheon. I had thought we could enjoy a little palle-maille in the garden if the weather’s as fine as it was yesterday. Mr. Marlow, do you play?”
“I-I fear not, Miss Bedford.”
“Then I must teach you, if you’d like that?”
“Oh yes! Very much, I…” He hesitated. “F-forgive me, I mean…that would be most pleasant.”
Lady Marlow patted her son’s arm and gave him a smile of encouragement.
“James,” Cordelia said, “might you escort our guests into the breakfast room, while I take care of Georgiana? Margaret will be awake by now, and she’ll be anxious to know how her sister fares.”
James took her hand, then lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Anything you say, my love,” he replied. “Perhaps after breakfast, we could discuss the plans you had for the garden gate. Or, if you prefer, you could show me.”
Before she could reply, hoofbeats approached from outside, crunching on the gravel path. Someone knocked on the front door with a violence almost enough to shake the building, and it opened to reveal Sir Iain Leaney, his hair plastered to his face, sweat beading on his brow.
“What the devil are you doing, Sir Iain?” James said.
“I’m come to take what is due to me,” Sir Iain replied.
Cordelia took Georgiana’s hand and drew her toward the stairs.
“Hold right there!” Sir Iain cried. “Give me satisfaction, Bedford, or I’ll tell the good people here of the scandalous deeds that would ruin your family in a heartbeat.”
“Tell and be damned, Leaney,” James said. “I’ll not succumb to extortion, nor will I tolerate disrespect toward my wife and sister. I no longer care not what you—or anyone else—thinks of us.”
Cordelia glanced at her husband. Was he acting out of bravado? Surely he didn’t want her past sins to be revealed to his friends?
Sir Iain curled his lip in a sneer and gestured toward Earl Stiles. “Tell me, good man, what do you think the Honorable Georgiana Bedford has been doing, fleeing in the night unchaperoned with the man she’s been lusting after all summer?”
Leonard drew in a sharp breath, and Sir Iain laughed.
“She’d never look at you, Marlow. You’re a mere boy—a slut such as Georgiana Bedford wants a real man between her thighs.”
“That’s enough!” James yelled, his eyes gleaming with anger. “Do you want me to call you out for abducting my sister?”
“She’s a lightskirts”—Sir Iain laughed—“who’s learned a trick or two from that whore you married.”
Nausea rose in Cordelia’s stomach. Curling her hands into fists, she drew in a lungful of air to dissipate the dizziness in her head.
“I say, old chap,” Sir George said, “there’s no need for that kind of talk with ladies present.”
“Not even if I speak the truth?”
“Sir Iain, that’s enough!” James said, and Cordelia’s heart almost broke at the despair in his eyes. She cast her gaze over the guests. James’s friends—decent, respectable folk who, if they knew of her past, would shun and vilify him.
In a matter of minutes, the man she loved would be a pariah. The whole family would be connected with disgrace and scandal.
Then James exhaled sharply and his eyes darkened with resolve. He turned to face the party.
“Let me tell the truth,” he said.
“James, no…” Cordelia began, but he lifted her hand to his lips.
“My darling, if your past is to be revealed, then let it be done by he who loves you.”
He who loves you…
“Bedford, you really are an utter—” Sir Iain began, but Stiles stepped forward.
“Desist,” he said, his deep voice resonating throughout the hall. “Let Viscount Bedford speak. He has that right, given that we’re guests in his home, though I suspect you’ve outstayed your welcome.”
“Very well,” Sir Iain said, grinning. “Speak and be damned, Bedford.”
James drew Cordelia into his arms and she clung to him, trembling in anticipation of the disgust of every soul in the room.
“Sir Iain wishes to tell you that my wife is a whore,” he said. “And that is exactly what she was before we married.”
“Sweet Lord!” Lady Marlow said, then was quickly shushed by Sir George.
“I first met my wife in the Lyon’s Den,” James continued, “an establishment that I know that some of you have frequented. She was one of the doxies earning a living there by meeting the needs of men like us. I’m not ashamed to say that I paid for her services many times when I visited the Lyon’s Den. And I fell in love.”
“With a doxy?” Sir George said.
James nodded. “Have you never taken a doxy, Sir George?”
The man colored and glanced at his wife. She let out a huff.
“We both know you did before we married, George,” she said. “How else would you have learned to do that thing with the chocolate sauce that—”
“Hush, Anne!” Sir George said, his face turning scarlet.
Countess Stiles let out a giggle, then covered her mouth. “Oh, do forgive me. Lord Bedford,” she said. “Please, continue.”
“You may wonder how a woman ends up earning a living in such a manner,” James said. “The righteous may say it’s through choice, to indulge in sin. But the reality is almost always out of necessity, coercion, or imprisonment.”
“I say, that’s a bit much,” Mr. Ffortescue, who had previously been silent, said.
“Aye, it is,” James replied. “And it was. From when she was a young child, Cordelia had to endure all three. Yet, despite the years of subjugation, she emerged the kind and caring woman that you see before you now. I care not what Society thinks. I care not what you think. If my wife’s history offends you, then you’re at liberty to leave my home. ”
He gestured toward Sir Iain.
“This…gentleman also frequented the Lyon’s Den.
But he believed that a woman who sells her body for a living does not have the right to deny unwanted advances.
Not only did he try to force himself on my wife, he tried to extort money from her while under my roof in return for his silence.
Not content with that, he abducted my sister with the intention of ruining her in pursuit of her dowry. ”
“Well! I’ve never heard the like,” Mr. Ffortescue said.
“Oh, be quiet, Gerald,” Mrs. Ffortescue huffed. “Do you think I don’t know you that visited a bawdy house the night before we married? All men do—well, save for our upstanding magistrate here.” She gestured toward Stiles.
Countess Stiles laughed. “Not even my Hawthorne is exempt, I’m afraid. When I was a young girl, I once saw him with his mistress in the woods, reciting poetry to her while he—”
“My love.” The earl blushed as he placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Today is not the day to present Lord Bedford with a catalogue of my sins. I rather think we should be more concerned with Sir Iain’s sins.”
“You’re a fool if you think I’m the sinner here,” Sir Iain said.
“All men are expected to indulge in the services of tarts, but not even the most foolish man of our class can be forgiven for actually marrying one. To think—the child of a slut inheriting a viscountcy—do you want our world to be tainted thus?”
He pointed toward Cordelia, hatred in his eyes—the same hatred she’d seen when he tried to violate her in the Lyon’s Den.
“That filthy whore will never be accepted among decent Society. I’ll make sure everyone knows what she is, and how she squealed like a sow in heat when I—”
James sprang forward and slammed his fist into the other man’s face. Eyes widening, Sir Iain staggered back and crumpled to the floor.
“For fuck’s sake!” he cried, covering his face. Dark-red liquid oozed between his fingers. “You’ve broken my nose! Stiles, I demand you have him arrested.”
Stiles folded his arms and tilted his head sideways. “Arrested for what?” he said. “The only crime I’ve been made aware of today is the abduction and assault of a young woman. Perhaps it’s best if you leave, or I’ll consider making a formal charge.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Sir Iain said.
“Try me.”
Footsteps approached, and Cordelia caught sight of the butler striding toward the breakfast room door.
“Ah, Osborne,” James said. “Would you escort our guests to breakfast? But first, please remove Sir Iain from the building.”
“Fools,” Sir Iain snarled. Then he winced as the butler grasped his arms and marched him out of the front door.
“He won’t stay quiet,” Cordelia said.
James brushed his lips against hers. “It matters not, my love. Anyone who fails to see your worth can go to the devil.”
“And—you’re not in any trouble for hitting him?”
Stiles let out a laugh, his usually stern face softening. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that,” he said. “I’ve a mind to agree with your husband that you’re a worthy woman.”
“Lord Stiles, you don’t even know me,” Cordelia said.
The earl fixed his direct, penetrating gaze on her. “I’ve seen you many times in my court, Lady Bedford.”
“Y-you recognize me?”
He nodded. “You often attended in support of unfortunate women defending their actions against the men who abused them, and on occasion you stood before me arguing in their favor. Few women in your position have the courage to defend others when they have nothing to gain from it and much to lose when the man they testify against stands before them, ready to wreak vengeance if acquitted. I rather wonder whether you may be worth more than any other woman in England—save my Frederica, of course.”
He lifted the countess’s hand to his lips.
“Now, perhaps it’s time we took our breakfast. I can smell spices and believe it’s the deviled kidneys that we were promised yesterday.
Lord Bedford, permit me to act as temporary host while you take care of your wife.
She looks exhausted. My wife can take Georgiana to her chamber. You don’t mind, do you, my love?”
“Of course not,” the countess said. “Come with me, my dear, and we can see if that delightful young sister of yours can help.” She placed an arm around Georgiana and steered her upstairs as Stiles led the way into the breakfast room, leaving James alone with his wife.
“An observant man, is Earl Stiles,” Cordelia said. “I’ve always been afraid of him, but he seems so different today.”
“He’s equally insightful,” James said. “I applaud him for seeing your worth, though I find myself wondering if I’m in danger of having a rival.”
“There’s no danger of that,” she said. “I might admire Stiles—but it’s you I love.”
“Well, in that case…” James said with a grin, and he placed his arm around Cordelia and lifted her into his arms.
“James!” she cried. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you over the threshold, like any new husband.”
“What about Sir Iain?”
“I’ve no intention of carrying him over the threshold.”
“No, I mean, what if he says anything?”
“Sir Iain can say what he wants,” James said. “If it causes a scandal, then we’ll weather it together. Because that is what we are. Together.”
Her heart soared and he smiled at her, his eyes deepening with desire.
“And now,” he said, “I wish to indulge in our marriage. This morning I proposed to you in the appropriate manner. And now I wish to enjoy breakfast in bed.”
“Is that not terribly decadent?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“Nothing’s too much for the woman I love,” James replied. He placed a kiss on her lips and carried her up the stairs. “Now, what would my wife like for breakfast? Toast, perhaps? Or we could indulge in a slice of Mrs. Vaughan’s apple tart.”
“Now that sounds good,” she whispered, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. “How about we take it with chocolate sauce? I’ve not had occasion to use it myself, but I’m aware of the numerous and enjoyable activities that are enhanced with the application of chocolate sauce.”
A low growl reverberated in his chest, then he carried up the stairs to her bedchamber, pausing only to ask a passing footman to bring them a bowl of chocolate sauce.