"Considerably more," Margaret agreed. "In London, he manages. Here, he simply is." She tilted her head slightly, the picture of nonchalance. "I think this fortnight has been good for him."
Corinna glanced back toward the window. The moors were invisible behind the rain.
"He’s a good man," Margaret continued in the same mild, conversational tone as she smoothed her skirts in her lap. "He’s been very careful with himself since his wife died. Very contained.” She paused slightly. “I sometimes wonder if the contained version of himself has forgotten that there ever was another one."
Cori sent her a sidelong glance but kept her own counsel.
"Of course, he would not thank me for saying so," Margaret continued. "But I’ve known him since he was eight years old, and I am old enough to say what I observe without requiring his permission." Then she turned slightly in her chair to look more directly at Corinna. "And what I have observed this last sennight is that something in him has shifted. I cannot account for all of it. But I’ve noticed it."
Corinna said nothing. Her gaze had dropped to the upside-down book in her lap, which was in itself an answer of a kind.
Margaret let the silence sit for a moment, allowing Corinna to focus on her own thoughts for a bit. Then she added softly, "He will not make it easy for you, my dear girl."
Corinna looked up and met her gaze straight on.
"Whatever this is—" Margaret shrugged "—he will not make it easy. That’s not a flaw in him. It’s simply who he is. He’s careful and he’s slow and he carries more weight on his shoulders than he allows the world to see. A woman who wanted an uncomplicated man would not be happy with him." She held the girl's gaze. "But a woman who was up to the challenge could not find a better man."
The fire settled. The rain moved against the glass.
“I know.” Cori was quiet for a long moment. Then she released a breath she’d been holding. “But do you think he'll let me try?"
"Corinna, I would not be sitting in this chair if I thought otherwise."
Her words landed the way Margaret intended them to, simply, and without room for argument.
Corinna turned her attention back to the window. Something in her face had shifted, some small resolution forming beneath the surface that hadn’t been there when Margaret arrived. She wouldn’t push any further.
"Your father," Margaret began, returning to an easier topic, "once told me that the most reliable test of a place was whether you could imagine wintering there. Not visiting, not passing through. But wintering."
The very tip of Corinna’s lips uplifted in a small smile. "What did he say about Bermuda?"
"He said he could not imagine being anywhere else in February. Which told me everything I needed to know about Bermuda."
Corinna laughed at that, soft and genuine, and for a moment she looked exactly like the little girl she once was rather than the young woman she was becoming. "And what would you say about Acklan in February?"
Margaret considered the question with the seriousness it deserved. "Cold," she finally said. "Magnificent. Entirely uncompromising." Then she tilted her head. "Rather like its owner, I should think."
Corinna looked at her for a moment. Then she looked back at the window, at the rain and the grey and the moors that were out there somewhere behind it all, patient and vast and permanent.
Bermuda.
James couldn't stop thinking about Bermuda.
After spending the entire day successfully not thinking about Cori, he now could focus on little else as he strode into his ducal chambers.
Damn it all. What if Cori went back to Bermuda? She could very easily do so. He hated to admit that it was a real possibility, but it was. After summer came to an end, she could pack her trunks and sail back across the Atlantic as though she'd never met him. She had a life somewhere else and he?—
Well, he was being a bloody fool.
Pritchard appeared from the dressing room, evening clothes laid ready, and said nothing about the fact that James was standing in the middle of his chambers staring at nothing in particular. Of course, Pritchard never said anything about such things. It was one of the reasons he was invaluable.
"Your Grace," the valet said.
James shook thoughts of Cori from his mind and began to undress. "What have I missed at Acklan today, Pritchard?"
"Lady Hannah escaped the nursery again this afternoon." Pritchard retrieved the loosened cravat and reached for James’ jacket.
"I am aware."
