Chapter 30
Alexander had barely finished signing the last estate ledger when a measured knock sounded against the study door.
“Come in.”
Mr. Thornton stepped inside, bowing respectfully before speaking.
“Your Grace, Lady Cordelia Ashworth has called.”
Alexander’s quill paused above the page.
“Has she?”
“She arrived only moments ago.”
Alexander set the quill aside, closing the ledger without another glance.
“And where is she now?”
“In the drawing room, Your Grace. Her Grace is with her, and though no harsh words have been exchanged, I will not claim that they are pleased to see one another.”
Months earlier, those words would have sent a familiar unease through Alexander’s chest. He would have wondered what Cordelia intended, and feared the sharpness of her tongue, the carefully chosen remarks she had always known how to disguise as compliments.
More than that, he would have worried that Eleanor might hear something she should not have, or worse, that he would once again fail to explain himself before doubt had time to take root.
But that was before, and instead of doing any of that, he simply smiled.
“Thank you, Thornton. I shall be there in just a moment.”
The butler nodded and withdrew. Alexander rose from behind his desk, straightening the cuffs of his coat before making his way downstairs.
His pace was unhurried, and his thoughts were calm.
He knew Cordelia well enough to expect some attempt at provocation, but for the first time since his marriage, he realized it no longer mattered.
There were no secrets left for her to uncover, no misunderstandings left for her to exploit. Whatever she had come to say, Eleanor would hear it beside him, and not from whispers in corridors or half-truths passed through society.
He reached the drawing room and paused just outside the open door. Cordelia sat gracefully upon the settee, every inch the accomplished lady she had always been. Elegantly dressed and perfectly composed, she accepted a cup of tea from one of the footmen with a smile.
Opposite her sat Eleanor, who looked entirely at ease. One hand rested lightly around her own teacup, while the basket of freshly gathered flowers she had carried in from the garden remained beside her chair. She was smiling politely as Cordelia spoke, neither intimidated nor defensive.
She simply looked confident.
Alexander realized, with no small amount of pride, that he had never seen her more completely at home. Eleanor noticed him first.
“There you are.”
The warmth in her voice drew his eyes immediately to hers.
“We were just wondering whether you intended to hide in your study all afternoon.”
A laugh escaped him. “I was working.”
There had once been uncertainty in such exchanges, but now there was only easy affection. Alexander crossed the room and leaned down to kiss Eleanor’s forehead before taking the seat beside her.
“I hope you have not been waiting long, Lady Cordelia.”
“Only a few minutes,” Cordelia replied smoothly. “I trust I have not interrupted anything important.”
Alexander reached for his teacup.
“Nothing that cannot wait.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Eleanor watching him. She was smiling, not because Cordelia’s presence amused her but because they were about to enjoy themselves. Months ago, Alexander would have dreaded finding the two women together.
That day, he found only quiet satisfaction. Whatever conversation lay ahead, they would face it as they had learned to face everything else—together.
For a few moments, only the gentle clink of china disturbed the silence.
Cordelia stirred her tea with slow, deliberate movements, though she made no attempt to drink it.
Instead, her gaze drifted between Alexander and Eleanor, lingering on the ease with which they sat beside one another.
At last, she set her cup upon its saucer.
“I imagine you are wondering why I have come.”
Alexander met her gaze evenly.
“I confess the thought has crossed my mind.”
“I considered writing.”
“And yet you did not.”
“No,” she replied as she drew a quiet breath, her fingers resting neatly against the edge of the saucer.
“I decided that, after everything, a letter seemed insufficient. There is so much that was left unsaid, and so much that I feel you must both be aware of if your marriage is to be as open as rumor suggests.”
Eleanor remained silent, sensing that this conversation had been waiting to happen long before she had ever entered Alexander’s life. Cordelia had not come to make accusations, nor had she arrived with the sharp confidence she once carried in every room.
There was something different in her, a weariness beneath the elegance.
And if she had come with bitterness in her heart, Alexander supposed that it was warranted. It had not been deliberate, but he had hurt her. She had expected him to marry her, and he had half-expected it too until he could no longer do it.
It was for the best for both of them, of course, but she would not understand that immediately. In fact, it would undoubtedly take some time, but Alexander knew that it would be worth it once she understood. That was what had happened to him, after all.
“I have not come to cause unpleasantness,” Cordelia said.
Alexander raised an eyebrow slightly.
“No?”
A flicker of amusement crossed her face.
“I deserve that,” Cordelia laughed sadly, lowering her gaze for a moment before looking back at him. “I came because I wanted an answer. I—After everything that has happened, I wanted to know why you never chose me.”
Neither Alexander nor Eleanor spoke. Cordelia looked toward the window, watching the sunlight fall across the gardens beyond the glass. Alexander did not know what to tell her, partly because he was so surprised that she was speaking so softly.
“I spent weeks convincing myself I already knew. I told myself it was your father. Then I blamed your pride. After that, I blamed myself, but none of those answers have ever been enough. I simply want to know why I was not chosen.”
The room fell quiet. Alexander did not rush to respond.
Months ago, perhaps even weeks ago, he would have dreaded the conversation.
He would have worried over every word, concerned that honesty might create another wound, but now he understood that the truth, even when painful, was kinder than avoidance.
“I owe you the truth,” he said quietly.
“You do.”
“I intended to marry you. I believed it was the sensible course. I respected you, and I admired your intelligence, and the way you carried yourself.”
A faint smile touched her lips. His voice softened slightly, but he continued.
“But I never loved you.”
The words were gentle. There was no cruelty in them, only honesty. Cordelia closed her eyes for the briefest moment. When she opened them again, there was sadness there, but not surprise.
“Part of me always suspected that. I assumed that it was because you were burdened by your responsibility, but that you would see sense eventually.”
“I thought affection would grow,” he agreed. “I thought companionship would be enough. For a long time, I convinced myself that was all a marriage required.”
“It often is,” Cordelia replied quietly.
“Yes. That is what I believed until I met my wife.”
Eleanor looked at him, caught slightly off guard by the warmth in his voice.
“I spent years believing marriage was duty,” he explained. “I told myself that respect and stability were enough. I thought a man could live a perfectly acceptable life without ever allowing himself to want more.”
His fingers brushed against Eleanor’s hand.
“I was wrong.”
Cordelia followed the movement, watching the quiet affection between them. He could see the envy in her eyes, but he had no intention of hiding his love. He had done it for far too long, and he refused to do it again.
“And what changed?” she asked.
Alexander looked at Eleanor before answering.
“I did, and Eleanor caused that. She challenged me, reminded me that there was more to life than obligation. She made me want something beyond simply enduring each day.”
Cordelia looked down at her tea.
“I spent so many years trying to become the sort of woman I believed you wanted. Every accomplishment, every careful word, every effort to be the perfect match…I thought if I proved myself enough, you would eventually see me differently.”
“You never needed to prove yourself to me.”
“I know that now,” she laughed sadly, and a sad smile touched her lips. “That is the unfortunate thing about understanding the truth. It often arrives after the moment when it could have changed anything.”
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was simply honest. Eleanor finally spoke.
“Lady Cordelia, if I may, I do not believe you came here because you wished to take my place. You came because you wanted to know whether there had been something you could have done differently.”
The other woman studied her.
“Yes.”
Eleanor considered her carefully.
“I do not think there was. I think we both spent too long believing we could earn someone’s love if we became exactly what they needed.”
Cordelia looked away.
“And do you now believe that is not how love works?”
“I do. I think love is something that happens when two people are finally willing to be honest about who they are.”
Alexander’s hand tightened around hers. Cordelia noticed, but this time she did not look hurt by it. She looked as though she finally understood.
“I think I have spent a long time mourning something that never truly existed. Perhaps that is why I found it so difficult to accept losing it.”
“I know how that feels.” Eleanor nodded. “Believe me, once you truly do find love, you will know. It will make any other love you have ever thought you felt disappear entirely.”
Alexander remained quiet, allowing her the dignity of saying what she needed. Cordelia rose from her seat and smoothed the folds of her gown.
“I believe I have my answer now.”