He shook his head slowly. “I… I do not know yet. I will have to see. But money,” he added with a bitter edge, “money speaks every language in the world. It seems that is all she understands, all she ever cared about.”
“I would be fooling myself if I said that was not true,” Cordelia admitted.
“Do you know where I can find her?” Mason asked again.
Cordelia seemed to think about it for a moment. “She rented out a small flat on Newbury Street. A big, blue building, almost crumbling down,” she remembered.
Cordelia flinched, pressing her hand to her chest as if the words themselves had struck her. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and the hurt in her expression made Mason’s chest tighten.
He wanted, more than anything, to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and shield her from this pain, to reassure her with hispresence. But he did not. He forced himself to remain still, to respect the fragile barrier he had built between them.
Instead, he lowered his voice, careful and controlled. “You do not need to bear this alone. I will handle it. Whatever comes, I will see that you are safe.”
Even as he said the words, Mason felt the ache of restraint, the gnawing certainty that his desire to comfort her, to close that distance, was an indulgence he could not afford, not while the world still threatened her.
Two shocks in one afternoon… Cordelia could scarcely comprehend them.
First, Vernon’s vile claim, made all the more cutting by her mother’s willingness to give it credence. And now… Mason, standing before her, already pulling away as if the space between them were a matter of principle, not choice.
Her throat felt tight, but she fought to keep her composure. She would not cry. She folded her hands in her lap, her knuckles white, and forced her voice into calm, even tones.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for everything you have done… and for everything you will do.”
His eyes lingered on her only briefly before he replied, “It is my duty.”
She managed a small, brittle smile. “No,” she said softly, shaking her head, “it is not. But I still appreciate it.”
It was the truth though it felt like the words had been scraped from somewhere deep inside her. If this was the wall he wished to build between them, she would not beg him to take it down. She could be as composed, as untouchable, as he was.
So, she straightened her spine, schooled her expression into polite neutrality, and mirrored his reserve. The ache in her chest did not lessen, but she locked it away behind a practiced smile, as though this were any other conversation between distant acquaintances.
If her heart had broken, then he would not see the pieces.
Cordelia rose from the sofa with slow, deliberate movements, smoothing her skirts as though the simple act could steady her trembling hands.
“I think…” she began, her gaze fixed on a point just beyond him, “I will go to Matilda’s for a few days.”
Mason’s brow furrowed. “Is that a good idea?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation though her pulse raced. “Matilda has invited me several times already.”
The lie slipped from her lips so smoothly she almost startled herself. Matilda had not extended any such invitation, but Cordelia knew that her friend’s door would be open to her, nonetheless.
She could not stay here, not with the silence pressing between them and certainly not with the knowledge that somewhere along the way, she had begun to want more than an arrangement… she had begun to wanthim. The hope of a real marriage threaded through her every interaction with Mason, even though she was not consciously aware of it until now. She wanted to share her life with him, and now… she understood he did not.
Her eyes flitted briefly to his, but whatever she had hoped to see there was buried beneath his carefully composed mask.
“I will send word to her,” she added, her voice steady though inside it felt as though something fragile had cracked in two. “And I will leave in the morning.”
She didn’t wait for him to answer. If she lingered, she feared the truth of her feelings might betray her. So, she inclined her head in a polite, almost distant manner, and moved toward the door. She almost reached it when his voice reached her.
“Cordelia… are you sure?”
She turned, surprised to find him watching her with that same unreadable expression, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
“Yes,” she said after a pause, summoning a calm she did not feel. “I think I need a bit of time away from… everything. I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” he replied at once, his tone gentle, measured. “But you can count on me for whatever you need.”
