Page 26 of A Duchess Worth Stealing (Saved by Scandal #2)
Chapter Twenty-Four
T he following morning, Cordelia found herself in her chamber, smoothing the folds of her traveling cloak while her heart fluttered with both excitement and nerves.
Downstairs, the air was filled with the soft bustle of servants preparing their departure. The carriage awaited, polished and ready, gleaming beneath the clear blue sky.
The Dowager Duchess stood near the door, her smile warm and genuine. “Brighton by the Sea is a most romantic place, my dear. You’ll find it quite enchanting.”
Cordelia returned the smile, grateful for the Dowager’s kindness. “I am certain I shall.”
The Dowager’s eyes twinkled as she leaned closer.
“Now, do be sure to visit the shop on Marine Parade for the finest tea, and the little bakery near the Pavilion for the best scones you’ll ever taste.
” She chuckled softly. “Though I dare say Mason will be eager to show you every charming corner himself.”
At that moment, Mason appeared in the doorway, his usual confident smirk softened by the quiet warmth in his amber eyes. His gaze settled on Cordelia with an expression that spoke more than words ever could.
“Shall we?” he asked, extending a steady arm.
Cordelia took it without hesitation, the contact steadying the wild beating of her heart.
Together they descended the grand staircase, greeted by the gentle murmur of assembled staff and a few early guests bidding them farewell.
The sun sparkled on polished carriages and gleaming harnesses as the world stirred to life around them.
Outside, the carriage waited with its dark lacquer shining and its brass fittings catching the light like jewels. The scent of freshly cut lavender and polished leather mingled in the air.
The Dowager Duchess gave a final, fond smile. “Take care of each other, my dears. This journey marks a new chapter… may it bring you happiness beyond what you dare imagine.”
Cordelia felt the warmth of unshed tears prick her eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace… for everything.”
Mason merely nodded, approaching his mother for a kiss on the cheek.
A moment later, he opened the carriage door, offering his hand to Cordelia once more.
She stepped inside, settling onto the plush velvet seat as the door closed behind her with a soft click.
The horses’ hooves struck the cobblestones in a rhythmic cadence, and the carriage slowly pulled away from the estate.
Cordelia leaned gently against Mason’s side, breathing in the crisp morning air scented faintly with sea salt and blooming gardenias. As the familiar grounds receded behind them, she found herself filled with a curious blend of hope and apprehension.
Mason’s voice broke the comfortable silence.
“Brighton has long been a refuge for me,” he began, a hint of fondness softening his usual guarded tone.
“When I was young, my cousin, Jasper, and I would escape here whenever the London season wearied us. We were no angels, I assure you, more often mischief than manners.”
Cordelia smiled, intrigued by this rare glimpse into his youth. “Mischief, you say? Do tell.”
He chuckled in a way that made her want to hear more.
“Once, we rigged the fishing boats to sail without their owners’ knowledge, sending them drifting far out to sea before anyone noticed.
Another time, we painted the town red, quite literally, when we decorated the mayor’s carriage with ribbons and roses during the summer festival. ”
Her laughter rang clear, genuine, and unrestrained. “I should have thought the Duke of Galleon far too dignified for such escapades.”
His amber eyes gleamed with mischief. “Appearances, my dear Duchess, can be most deceiving.”
Cordelia leaned her head gently against the window, the simple closeness to him a balm to the nerves still fluttering beneath her skin. She could already imagine the charm of the seaside town: the salty breeze, the quiet sands, the sweet shops and tea rooms the Dowager Duchess had described.
Cordelia had no idea how long the ride lasted, but when the carriage finally came to a halt, she glanced out of the window to see a grand yet unpretentious manor nestled among swaying dunes and wildflower meadows. Her breath caught as she took in the sight that unfolded before her.
The house was a graceful Georgian structure, its pale stone walls softened by climbing ivy and the blush of blooming roses. Tall windows caught the sunlight like polished glass, and a wide veranda wrapped around the front, offering a perfect vantage point over the shimmering sea just beyond.
Cordelia stepped down from the carriage, her skirts rustling softly. The fresh, salty air filled her lungs, carrying with it the scent of the ocean and sweet honeysuckle. She felt a stirring of wonder and delight and a quiet thrill at the thought of calling this place home, even if only for a time.
Mason helped her off the carriage, smiling. “Welcome to Galleon Hall, Cordelia.”
Before she could say anything to that, his eyes swept the grounds with a growing unease. The estate seemed eerily quiet. There was not a single servant in the gardens nor a figure near the house.
He stepped forward and called out, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Only the soft rustling of the sea breeze answered him.
Cordelia noticed the tightening of his jaw and the flicker of worry in his amber eyes. “Is something wrong?” she asked gently, placing a hand on his arm.
He shook his head though his gaze remained restless. “I’m not certain. It is unusual… the place feels empty, as if everyone has vanished.”
Cordelia’s brows furrowed, but she quickly found her voice. “Shall we go inside? Perhaps the household staff are within, preparing for our arrival.”
Mason nodded, grateful for her calmness. Together they approached the wide front door, its polished wood gleaming in the sunlight. However, even though they were expected, the door did not give in.
“Locked?” Cordelia echoed.
“Yes, but…” He grinned, producing a key from his pocket.
He proceeded to unlock the door and then they stepped into the hall. As soon as they did so, they felt the quiet emptiness of the exterior being replaced by an air of warmth and elegance.
The interior was every bit as beautiful as Cordelia had imagined. There were soft tapestries adorning the walls while the floors shone beneath richly woven carpets, and sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting a golden glow over polished furniture and delicate porcelain.
“Come,” Mason urged her as they wandered through the vast rooms on the ground floor, calling softly for any sign of life.
The heavy silence felt almost unnatural, and Mason’s brow furrowed deeper with every unanswered call.
“I was certain I informed everyone of our arrival,” he muttered more to himself than to her. “I urged them to have everything prepared.”
Cordelia glanced at him, puzzled. “Could it be that someone has mistaken the date?” she ventured gently.
He looked at her. “What day is it, then?”
“Why, the twenty-second of June,” she replied.
His eyes widened as realization dawned. He brought a hand to his forehead, tapping it in frustrated disbelief.
“How could I be so silly? I entirely forgot about the Midsummer Revelry in Brightmere. It’s a grand festival; the entire town attends. No exceptions. And besides, we did arrive a tad bit earlier than expected.”
Cordelia smiled, a light laugh escaping her lips. “Well, then, it’s no one’s fault.”
Mason nodded, a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth. “An honest mistake, certainly. But it means we are on our own for the evening… and for food.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Do we have to hunt?”
He chuckled, playful and warm. “Yes, indeed. A hunt for supper, Duchess.”
Her laughter rang through the quiet hall, and for a moment, her worries slipped away like the gentle sea breeze.
“Now, we have two options,” she heard him say as he approached her. “We could go into town and join the festivities, or we could have a makeshift dinner here and just…”
“Be alone,” she added faster than her brain could stop her. She blushed fervently. “I mean, alone in the sense that we’ve been traveling all day, and I don’t know about you, but I’m very tired, exhausted even, and crowds would only exhaust me more,” she blurted out, much to his amusement.
He nodded. “I couldn’t have said it better. I mean, I could have said it in fewer words, but that’s all right.”
His comment made her chuckle then she asked. “Why don’t we bring the luggage in first?”
“Allow me,” he said, walking past her.
She rushed after him. “Allow me to help,” she suggested.
He frowned, throwing a quick glance back at her. “What sort of a gentleman would I be if I allowed you to lift a finger?”
She smiled in return, grateful for the small kindness amid the unexpected solitude. The grand house, so imposing by day, now felt intimate and inviting by candlelight. Flickering flames cast warm shadows against the walls, softening the edges of the stately furnishings.
About half an hour later, they were seated across from each other at the dining hall table. Mason set the modest array of provisions on the polished oak table: a crusty loaf of bread, a wedge of sharp cheddar, a small jar of honey, and a few slices of cold roast beef wrapped carefully in cloth.
Cordelia glanced at the humble fare and smiled inwardly. Though simple, to her, it was the sweetest feast she had ever seen, made richer by the quiet company and the soft candlelight flickering between them.
Beforehand, Mason retrieved a bottle of wine from the cellar, its deep red hue now catching the glow of the flames. He poured two glasses, the liquid catching the light like rubies, and offered one to her with a teasing smirk.
“To the unexpected,” he said, raising his glass.
Cordelia clinked her glass gently against his, her smile growing. The wine was rich and smooth, a pleasant surprise that somehow made the evening feel more special.
As they began to eat, the conversation unfolded with a lightness neither had expected. Mason raised an eyebrow, eyeing the bread with mock solemnity.
“Your taste is most regal, Your Grace. Only a real Duchess would settle for such a humble loaf.”
Cordelia laughed softly, leaning forward with a teasing spark in her eyes. “And you, Your Grace, seem far too passionate about that cheddar. One would think you believed it to be the finest treasure in the cellar.”
He grinned, taking a hearty bite of the cheese. “Perhaps I do,” he replied, winking. “But only because it’s the company that makes it truly exquisite.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she met his smile without shying away. The easy banter slipped between them like a welcome breeze, carrying away the heaviness of their titles and obligations.
Cordelia found her curiosity nudging her forward. She studied Mason’s face, a strong, sharp profile softened by the playfulness in his eyes, and couldn’t help asking. “You have so many smiles. I wonder… do they all mean the same thing?”
Mason paused, a rare moment of vulnerability flickering across his features.
“No,” he admitted with a wry smile. “Some are for the ton. You know, the polite, practiced sort. Others are for mischief or teasing. And then there are the rare ones, the true smiles, reserved for those who see beyond the surface.”
“I recognized that first one immediately,” she admitted.
“You did?” he inquired curiously. “Not many people do.”
“Mhm,” she confirmed. “And I owe it all to my mother. She had a smile for the ton always. After a while, I don’t think she even knew how to smile properly anymore.
She believed that a woman’s worth was tied to her beauty and the match she made, and the only way to do this was through a perfect smile. ”
She swallowed heavily, wondering if she should say the next sentence. But with this man, there was nothing else she wanted to keep a secret any longer. She felt as if he saw the real her, and the real her wanted to give him the gift of honesty.
“She always said that after marriage, and especially after bearing children, a woman lost her value. Those words… they’ve haunted me.”
“I think that sometimes, parents say or do things that haunt us, whether they mean to or not,” he mused. “What about your father?”
Mason’s hand reached across the table, finding hers in quiet comfort. Cordelia swallowed the lump in her throat and continued. “My father was a kind man, trusting almost to a fault. He believed that my guardian, a titled man, would look after me. But that trust was terribly misplaced.”
She looked up, meeting Mason’s steady gaze. She half-expected him to pull away, to prove her mother’s point, but instead he stayed, and in that quiet moment, the fragile hope of what might be shimmered between them like the candle’s soft glow.