Beneath her calm exterior, a quiet tension lingered. Lord Vernon’s face intruded unbidden upon her thoughts, and she could not shake the certainty that he was scheming again, plotting some new method to claim what he could not. The uncertainty, the not knowing when or how he might strike, made her stomach twist in apprehension.
She straightened her posture and forced a light laugh at some trivial remark from Matilda, careful not to reveal the wariness coiled so tightly inside her. Cordelia was aware, painfully aware, that she must not let her fear show. And yet, in the quiet corners of her mind, her heart raced at the thought of what Lord Vernon might attempt next.
That was when the parlor door swung open with a flourish, and Jasper Everleigh stepped in, with his eyes immediately sweeping over the room.
“My word! How luminous the ladies of this house appear today,” he declared with a mischievous bow that nearly sent a single silvery curl of hair tipping forward.
Matilda lifted an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a line. “Empty flattery, I should say, is terribly impolite, Your Grace.”
Jasper’s amber eyes sparkled with amusement, unshaken. “Ah, but Madam, one must take care not to mistake truth for flattery. Were I to speak otherwise, I would indeed be guilty of deception.”
Cordelia and Hazel exchanged knowing glances as Matilda’s lips twitched with reluctant mirth. “Deception, you say? Then perhaps you are in great peril here, for I assure you, we are impervious to charm,” Matilda replied, her tone clipped but her eyes betraying amusement.
Jasper’s grin widened, tilting his head as if savoring the challenge. “Ah, but the truly impervious are the most delightful to pursue,” he countered smoothly.
Matilda’s eyes flashed, and she jabbed a finger at him. “Delightful to pursue, perhaps, but far more satisfying to resist.”
A ripple of laughter passed between Cordelia and Hazel, the sound light and warm. Cordelia felt a flicker of amusement herself though she could not deny the tension she sensed in Matilda’s posture, the cautious energy of a woman unwilling to be beguiled.
Yet Jasper, with his rakish charm, merely leaned back slightly, appearing unbothered, as though their banter were the most natural game in the world.
Cordelia watched them, captivated by the dance of words and wits, the way Matilda’s sharp retorts met Jasper’s effortless teasing, and she felt a quiet thrill at seeing her friend so alive, so engaged, in this playful duel.
Jasper’s grin lingered for a moment longer, and he spread his hands in mock surrender.
“Alas, I must tear myself away from such sparkling repartee,” he said, his voice tinged with theatrical regret. “But I came to see my cousin, and Mason awaits my company.” With a final, exaggerated bow that made the ladies titter, he turned and swept from the room, closing the door with a crisp click behind him.
Matilda let out a scoff, brushing imaginary dust from her gown. “He is insufferable,” she muttered though her cheeks betrayed a flush she did not bother to hide.
Cordelia, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. “Then why is your face so decidedly red, Matilda?”
“I… I am not,” Matilda replied quickly, the faintest stammer betraying her denial.
Hazel, ever the practical observer, laughed softly. “Oh, yes you are. Quite thoroughly so.”
Matilda’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the faintest smirk betrayed her. “Well, it is precisely because he is so insufferable. One must reserve a proper indignation for such characters, you see.”
Cordelia chuckled, and Hazel leaned in, her eyes twinkling. “Indignation or not, I should say you found him thoroughly diverting.”
Matilda huffed though she could not suppress the sparkle in her eyes. “Diverting, perhaps. But only at one’s peril. Such men are never to be trusted. Mark my words.”
All three ladies laughed, and that laughter lingered for a moment before Hazel, tilting her head with characteristic practicality, asked. “And what, pray tell, is the plan now, Cordelia?”
Cordelia hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her teacup. “I… Well, to tell you honestly, I do not know,” she admitted, her voice carrying a faint steadiness she did not entirely feel. “I suppose I shall speak with Mason, and we shall settle some arrangement… to remain married but to lead our separate lives.”
Matilda’s eyes narrowed slightly, searching Cordelia’s face. “And you… you are quite at peace with that?”
Cordelia hesitated, the words lodged in her throat for the briefest of moments. Then she forced a small smile. “Yes. That is… what I have always wanted. To live my own life, undisturbed, without interference.”
Hazel gave her a soft, approving nod while Matilda merely arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it pass.
Yet as she spoke, Cordelia felt a pang of disquiet settle in her chest. Deep down, beneath the carefully chosen words and the shield of polite conversation, she knew she was lying not only to her friends but most poignantly, to herself.
The truth was a quiet ache: she wanted more than freedom, more than ease. She wanted him in ways she scarcely admitted even in the quiet of her own heart. And for now, that desire would remain unspoken, locked behind a polite smile and words that sounded far too sensible for the tumult they could not fully conceal.
Chapter Thirty
Mason was at his desk, a half-read letter in one hand and a pen poised in the other, when a sharp rap sounded on the door.
