The woman gave a short, humorless laugh. “Is that what she told you? My, my… she has a talent for playing the innocent, doesn’tshe? But it isn’t so. That man,” she jerked her chin upward, as if indicating Cordelia’s late father, “never meant it for her. Not truly. It’s mine by right.”
Mason’s jaw clenched. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the smirk she’d worn at the door returned, smaller now, more poisonous. “You can think whatever you like. It is your right. But thinking doesn’t change facts. And the fact is you’re a clever man; you should know how quickly I can make the world believe me instead of her.”
She sank into the worn armchair by the fireplace, crossing her legs with a casual elegance that seemed utterly at odds with her surroundings. “So, shall we discuss how much my involvement in all this is worth?”
Mason leaned forward slightly. “We have been informed of your… arrangement with Lord Vernon. Is it true?”
Her eyes flickered, just for a heartbeat, before she leaned back in her chair with a shrug. “The illegitimacy claim? It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” Mason said, his voice sharpening. “For Cordelia. You cannot imagine the grief you’ve caused her with what you’ve done.”
That earned him nothing but a thin smile, one entirely devoid of warmth. “Grief is not my concern,” she replied. “Cordelia madeher choices. She thinks herself better than me. Perhaps this will teach her she’s not.”
Mason stared at her, incredulous. There was no flicker of regret, no trace of a mother’s love. There was only spite and self-interest. He’d thought Cordelia’s account of their estrangement had been touched with the pain of exaggeration, but now… now, he saw the truth in every word.
He almost spoke, almost demanded how she could do this to her own child, but then he remembered his father. He remembered the cold cruelty, the relentless hunger for control, the way a man could strip the humanity from those he was meant to protect.
And as he sat there, he realized with an ugly certainty that Cordelia’s mother and his father were exactly the same kind of person.
Mason straightened in his chair, schooling his features into something calmer, more composed. Rage would get him nowhere with a woman like this. Her own greed, however, might.
“You want money,” he said evenly. “That much is clear. But Vernon can’t give you what I can.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a faint gleam there. He recognized it immediately: interest. “Oh? And what makes you think you can?”
“Because unlike him,” Mason replied, “I actually have money. And unlike him, I don’t make empty promises.” He let that sink in for a moment, watching her measure him with a calculating look.
“And why,” she drawled, “would you pay me? You’ve just told me the money is hers, not mine.”
“Because,” Mason said, leaning forward, “if you retract your claim and publicly denounce Vernon’s story, you’ll never want for anything again. I’ll make certain of it. A comfortable home, an allowance large enough to suit your tastes. In exchange, you will never again speak against Cordelia or me. In fact, you will never come in contact with either of us again.”
Her mouth curved in a small, mocking smile. “You’d pay that much for her peace of mind?”
Mason didn’t hesitate. “I’d pay more.”
He could see her weighing the offer, and he kept his expression carefully impassive though inside, the tension coiled tight. He wasn’t only buying her silence. He was setting the first stone in the trap. Once she accepted, he’d make sure any agreement tied her hands so tightly that if she tried to betray Cordelia again, she’d destroy herself in the process.
In his mind, he could almost hear Vernon scoffing at the idea that Mason could win with gold instead of fists. But he’d learned long ago: sometimes the deadliest blow came not from a clenched hand but from a signed paper.
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. In her eyes, there was a glinting that resembled a sharp, foxlike wariness.
“And if I say no?” she asked, her tone lilting with mock sweetness.
Mason didn’t blink. “Then you’ll walk straight back into Vernon’s arms and let him use you until he’s drained every drop of value from you. When he’s done, you’ll have nothing—no coin, no protection, and no one to fight your battles.” His voice stayed calm, almost conversational, but there was a steely edge beneath it. “And if you think Vernon is a safer ally than me, you haven’t been paying attention.”
For the first time, she faltered. The smirk twitched at the corner of her lips, uncertain.
“You make it sound as though you care about her,” she said slowly, as though testing the waters.
Mason met her gaze without flinching. “I do. More thanyouever have.”
The silence that followed was taut and brittle. He could see her calculating again—how much she could wring from him, whether she could squeeze more if she held out. But she also knew Vernon’s promises were worthless, that he would gladly toss her aside the moment it served him.
Finally, she gave a sharp little laugh, shaking her head. “You’re a dangerous man. Very well, I accept your offer. But you’d best make it worth my while.”
“You’ll find,” Mason said, standing, “that I always keep my promises. And unlike Vernon, I can afford to.”
