Vernon’s laugh was soft, mocking. “Reason, my dear. Practicality. Nothing personal. But the law, and the ton, will favor even a semblance of truth over sentiment. You may be shocked, you may be hurt, but that changes nothing.”
“That’s enough.” Mason’s voice rose like thunder, absolute and unyielding. “We will not listen to another word of these lies. You have said all you will say here and no more.”
Vernon’s smug smile faltered for the first time. He raised his hands in mock surrender, the gesture both theatrical and irritating. “All right, all right, as you wish,” he drawled, his voice laced with that same venomous charm. “But bear in mind, you have chosen this, not me.”
Cordelia’s chest tightened at his words, but Mason’s hand on her shoulder was protective enough to keep her composure. She watched as Vernon retreated toward the door, each step slow and deliberate, as if savoring the sting of his own threat. When the door clicked closed behind him, Cordelia didn’t feel relieved.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cordelia sank even deeper into the settee, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirts. “I never thought… never thought my mother could stoop so low,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What if it’s true? What if I really… I’m not my father’s daughter?”
Mason knelt beside her, placing a steadying hand over hers. “Cordelia,” he said firmly, locking his gaze on hers, “everything Vernon says is a lie. He thrives on fear and chaos. We only need to prove it, and we will.”
She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “But… how? How can we prove anything? He’s so… persistent, and my mother, if she’s really backing him?—”
Mason shook his head, refusing to let her spiral. “Your mother may have her faults, but she cannot change the truth of your birth. We will gather the facts, the papers, anything that verifiesyour father’s wishes. The law will be on our side. Vernon has no power here, only his words, and they are empty.”
Cordelia let out a shaky sigh, pressing her hands against her face. “It’s just… overwhelming. I can’t think straight.”
Mason watched her closely, the weight of the evening pressing on his shoulders.
His jaw tightened.Vernon will never let her go willingly.
Every scheme, every whispered threat, every feigned claim, it was all calculated. Vernon would never slip up, never reveal the truth voluntarily. Mason would have to dismantle him completely, and that would require cunning, patience, and ruthlessness.
And yet, even as his mind ran through the strategies, the contingency plans, Mason could not ignore the ache in his chest.
This is a marriage of convenience, he repeated to himself, almost like a mantra, pressing down the warmth he felt whenever she looked at him or smiled, the moments when her presence made the world feel lighter. He had to bury those feelings or risk endangering her even further.
He leaned closer, his voice low and steady though a subtle firmness underscored his words. “Cordelia,” he said, placing his hand lightly over hers, “do not trouble yourself with Vernon. Iwill handle him. You have no reason to fear. He will not touch you again, nor will he lay a single finger on your inheritance.”
Her brow furrowed, and her gaze searched his as if trying to divine some hidden truth. “Thank you; I… I don’t know what I would do without you…” she confessed in a voice that was soft, almost hesitant.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his own emotions into icy control. “Yes, about us… we need to decide how we live from this point forward,” he said, choosing each word carefully. “This… this marriage, it was always an arrangement. Now the world knows, and we can… we can lead separate lives if that is what we choose.”
Her lips parted, as if to speak, then closed again. For a long moment, she seemed suspended between disbelief and reluctant acceptance. Finally, with a small, tentative nod, she acknowledged what he had said. There was a flicker of confusion, hurt, maybe even fear in her eyes, but she remained composed, holding herself with the grace that had always both humbled and bewitched him.
“I understand,” she whispered more to herself than to him.
Mason watched her closely, noting the subtle tremor in her hands, the way her gaze occasionally flickered to the floor, hesitant to meet his eyes. Every instinct in him urged him to tell her the truth, that all of this, his coldness, his insistence on distance, it was not because he wished to harm her, but because he could not risk either of them being wounded.
This is because of you,he thought, a bitter ache in his chest.
She was the reason he contained himself, restrained the fierce pull he felt whenever she was near. Yet he also understood, painfully, that he had to guard his own heart. To admit fully what he felt would risk everything: her freedom, her trust, her future. And he could see, in her soft expressions and the way her words lingered on him, that she cared as deeply as he did. That made it all the more dangerous.
Right place, right people… wrong time.
Mason repeated the thought like a quiet mantra, trying to rationalize the ache of desire he could not indulge. Perhaps they were meant to cross paths, meant to protect and cherish one another, but not meant to surrender completely. Circumstances and duty would not allow it.
He shifted in his seat, deliberately keeping a composed distance, yet his eyes never left her. Each heartbeat reminded him of the peril in proximity and the impossible truth that their bond—so genuine, so potent—could not yet be fully embraced.
Mason ran a hand over his face, a tension in his jaw that he could not shake. “I will speak with my solicitor tomorrow,” he said, keeping his tone measured. “We need to put this matter to rest once and for all. And I need to know, where can I find your mother?”
Cordelia’s gaze flickered up, eyes wide with an emotion he could barely read. “You… you will speak with her?” she asked softly, a thread of hope or perhaps dread in her voice.
“Yes,” he replied firmly though he did not meet her eyes. “I have to. It cannot continue like this.”
She hesitated, biting her lip, and then asked, almost whispering,. “And what will you offer her? What will you say?”
