“Oh, well… I wouldn’t call it a seduction,” Cordelia said hurriedly. “Seduction implies candlelight and violins and maybe a chaise lounge, not surprise corridor encounters and commentary on one’sbudding ripenesswhich, I must say, is the single worst phrase anyone has ever used about my person.”
His expression turned stormy. It never crossed his mind that a man could act so dishonorably as to make a young lady feel like that. The reasons behind such behavior seemed dark…toodark to fathom, although he knew that there was malice in the world. Sometimes, it wore familiar masks in an effort to disguise its evil intentions.
But Cordelia pressed on, the words spilling faster now. “I told him no. Of course, I told him no as politely as I could because that’s what women do, isn’t it? We smile and flutter and pretend to find sudden interest in potted plants to avoid being difficult. And Ididtry to get away. I even curtsied, which felt wildly inappropriate under the circumstances. But then he grabbed my wrist and said something vile about my inheritance and how we could cut out the legalities entirely if I would only be sensible.”
At this, she drew a deep, shaky breath.
“My father trusted him,” she said, much more softly. “When he died, Lord Vernon was named my guardian until I reached theage of seven-and-twenty. My mother had already passed, and I was told I should be grateful that he had been a friend of the family, that he was doing his duty. I had no reason to doubt him… until tonight.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, with terrifying calm, he asked, “And he chased you into the library?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I ran. There was a bust. There was shouting. I think I knocked over a tray of biscuits which may have hit a potted fern. And then, I found the poker. Andthenit found his head.”
“So, you were defending yourself.”
Cordelia looked up at him, and he was unsure what she expected to find on his face: disgust, suspicion, horror. He had to admit that he felt none of it. All he could feel was a growing fury, low and quiet and simmering just beneath the surface of his ever-present smirk.
“Yes,” she said softly. “But even so. If he had died, if he had broken something, if someone had walked in before you, it would have been my word against his. And his word comes with a title and a seat in the Lords and a rather fashionable coat whereas I have only my wit and an ill-timed swing.”
He didn’t say anything to that because he knew that she was telling the truth now about everything.
Cordelia clasped her hands behind her back. “I am not proud of what I did.”
“You should be,” he said coldly.
She blinked.
His amber eyes met hers. “If I had walked in five minutes later, what would have happened?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. He swore under his breath and paced to the hearth. After what seemed like an entire eternity to him, he finally faced her again.
“Fine.”
“Fine what?” she echoed.
“If you are to stay here for the duration of your absurd plan to reach your inheritance without the world devouring you whole, then you will agree to my conditions.”
She blinked. “You haveconditions?”
“Three.” He paused then continued, holding up a single finger for every condition. “One, you will leave when the month is over. Two, you are not, under any circumstances, to enter the forest beyond the southern edge of the estate. It is steep and overgrown, and if you become lost, I will not go after you.”
Her brow furrowed slightly at that, but she nodded. “Fine. No forest.”
“And three,” he said more quietly, “what happened in the library is not to happen again.”
She blinked. “The… poker?”
He stared at her.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “The other bit.”
He said nothing.
Cordelia cleared her throat. “Of course. Yes… I mean, obviously.”
“Good.”
There was a pause then quite unexpectedly, she crossed the room and threw her arms around him, making him freeze. Her arms were small but fiercely determined. Her cheek pressed briefly against the front of his coat. She was warm and faintly smelled of lavender and misplaced courage.
