Hazel was standing with arms crossed, as she gazed about the room with a keen eye. “It is not sacrifice if it leads to safety,” she said pragmatically. “Besides, the Duke is a good man. You would be fortunate.”
Cordelia shook her head gently. “Fortunate, perhaps. But it is only a marriage of convenience. He offered to protect me, and I agreed. Nothing more.”
Hazel smiled, a rare softness touching her usually stern features. “You give him too little credit, Cordelia. Sometimes the heart knows more than we do.”
Matilda glanced toward the door wistfully. “If only my own story had ended so kindly. Robert’s deceit changed everything for me. But you, my dear friend, have a chance to shape your own fate.”
Cordelia’s smile faltered for a moment, the shadow of her friend’s pain touching her own heart. “I only wish it were so simple.”
“But it will be,” Hazel assured her. “You are stronger than you realize.”
“Oh, I do hope so,” Cordelia smiled, gazing at her own reflection in the looking glass.
Hazel stepped closer, her practical expression softening again. “You look lovely, Cordelia. No one could look at you today and think this anything other than the happiest of occasions.”
Matilda smiled shyly, folding her hands. “More than lovely. You look… radiant. I think I have never seen you so.”
Cordelia’s lips curved in polite thanks, but the words pricked at something deep within her. She could not deny the truth she had been avoiding all morning—that for her, this was not simply business.
Shewantedto be married to Mason. Not merely bound by law and name but by something more, by a closeness of soul, by affection freely given. She already had his friendship, and she treasured it more than she dared to admit. But she knew he would never look at her as she longed to be seen: not as an ally nor as a partner in convenience but as a woman.
Worse still, she knew she would never have his heart.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap, hidden from their view. She would not tell her friends this. They saw today as a triumph, and she would not shadow it with her private ache.
Finally, she smoothed her hands over her skirts, drawing in a slow, steady breath. “I believe I am ready,” she said at last.
Hazel and Matilda exchanged a glance, then each made a small adjustment: Hazel tugging at the bodice so it lay perfectly smooth, Matilda tucking back one last wayward curl.
“There,” Hazel declared with brisk satisfaction. “Now you are flawless.”
Matilda’s smile was softer. “They are all waiting in the garden. And I suspect the Dowager has already positioned herself for the best possible view.”
Cordelia rose, and both women embraced her briefly, their warmth genuine and unguarded. Then, with a final squeeze of her hand, they swept from the room, their chatter fading down the corridor.
She was alone.
For a moment, she only stood there with the stillness pressing around her like a held breath. She turned to the window. Below, the garden bloomed in early summer splendor, awash with color and sunlight. Rows of chairs were set upon the lawn, every seat filled with bright dresses, dark coats, and faces alight with expectation.
They were all so cheerful, so certain this was the beginning of something happy.
Cordelia’s fingers tightened on the sill. She inhaled deeply, the scent of roses drifting faintly up to her. She told herself to step forward, to play her part, to be grateful for the life this would give her.
And yet… her heart beat uncomfortably fast, as though it knew she was walking toward both her salvation and her sorrow.
Mason stood before the gathered guests with his hands clasped loosely behind his back and the weight of expectation pressing on his shoulders. The sun shone warm upon the garden, the air thick with the scent of roses and fresh-cut grass.
And yet, there was no bride.
Seconds bled into minutes. The murmur of polite conversation gave way to curious whispers. A rustle passed through the crowd as heads began to turn, eyes seeking the path from the house. Somewhere, someone chuckled nervously.
Mason’s gaze remained fixed on the doorway. Each heartbeat came louder than the last, the silence stretching until it was almost unbearable. She should have been here by now.
A sharp thread of worry pulled tight in his chest. Had she changed her mind? The thought struck hard, and to his own surprise, he felt not only concern for the scandal that might follow but fear, fear that she had chosen to walk away from him.
He swallowed, glancing toward the house again. If another minute passed, he would go in himself, find her, and ask her to come. He did not care in what terms she agreed to have him. He only knew he wanted her as his wife in whatever way she could bear.
Just as he took a step forward, the doorway darkened.
