Page 3 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Three

T o Cordelia’s immense relief, Lord Basing had not appeared at her door demanding her hand in marriage over the so-called “almost kiss” he had forced upon her.

Though, in truth, the more she thought about it, the less it resembled anything of the sort.

A kiss required affection, willingness… Lips that met, rather than one mouth puckered mid-air without ever touching hers.

She shuddered at the memory. But almost immediately, her thoughts turned to her rescuer.

The Duke of Walpole.

What a contradiction he was—severe on the outside, every inch the austere nobleman, yet underneath, he had shown her unexpected kindness.

He had no reason to come to her aid, no obligation to step in as he had, and yet he had done so swiftly, without hesitation.

A man like that—self-possessed, powerful, untouchable—had held her and comforted her with surprising gentleness.

He had unsettled her. Not just because of his handsomeness, which was undeniable, but because of the way he had made her feel.

Safe.

She sat alone in her sister’s private parlor, having just sealed a small stack of letters bound for their sisters in Hampshire.

She left them on the silver salver for the footman and made her way to the settee, stretching her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling as she allowed herself a moment of quiet.

Would she find a suitor this Season? Someone who truly stirred her heart? She hoped so. How she hoped so. She did not want to end the Season as Isabella had, disillusioned and weary from the endless balls, meaningless conversations, and shallow proposals.

The sound of men’s voices and the gentle lilt of Rosalind’s laughter echoed from the hallway, drawing her attention. She straightened at once, brushing her skirts into place just before the door opened.

In walked her brother-in-law, the Duke of Ravensmere, followed by her sister, and—of all men—His Grace, the Duke of Walpole.

Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat.

“Ah, Cordelia, we did not know you were in here,” Rosalind said, smiling as she motioned for her to stand and make her curtsy to the guest.

Cordelia rose quickly, smoothing her bodice and ensuring her skirts weren’t tangled awkwardly around her ankles. She dipped into a graceful curtsy. “Good afternoon, Your Graces. I hope I find you all well.”

Rosalind slipped her arm through hers, smiling with the quiet affection of an older sister. “We’re very well, my dear. Though I thought you were to ride with Isabella this afternoon. She told me she was going to the park with you?”

Cordelia frowned. “I hadn’t heard of any such plan. I’ve been here, writing letters to home.”

“Ah. Well then, perhaps she made other arrangements.”

Ravensmere turned to her. “You’ve been introduced to Walpole, I take it?”

Cordelia nodded. “I have had the pleasure, Your Grace.” She cast a glance toward the duke. He was watching her, not impolitely, but with a quiet intensity that stirred something low in her belly.

She quickly looked away. “Lovely to see you again, Your Grace,” she added, her voice careful as to not give away the nerves that somersaulted in her stomach.

“And you, Lady Cordelia,” he returned, inclining his head. “I trust your entertainments have been uneventful since last we met.”

A blush crept up her cheeks. Did he mean the incident with Lord Basing? Surely he did. All she could hope was her sister and husband did not think anything of the duke’s words. “It has been as it should be, thank you. And yours?”

He gave a slow nod. “Uneventful, which is precisely how I prefer it.”

“Of course.” She smiled politely, though part of her wished to ask more. Why had he come to town this year? Was it only for political matters, or was he seeking a bride?

She remained quiet as the men began discussing country estates and the recent renovations to Walpole’s hunting lodge.

“In fact,” the duke said, “I’m hosting a house party in a fortnight’s time. The estate is just a short journey from London, something to break up the monotony. You are all invited, naturally. Including Lady Isabella if she wishes to attend.”

“How lovely of you,” Rosalind said warmly, glancing at her husband.

“We should be pleased to attend,” Ravensmere replied. “And I’d very much like to see this new lodge of yours. I’ve heard the design is most modern.”

“You shall receive formal invitations within the week. My steward is handling the guest list.” Walpole’s gaze met Cordelia’s again, and once more she felt the tense fluttering in her chest. Nerves? Attraction? She didn’t know. But she wished it would stop.

He was just so very…composed. So tall. So broad of shoulder. And when he looked at her like that, with those sharp green eyes, it unmoored her. And now that she knew he had a softer side hidden beneath all that severity… It only made things worse.

“It’s good that you’re in town, Your Grace,” Cordelia said, grasping for something to say. “Are you attending the Weston’s masked ball tonight? I’ve heard it’s to be quite the event.”

“Ah, alas, no. A prior engagement has taken me elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

Cordelia’s smile faltered and before she hoped anyone noticed, she righted it again. “That is too bad,” Rosalind said, glancing slyly at her sister, which Cordelia very much wished she would not do.

The duke looked about the room. He seemed unimpressed by Rosalind’s beautiful new furnishings, but perhaps he wasn’t the type to notice interior design. Or perhaps he was simply bored of being here.

“Yes,” he said, “a shame. I do enjoy a good masque. But duty calls.”

And with that, any foolish hope she’d harbored that he might come merely to see her evaporated. He was not disappointed to be missing the event. He had only helped her two nights before because of his connection to Ravensmere and because he was a gentleman at heart with morals. Nothing more.

“Well,” Rosalind said brightly, moving to ring the bellpull, “shall I have tea brought up, or are you gentlemen off to the study to discuss weightier matters?”

“No tea for me, but thank you,” Walpole said. “Though I must steal Ravensmere for a few minutes if I may. A matter I hoped to speak with him about.”

“Not at all,” Rosalind said, waving them off.

As the men turned to go, Cordelia could not help but watch the duke retreat. “Good afternoon to you both,” he said over his shoulder. He did not look at her.

She sighed and slumped beside Rosalind. “How handsome can one man be?” she whispered. “And to think he has a title and wealth as well. Some people really do win the chance of birth.”

“Very fortunate indeed,” Rosalind replied, resuming her embroidery. “But so are you. You are the daughter of a duke and an heiress in your own right. No different to him.”

“But he has freedoms we shall never have. That alone makes me envious.”

Rosalind made a noncommittal sound. “Do you like him?”

Cordelia turned to her sister sharply. “Pardon?”

Rosalind placed her embroidery in her lap and met her gaze. “I asked if you liked Walpole. You seemed a little jumpy when we arrived. And when he spoke to you, you fidgeted so much I thought you might pull your fingers from your hands.”

Cordelia groaned. “I do like him. Of course I like him. But I don’t know him well enough to know if I like him in that way. And I sincerely hope I didn’t appear as discombobulated as you say. How mortifying.”

Rosalind laughed softly. “No, you did not embarrass yourself. But I am your sister. I see things others do not.”

Cordelia dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, I do hope you’re right. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m some featherbrained child.”

“He doesn’t strike me as a man who thinks lightly of anyone,” Rosalind said gently. “And if he truly thought poorly of you, he would not have come to call today.”

Cordelia lifted her head slowly, heart skipping at the possibility. But no, she mustn’t read too much into things.

She mustn't hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing when it came to men like the Duke of Walpole. “Do not be absurd, the duke did not come to visit me,” she stated, even though her heart gave a lurch at the thought.

“Perhaps not,” Rosalind agreed. “But it did not stop him from seeing you in any case, and that is always a good start.”

Cordelia thought on her sister’s words, unable to agree to her sibling’s point of view. The duke had come to see Ravensmere, and she would be a fool to think otherwise and give hope where there was none to be had.