Thomas turned on his side to face her. “When you said you loved someone before we married, did you mean Mr. Bradley?”
There was no anger or resentment in his tone. No accusation. But she felt as if her heart was under attack. “Yes.”
Thomas nodded once and, without another word, faced the opposite direction.
She stayed awake for over an hour, her mind reeling. Stuyvesant was here and he still loved her. But she was already married to Thomas, the man at her side, the man her heart ached for.
33
She woke up alone in her bed. Thomas was not sprawled about, waiting to eat all of her bacon. Trying to organize the chaos of her thoughts, she squeezed her eyes shut. It was as if her two separate worlds were colliding. Stuyvesant, the familiarity of home and shared values, coming up hard against her new home, Thomas, and century-old traditions. She felt herself being torn in both directions, not wanting to let go of either.
Miss Vaughn knocked. Cordelia pulled on her robe and unlocked her bedroom door. It was probably foolish to keep locking it, after Hibbert had been incarcerated, but she still found herself uneasy. He had not been the one entering her room. She was certain of it. He was too large, too masculine, and he didn’t wear perfume.
“Here you are, my lady,” Miss Vaughn said, placing the tray on the bedside table. If she noticed the absence of Thomas, she made no sign of it.
“Thank you, Miss Vaughn,” Cordelia said, climbing back under the covers. “Would you please run me a hot bath?”
“Of course, my lady.”
Miss Vaughn left the room. Cordelia lifted the lid to her tray and her heart felt heavy when she saw enough food for two. Thomas would be eating breakfast with Stuyvesant, Lucy, and Mrs. Stewart in the breakfast room, along with Penelope. She wondered how Thomas would explain Stuyvesant’s presence. Penelope would know that he wasn’t on the guest list. Cordelia had told her that Lucy was coming for a visit, at least, but she hadn’t expected her to arrive before their move to London for the Season.
Stuyvesant, Lucy, and Mrs. Stewart weren’t in their table-setting plans for thirty people either. There were now thirty-three guests, and she was short one male. It was such a silly thing, but her house party could be ruined before it started. Cordelia sighed. She would have to redo the place settings, even though they’d already taken her days to get just right because of their precedence. Where people sat depended on their rank and titles, rather than their personalities. As such, Lucy would have to sit far away from her, for she had no title. And she would need to find another man—Mr. Ryse, perhaps?
She picked up a piece of bacon with her fingers and chewed it into nothing. She toyed with her food.
Cordelia couldn’t stay in bed all day waiting to find out.
She felt better after her bath, less low. And there was something about a lovely morning frock to give her a bit of confidence. Confidence she desperately needed to meet both Thomas and her guests. She walked toward the sitting room and saw Thayne coming her way.
“Thayne,” she said. “Have you seen Lord Farnham this morning?”
“Yes, my lady,” he said, executing a bow. “Lord Farnham took Mr. Bradley out shooting.”
“Ah,” Cordelia said, both regretful and relieved. “Then you and I can work on the table placements. Hibbert… I worked on them before, but we need to adjust things for our additional guests, and I was wondering if you could have someone deliver an invitation to Mr. Ryse.”
“I should be happy to assist you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Thayne,” she said. “I should also like to visit every room and make sure they are ready for our guests.”
“I am sure the housekeeper would be happy to accompany you.”
Cordelia swallowed. Mrs. Norton seemed to be offended by everything Cordelia asked her to do. Like Hibbert, she fought against any change in tradition. “That would be perfect. I was also going to mention that I would like dinner to last only an hour, Mr. Hibb—please ensure that the footmen bring the courses quickly.”
“Of course, my lady.”
She found Lucy, Penelope, Mrs. Stewart, and Blanche in the blue sitting room.
“Blanche, would you mind if I stole Lucy for a little while?” Cordelia asked from the doorway.
“Not at all,” Blanche said with her usual bovine smile. “Mrs. Stewart was just telling me about these fascinating vegetables called avocados that they have in America.”
Lucy linked arms with Cordelia and they closed the door behind them.
“Did my mother-in-law ask you the most ridiculous questions about America?”
Her best friend giggled. “She was very kind though.”
“I am so sorry that I have been the worst hostess to you, but I still need to go through all the rooms to make sure they are ready for my other guests. Would you mind coming with me? It’ll be a dull job.”
