And so, he decided on something that might, if only for one evening, lift the heaviness from her shoulders. He would cook for her.
It was not an act he performed often. If he were completely honest with himself, there was only one dish in his culinary repertoire worth attempting which was a simple but rich meal both he and Jasper learned during their university years when they got hungry outside of regular kitchen hours and were in the mood for trying something different. It was not much, but it washearty and comforting. But most importantly, that food, made with his own hands, substituted for all he truly wished to give her.
He would tell the cook to stand aside for the evening, and he would inform his mother that dinner would be a private matter, just the two of them. The blossoming terrace of the east wing would serve as their dining room. The air there was scented with fresh blooms, and the view of the garden at dusk was something Cordelia seemed to love.
If he could coax her into a genuine meal, and perhaps a smile, then maybe he could also find a way to broach the subject of Vernon without making her feel cornered.
Yes. That would be the plan.
“You keep surprising me all the time,” Cordelia said, leaning against the doorframe of the east wing’s small kitchen which was conveniently located right next to the terrace. “And now you are even cooking for me?”
Mason glanced over his shoulder from where he stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, knife in hand. “Careful, or you’ll make me sound far more domestic than I truly am.” He smirked. “I only know one dish, so you may want to savor the novelty while it lasts.”
“Oh, I plan to,” she said, eyes dancing with amusement as she stepped inside. “Although I suspect this is just an elaborate ploy to impress me.”
“Impress you? I think the proper term would be ‘rescue’ you,” he replied, sliding the chopped vegetables into a pan with a satisfying hiss. “You’ve eaten next to nothing for days, and I can’t have you fainting in my presence. It would tarnish my reputation.”
“That would be dreadful,” she said dryly, perching on the stool at the edge of the counter. “A duke with a fainting wife. Society would never recover.”
“Exactly,” he said, lips twitching. “So, eat. That’s an order.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Do you order all your guests about when you cook for them?”
“Only the special ones,” he said without thinking, and then he realized the truth of it.
Cordelia busied herself with the sprig of herbs he had set aside, fingers tracing the leaves. “And what, pray, brought this sudden… culinary heroism upon me?”
Mason kept his tone light as he stirred the pan. “Let’s call it a farewell gesture. We’re returning to proper London life tomorrow which means you’ll be too busy dazzling people to sit down for a proper meal.”
“Ah,” she said softly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “And is that all?”
He hesitated then decided against dodging. “No. I wanted to talk to you about Vernon.”
She stilled, hands folding in her lap. “I thought as much.”
“You think about him too much, and that is exactly what I wanted to tell you to stop doing.”
She inhaled deeply. “Does he have a new strategy to ruin my life?”
He was on the verge of admitting the truth, but instead, he shook his head. She didn’t need to know this.
“No,” he said simply. “That is exactly why you shouldn’t be bothered by him any longer.”
“But that man will never tire.”
“Maybe not.” That much, Mason was willing to admit. “But neither will I. I’ll see to it that he fails… every single time.”
For a moment, she looked at him as though weighing whether to believe him entirely. Then she sat, murmuring, “You do keep surprising me.”
“Then I’ll keep at it,” he promised.
She walked over to him, moving toward the sideboard. “You’re doing all the cooking. The least I can do is help set the table.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to,” she said, already gathering plates.
He watched her move, and she was quick, sure, light on her feet, and handed over cutlery without protest. Together, they set the terrace table beneath the soft wash of evening light, the garden beyond blooming in pale shades. She placed the wine glasses with a precision that made him smile.
