“From what I heard, he has a terrible reputation in society circles. He showed up in town out of nowhere with no family and he’s something of a tomcat, according to the gentleman my husband was talking to. I heard he shows up with a different woman at every party he’s invited to.” Birdie turned her attention to her sister, still toying with the necklace while Cordelia knelt in front of the dress-up trunk. “Who did he bring to your party? I saw him dancing with you but I didn’t see his companion.”
“I don’t know that he brought anyone,” Cordelia said, unlatching the trunk and opening it. “We didn’t speak much, to be honest.” She thought of dancing with him, the way he had spun her around and how much fun it had been to let go of her worries for just a moment. “I believe he came late as well.”
“Maybe he had a fight with the lady he was bringing,” Birdie said. “That wouldn’t surprise me if it’s true that he’s got a new one every week. Still, coming to a party late with no companion and spending all your time drinking? If he didn’t already have a reputation, he’s getting one now.”
“He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?” She said this while looking into the trunk, hoping that she looked disinterested enough that her sister wouldn’t notice her cheeks had turned red.
“I certainly think so,” Birdie said with a grin. “Those eyes of his are positively breathtaking. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen eyes so blue. If I weren’t married, I don’t think I would mind spending some time with him.”
“Birdie!”
“Well, I would!” She folded her arms over her chest and gave her sister a petulant look. “I wouldn’t turn him away if he wanted to kiss me, that’s for sure.” Cordelia was trying to come up with a response to this when there was a light knock on the door and Mrs. Richmond stuck her head in.
“Good afternoon, ladies. It’s come to my attention that no one has offered you tea, Bridget.” She shot Cordelia a look that clearly said it was her responsibility to have called for tea. “Would you care for some?”
“Sure,” Birdie said with a shrug. “That would be nice, thanks.”
“Excellent. I shall have Patricia bring it in with a selection of biscuits.” She left almost soundlessly and Birdie sighed.
“I don’t know how you handle being around her all day, I really don’t. Shouldn’t she have retired by now?” Birdie got up from her chair, went to one of the bookshelves and started looking at the books.
“You and I both know that will never happen,” Cordelia said, reaching into the trunk and feeling around the corners just in case there were any other hidden treasures lurking at the bottom. “If she passes away in her sleep, her ghost will come to the breakfast table to nag me about leaving the duvet in a mess.” Not finding anything of interest in the trunk, she closed it again and latched it. “Mr. Pembroke has been here an awful lot lately. I hope everything’s going all right with his father’s estate.”
“What could possibly be wrong with it? He’s passed away and Arthur was his only child, everything goes to him. That’s just how it works, right?” One of the books on entomology had found its way into Birdie’s hand and she turned it over.
“I always thought so,” Cordelia said. “But who knows what goes on with men and their affairs. Lord Whittemore was a difficult man, there may have been some sort of problem with the will. Arthur said before that---“ Cordelia clipped off the end of her sentence before she could get the rest of it out, hoping that Birdie hadn’t heard it. Her little sister was busy examining a diagram of a giant beetle and Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe what she’d almost said.
“What possesses a person to study bugs their entire life?” Birdie turned the page. “They’re fascinating creatures but there’s only so much one can discover about them.” She looked up at Cordelia. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that last bit.”
“It was nothing,” Cordelia said, shaking her head. “Nothing at all.” The door opened again and Patricia, who had been walking on eggshells around Cordelia since the night of the party, came in with the tea tray. She set it down on the table between the wing chairs, avoiding Cordelia’s eyes as she did, and looked at Birdie instead.
“I brought petits fours instead of biscuits, ma’am,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.”
“That’s perfect,” Birdie said, snapping the book shut but not putting it back on the shelf. She brought it with her to the chair and wedged it between the cushion and the arm. “I’m going to take this home. I think Walter would really enjoy reading it. Do you think Arthur would mind terribly if I did?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Cordelia said, watching Patricia pour the tea with her eyes on the ground. “I don’t know that he ever read it. He collects books because he takes interest in a subject, then forgets he ever had them.” Patricia met Cordelia’s eyes for a moment, then hurried for the door. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Cordelia sighed. She turned to her sister. “Would you excuse me a moment, darling sister? I need to have a word with my maid.”
“Of course,” Birdie said, reaching for the petits fours. “I’ll help myself to one of these lovely-looking cakes while you do.”
While Birdie went about picking out her cake, Cordelia went into the hall to look for Patricia. The girl moved quickly, she would give her that. Thinking that she would have likely gone back to the kitchen, Cordelia followed that path until she caught up with her just outside the kitchen.
“Patricia,” she said sternly, and the girl flinched. “I would like to speak with you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Patricia said, coming toward her with her head down. When she spoke, there was a tremble in her voice. “Are you going to dismiss me?”
“Of course not,” Cordelia said, trying not to sound as impatient as she felt. “However, we can’t continue the way we have been since the party. You can’t continue hiding from me. I do apologize for being short with you and I should have addressed this sooner but---“
“I’m so sorry, Lady Whittemore,” Patricia interrupted. “Mr. Pembroke convinced me to have some wine with him and I completely lost my head. I don’t know what came over me, I promise it won’t ever happen again! Please don’t dismiss me, my mother would be so ashamed.”
“I’m not going to dismiss you,” Cordelia sighed. “I will ask you to use more discretion in future, though. No more drinking while you’re working, either, no matter what Mr. Pembroke says.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Patricia said, nodding vigorously. “Of course. Thank you, ma’am!” Her smile faltered and she looked as if she was debating saying something. She picked up the edge of the apron she was wearing and fiddled with it. “May I tell you something in confidence?”
“Of course,” Cordelia said with a smile. She really did like the girl, and she had the makings of an excellent lady’s maid. The last thing she wanted was to lose a good servant because she was acting like a jealous schoolgirl over a man she had no right to. “Please feel free.”
“It’s about your husband,” Patricia said quietly, glancing toward the kitchen to make sure no one else was listening. Cordelia’s stomach clenched and she motioned for Patricia to follow her away from the kitchen. They stepped into a side room that was closer to the study and Cordelia closed the door.
“Now, what’s the matter?”
“I was upstairs gathering the bedclothes for the wash and I heard sounds in Lord Whittemore’s room. I assumed it was you and him having a, um, a private moment so I started to leave. Then I heard a man’s voice, and it wasn’t Lord Whittemore. And then I saw you down here with your sister and, well, I’m afraid one thing led to another in my mind.” Patricia’s face was even redder than it had been when Cordelia caught her with Victor and she looked away. “I’m sorry if that was indiscreet.”
“Not at all,” Cordelia said, her anger flaring. She kept her voice even so Patricia wouldn’t think she was angry with her again, and managed a tight smile. “You’re not the one who’s been indiscreet. I thank you for coming
to me with this, Patricia, and I would appreciate if you didn’t speak of it to anyone else.”
“Oh no, ma’am, not at all!” She looked shocked that Cordelia would even suggest it and her anger at Arthur was tempered slightly by her renewed affection for the girl. “I should get back to the kitchen, ma’am. If there’s anything you need, please call for me.” Patricia hurried out the door and Cordelia went after her, then looked over her shoulder on the way to the study.
“Patricia?” The girl stopped in her tracks and turned back to Cordelia, who gave her a more genuine smile in the hopes of putting her at ease. “How would you like to learn to become my lady’s maid?”
“I’d like that very much!” Patricia’s face shone with joy and Cordelia laughed.
“All right, then. Speak to Mrs. Richmond at once and she’ll make the arrangements. I must return to my sister.” She turned and went back to the study, her blood boiling. Patricia’s enthusiasm had made her forget it for a moment but now that the girl was gone, all she could think about was Arthur. If it weren’t for the fact that Birdie was waiting for her to return she would have marched upstairs immediately and told him exactly what she thought of him.
When she opened the door to the study, however, Birdie was already finishing the last of her tea as she stood over the tray. The book on insects was cradled in her arm and her gloves were on. She set the teacup down and turned to her sister.
“I’m sorry to eat all your cakes and run,” Birdie said, causing Cordelia to look down at the plate and see that both petit fours had indeed been reduced to crumbs. “I was looking through this book and saw something about a particular beetle whose shell reminded me of a ribbon I saw at the notions shop the last time I was here. I’d like to get some before I’m on my way home.”
“Bring some next time you come,” Cordelia said. “I’d love to see this ribbon for myself.” They walked together toward the door and Birdie smiled.
“Why don’t you come to the shop with me? I could show it to you myself if they still have it. It’s really very pretty.” She opened the book to a page she had turned down the corner on. Cordelia would usually have had plenty to say about this but at the moment she couldn’t make herself care about Birdie’s dog-earing of the page. “See, it’s this shade of green.”
“Oh, yes, it’s quite nice,” Cordelia said, only half looking at the picture. “I’d love to have a gown that color. Something like that would look lovely with your hair as well.” They had reached the front door by this point and Cordelia opened it. “Wouldn’t you prefer for me to call for the stable master to get your carriage ready?”
“I can walk over myself,” Birdie said, showing off both her independent streak and her impatience at the same time. “I’ll just hold up my skirts so they don’t get muddy. My driver should be somewhere out there. He used to work in our stables so he enjoys spending time around the horses.”
“If you’re sure then,” Cordelia said, her mind more on her husband than her sister for once. She was struck by the familiar urge to tell her sister that she needed to be more ladylike in spite of her anger, but knew Birdie probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. “Just don’t let Mrs. Richmond see you, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Of course not, dear sister.” Grinning, Birdie leaned forward and kissed her sister on the cheek. “I’ll come and see you again soon.”
“Please do.” Cordelia lingered by the door long enough to watch her sister go down the steps, then pull up her skirt almost to the tops of her socks and start across the damp ground toward the stables. Shaking her head, she closed the door. If Mrs. Richmond knew she had so much as seen Birdie running around the yard showing off her legs, she would somehow be the one to get the lecture.
Once she was certain her sister was far enough away not to hear anything, Cordelia turned on her heel and headed to the stairs. She held herself back from being just as inelegant as her sister by taking them two at a time, but only just. When she got to Arthur’s bedroom she didn’t bother knocking or listening to see if anyone was still inside, she grabbed the knob and twisted as hard as she could, not surprised to find that it was locked. Not caring what anyone else in the house thought, she pounded on the door as hard as she could. On the other side, she heard footsteps coming toward it and steeled herself for what she was about to see. Arthur opened the door cautiously, his shirt open and pants unbuttoned.
“Cordelia,” he said breathlessly. Over his shoulder she could see a young man hurriedly putting his clothes back on. He looked familiar to Cordelia but she couldn’t quite place him. “Darling, I thought you were visiting with your sister.”
“You promised me you would keep this out of our house!” Arthur flinched at the sound of her raised voice and made a shushing motion at her.
“Calm down,” he said, his voice quiet. “Someone will hear you.”
“I don’t care if the people over in town hear me,” Cordelia snapped. “This is honestly the last straw, Arthur! I’ve put up with this long enough. I can’t believe I even agreed to overlook this!”
“Excuse me,” the young man mumbled as he pushed past Arthur and Cordelia. He’d managed to get himself dressed quickly, which made Cordelia wonder how often he’d been doing this. She hardly paid attention to him as he hurried away from the bedroom toward the stairs without so much as a look at her.
“Please be quiet,” Arthur said. “I don’t want the servants hearing our private business.”
“I’m surprised it’s even private business at this point,” Cordelia snapped. “If you’re bringing your lovers in and out of the house in broad daylight, how do you think they haven’t figured it out already? I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in town knows. What do you think they’re saying about me?”
“Cordelia, please. If we’re going to discuss this, can we please just come into my room?” His voice was pleading at this point and Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, standing her ground.
“I don’t care who hears me. You broke your promise to me, now I’m breaking mine. I want a divorce immediately and I’ll go to the judge and tell them exactly what you’ve been doing. I’ll just leave out the bit that I’ve known for months.” She turned and started to walk away, but Arthur grabbed her arm in much the same way Victor had in the conservatory. She hadn’t thought she could get any angrier but it appeared she was wrong. “Let go of me! Why does every man think they can just put their hands on me whenever they like?”
“What? What are you talking about?” Arthur let go of her and she rounded on him.
“Just don’t touch me,” Cordelia said. “I’m through with this charade. It ends this instant. If you won’t grant me the divorce I’m going to make sure everyone knows what you’re up to and the judge will give me the divorce anyhow.”
“Please listen to me for just a moment,” Arthur said. “Then you can do whatever you want.”
“Go ahead then,” Cordelia said, hands on her hips. “I’m listening.”
“My father’s will doesn’t just say I must remain married, it also states that if I don’t I’ll lose everything. My title, the estate, everything I’ve inherited from him will go to charity and I’ll be destitute,” Arthur said. “I’m trying to find a way around it but it takes time. The will is legally binding so far as Mr. Pembroke has been able to see, and if a judge found out about my indiscretions he would most certainly rule against me.”
“Spare me your sad story,” Cordelia said. “What about my life? How do you expect me to go on pretending we have a marriage? It seems that you get to do whatever you want and expect for me to be a good wife and turn a blind eye to it all.”
“I’m thinking of you as well,” Arthur said. “If I lose everything, you get nothing as well. You can go back to your parents’ house but you won’t get anything from me to hold you over until you can find another husband.”
“I don’t---“
“If you just give me a bit of time to try and find a way to bypass Father’s c
onditions I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life, even if you find a new husband. I’ve already put it down in my own will that you’ll get everything you need.” He reached out as if to touch her face and Cordelia jerked her head away from him. “Please, Cordelia. I do care for you.”
“If you cared for me at all, you wouldn’t have put me in this position,” she said. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be in town. I don’t want to spend another moment under this roof with you right now.” This time when she turned away Arthur didn’t try to stop her and Cordelia went to her room and snatched a hat from her closet without looking to see if it matched her dress. She crammed it on her head without bothering with a hatpin or what it would do to her hair, then picked up her handbag and went to the stairs, passing her husband as she did.
“Don’t do this, Cordelia, please!”
She didn’t answer him as she nearly ran down the stairs, flung open the front door and walked across the yard in much the same fashion as her sister, only without holding up her skirts. She didn’t care about her dress or whether or not Mrs. Richmond saw her, only that she could get away from the estate and Arthur as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to look at him another moment.
“Pardon me,” she said sharply as she walked into the stable. The stable master jumped up from the chair where he had been dozing. “I need a driver to take me to town at once.”
“I can fetch him for you,” the stable master said. “I believe he’s in the servant’s quarters.” He turned to his assistant. “Hitch the horse up to milady’s carriage immediately.” To Cordelia he said “If you like, we can polish it up for you too.”
“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cordelia said. “It can be covered in mud for all I care. Just get me someone to take me to town and do it now.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The stable master ran for the servant’s quarters while his apprentice hurried the other way to get the carriage ready.
Cordelia stood in the stable, surrounded by the rich smell of the hay and the sharp aroma of the stalls and tried to hold her breath. As overwhelming as the combined smell was, she wanted to go back to the house even less than she wanted to stay in the stable and she looked around. The horses were beautiful. They were one of the things she would be giving up if she exposed her husband and she stepped forward to brush her fingers lightly across one of the horse’s velvety faces.
Only a Rogue Knows Page 8
