Cordelia groaned louder. Matilda patted her hair sympathetically.
“I think,” Matilda said gently, “that he may be a bit like you.”
Cordelia lifted her head. “Impossible. I’m not grumpy and terrifying.”
“No,” Hazel agreed. “You’re reckless and exhausting. Opposite shapes but same puzzle.”
Cordelia sighed, taking the teacup now offered to her. “I came to London to forget him, to remember who I was before he started calling me difficult in that maddeningly lovely voice.”
Hazel smirked. “And yet here you are, discussing him over scones and scandal.”
“I miss being boring,” Cordelia said mournfully. “And certain.”
“Oh darling,” Matilda said softly, “you were never boring.”
“And never certain,” Hazel added with a smirk.
Cordelia lifted her teacup in mock toast. “To womanhood. And madness. And men who are too handsome to be decent.”
They all clinked their cups.
Matilda was mid-sip when she paused suddenly “Speaking of dead men…”
Cordelia straightened. “Please don’t.”
“No, truly,” Hazel said, setting down her teacup with the same finality one might use to draw a sword. “There have been whispers.”
Cordelia blinked. “About corpses in libraries?”
“No, about… you know who.”
Hazel folded her hands as she spoke which always meant that she was discussing very serious topics. “Lord Vernon is being chased around by debtors. Several, in fact. I heard from Lady Whitby just yesterday that he was nearly accosted outside hisclub. And someone mentioned debtor’s prison… not in jest either.”
Cordelia’s teacup froze halfway to her mouth. “Oh.”
“Cordelia,” Matilda whispered, her brows knitting with worry. “he knows where you are, does he not?”
Cordelia swallowed. “Yes.”
Hazel’s expression sharpened. “Then you must be cautious. More than cautious, you must be vigilant. Men like that do not lose their pride easily nor their entitlement. Especially when money is involved.”
Cordelia stared at the tea leaves swirling gently at the bottom of her cup. She wished the answers might be hidden there, written out neatly like the recipe for raspberry tarts or a list of things one ought never to say to a duke.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not a complete fool.”
“Certainly not,” Hazel said firmly. “You’re just prone to dramatic escapes, unsupervised schemes, and adopting large, emotionally unavailable men as projects.”
“That last one was not intentional!” Cordelia protested.
“None of them ever are,” Matilda said quietly.
Hazel leaned in, gentler now. “Do you plan to stay with them indefinitely? At the duke’s estate?”
Cordelia sighed. “No. There’s a deal. I’m only to stay until my birthday. A month.”
Matilda blinked. “A month?”
“Dear heavens,” Hazel muttered, “you’ve been living in that man’s house under ducal protection, and you plan to just… leave?”
