Page 54

Michael’s brow shot up. Beside him, Cordelia gazed up at him, a smile twitching across her lips. For a moment, he was clouded with an emotion he couldn’t understand. The same feeling that once plagued him within the orangery came rushing back, almost knocking him off his seat. It was the feeling of being enamoured, stuck on the beauty of something and unable to look away. Cordelia looked like the blossoming flowers she planted in the orangery: bright with life and sharp.

He bit back the smile that threatened to peak across his face.

“Knowing my wife, I can believe it quite well,” Michael finally said.

Irene chuckled as she raised her glass to her lips.

“Well, now,” Cordelia drawled, her eyes flashing combatively, though it was obviously humorous. “You hardly know Duncan well enough to make such broad -”

“Cordelia.”

Silence snapped across the table as all the guests turned their attention towards the Countess’s venomous tone. She shook her head ever so slightly, her gaze never once daring to leave Cordelia. The longer she stared, the more Cordelia shrank, her humor quickly dissipating. At the head of the table, the Earl had the same air about him, a disapproving stare holding onto his youngest niece.

“A lady does not allow herself to be so inappropriately excited at a crowded dinner table,” the Countess reprimanded. “Do you not remember your mother’s finest example, may she rest in peace?”

Cordelia held herself up surprisingly well. “No, Aunt. Mother passed away when I was far too young to remember.”

The Countess waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous! If you did not remember the things your mother naturally taught you, that is a crime upon you, not the woman’s fault!”

“Of course it isn’t her fault,” Cordelia said. “That isn’t what I meant at all.”

“Well, if you were a respectable student like either one of your siblings, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, wouldn’t we?” The Countess snapped. She quickly turned her attention towards Michael, a sweet smile hiding the vile whip beneath. “Your Grace, I must apologize for my niece. We pray those childish things she once did are all in the past, don’t we, William?”

The Earl nodded. “Way in the past, your Grace.”

Michael stiffened, unsure of how to proceed. Beside him, Cordelia kept her lips pressed firmly together, though a storm was beginning to brew behind her eyes. “Well,” he finally said, intent on closing the conversation, “I wouldn’t say that -”

“I know how humble you must be, your Grace, like our beloved Irene,” the Countess interjected. “Cordelia was once such a spoiled child, something I’m sure you’ve come across over the past few years. Though I can only imagine that a fine gentleman like yourself with suchproperupbringing managed to tame her rather quickly.”

“Aunt Patience!” Cordelia blurted, her eyes wide as a redness swarmed to her cheeks. She glanced sideways at Michal every once and a while, shrinking away any time he met her gaze. “You are embarrassing me!”

The Countess waved her hand in the air between them once more. “I blame the spoiling on her mother, may she rest in peace, your Grace,” she effortlessly continued. “Cordelia was the youngest, after all, and the poor thing was in her later days. Can you imagine having a child demanding things from you at every possible second?” The Countess shook her head with a sigh. “Such a shameful thing.”

“I-I am not spoiled,” Cordelia said in a quiet voice.

Michael remained silent. He doubted it would be too long before Cordelia finally snapped back. It was hard to believe she lasted that long without doing it already, but he couldn’t imagine her staying quiet. She couldn’t.Could she?

“Spoiling a child leads to one thing, and one thing only, your Grace,” the Countess said. She leaned towards him, as if no one else was at the table. “Perpetual disobedience.” She shrugged matter of factually. “Eventually, they believe it is allowed, and are the most disobedient of creatures. Whether it be putting toads in tutors’ tea,” the Countess paused to eye the Celeston siblings, “Or refusing to be the proper lady they were raised to be. Cordelia is a perfect example.”

“You speak as if I am still a child,” Cordelia said, her voice raising ever so slightly. “The disobedience you speak of, Aunt, is -”

“Interrupting your superiors is beyond rude, Cordelia,” the Countess snapped, her brow raised in an angry way. “And you dare to say you are an obedient lady?” She laughed, though it was sharp and without humor. The Countess focused her attention back to Michael. “Honestly, your Grace, I greatly pity the burden placed upon your shoulders in wedding my niece. You are beyond humble to take such a thing on your chest without complaint, your Grace.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted.

“It is the grueling job of the husband to right his wife’s wrongs,” the Countess said. “All along, for years upon years, I told that brother of mine that a swift engagement would end the trials he faced with Cordelia. A husband, one of strength and strong birth, would correct that attitude in a matter of days, I told him. Now, he tried his best with that -”

Cordelia rattled the table as she pushed her seat back, snatching the attention of all the dinner guests. “Aunt Patience,” she snapped, her voice rigid and trembling. “I do not appreciate the manner in which you speak of me in front of my husband.”

“Calm yourself, dear!” The Countess laughed, glancing around the table with her hands out, as if she hadn’t uttered a complaint in the first place. “What point would there be in complaining about the past? It is long gone now, no need to be rude about it!”

Cordelia slumped against her seat in a dejected way. There wasn’t a tear in her eye, but a sort of sadness glazed over her as the conversation carried on around the table. Irene and Duncan hardly said a word, perhaps out of fear of upsetting their wealthy and well liked Countess of an Aunt and Earl of an Uncle. Perhaps they remained silent out of the mere obedience the Countess spoke of. Michael could not deny the morals in which she carried on with. There was a time and place for the petulance Cordelia wielded, though he found it charming, in a way. What was she without it, other than another Lady in a crowd of the Ton?

Michael watched her closely. Any minute now, he figured, she would stand from the table and demand to be excused. She would pull him along with her, marching towards the front door without even gathering her coats. Through rain and storms. Michael watched, but never saw it come into fruition. Cordelia merely listened to the words her Aunt spoke, and took them all like a lashing.

Michael’s brow furrowed as the realization of her silence settled into him. If she refused to stand up for herself at Pembroke, what gave her the courage to stand up to him each and every day? If he dared to utter such things to her, Cordelia would have argued the moment he opened his mouth. Suddenly, she was as frightened as a child, and it gave him a far greater irritation than he thought it would.

“You are right, Aunt,” Cordelia finally said.