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Michael held the umbrella as they walked towards the front doors. Pembroke glowed in the distance within the downpour, light managing to show the way from the windows. When they arrived at the front steps, Irene already stood outside, her delicately pale blue dress covered by a deeply dark cloak.

“Irene!” Cordelia exclaimed when she realized it was her sister. “What on earth are you doing? Get inside before you catch a cold!”

She merely waved a hand in the air dismissively before grabbing a hold of Cordelia and giving her a tight squeeze. “I only wished to greet you, sister,” Irene murmured in her ear. “And a little rain never hurt anyone.” Her gaze focused on Michael and she gave him a polite bow. “It is a pleasure, your Grace. I hope you are well.”

Michael merely nodded. “You as well.”

The front doors swung open.

“I thought I heard you.” Duncan stood on the threshold, his lip already pulled down in a displeased frown. “Come inside, won’t you?” He reached to shake Michael’s hand as he entered. “Your Grace,” he said, the pair of them sharing a similarly gruff greeting.

Pembroke was delicately warm on the inside, smelling of sweet madeira wine and a dinner roast being carved. The foyer was quiet, though a few voices were carried through from the nearest parlour. Cordelia breathed it in, desperate to calm her racing heart before the evening truly began.

“Aunt Patience is over here,” Irene said, gesturing towards the parlour. “I know she is looking forward to seeing you.”

Cordelia bit back a bitter laugh. “Truly?”

“Well, you’ve been the talk of the town,” Duncan replied instead, his sarcasm hardly evident from the lack of a smile on his handsome face. “The pair of you.”

Michael raised a brow. “I believe any rumors spread by the Ton have been put to rest recently.”

“Our Aunt is a different story,” Duncan said.

“Different how?”

Duncan glanced at his sisters silently.

“She is merely a gossip herself,” Irene finished for him, her arm tucked around Cordelia’s. “Perhaps not an outrightly harmful thing, but an unpleasant habit altogether.”

“I assume this means she has heard the rumors surrounding my husband and I,” Cordelia said in a quiet voice. “Is that right?”

Irene pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Very well.” Cordelia straightened herself and ran her hands over her dress, the finest piece she owned.

While she expected it to be enough to satisfy her Aunt’s prestigious tastes, she was quickly becoming aware of the conversation that was bound to take place. Instantly, Cordelia was brought back to her youth, when her Aunt would circle her like a caged animal, picking out every flaw and mistake she ever made.

“Shall we?” Cordelia asked.

Irene pulled her arm away, giving the space for Michael to stand alongside her. He strode forward, his hand hovering before taking Cordelia’s, like any married couple might do. Cordelia, ignoring the flare of unease that swirled in her stomach at her husband’s closeness, held her chin up as they walked into the parlour.

“Finally!”

Aunt Patience rose from a long sofa, her delicately brown hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. A green dress fell down her shoulders, brilliantly shimmering jewelry around her neck and hanging from her ears. As she watched the married couple stride towards her, the Earl of Pembroke stood alongside her, his expression kind and unaware of the tension lying around him. On the loveseat beside them, Cordelia’s cousin James stood, streaks of grey now beginning to appear within his dark hair.

Aunt Patience had the same starkness Cordelia’s father’s face once had. There were sharp, angular points in the woman’s face, casting shadows across her chest and neck. A crooked brow, always raised and always judgemental, was Aunt Patience’s trademark, even if she didn’t believe it to be. Cordelia remembered it from her childhood, and felt flashed backwards a decade at seeing it then. She glanced up at Michael, but his expression remained unchanged: stoic and calm.

Cordelia repeated a familiar mantra in her head:calm and collected.

“I thought we lost you to the rain, dear,” Aunt Patience cooed as she went to greet Cordelia. Her hands immediately went for Cordelia’s face, one long finger hooking around her chin as if she was a fish to be caught. Aunt Patience turned and twisted her face every which way, getting a look from every angle possible. “My, my,” she drawled, that brow raising even higher, “What a woman young Cordelia has grown into!”

Holding back her pleasure, Cordelia tried to remind herself that the compliments were always followed by the polite insults. “Good evening, Aunt,” Cordelia said. “Uncle, I pray your business has been well.” She turned her attention to her cousin. “And James! What a pleasure to see you again. I am ashamed to admit I cannot recall our last acquaintance.”

James chuckled, one hand over his round belly. “Seeing you were no taller than my hip the last we saw each other, I would be surprised if you did!”

“Our cousin has had spectacular business in Portsmouth, sister,” Irene blurted as she rounded the couch. “Perhaps he might disclose the talk with your husband.”

Cordelia was about to turn her attention towards James and Michael, but Aunt Patience had other plans. Cordelia was more than aware of her sister’s quick thinking, in the efforts to distract the Countess from focusing too much on the Ton’s gossiping. If it was that simple, Cordelia wouldn’t have dreaded the party at all. But just as she opened her mouth to ask James about his business, Aunt Patience snatched onto her wrist once more.