“If someone sees us out alone, they may think we are courting. Lady Billings would be terribly upset by that news. Half of Hertfordshire would hear of it and then Lady Prudence DeLessops would make some kind of insinuation, and before we knew it I’d be ruined.”
Justin knit his eyebrows together as he shaded in the lake. “That seems to be quite a leap you’ve made.”
“A lady must always be above suspicion,” she replied, tartly.
“Is this Lady Prudence the decider of a woman’s fortunes in high society?” Justin asked. “Seems like too much power to grant an anonymous source.”
“There’s power in the talk, you see,”’ Cordelia said. “For example, you, ‘The Blacksmith Duke,’ have been dubbed the most enigmatic unattached man of the season. Any lord would be very pleased with that title.”
Justin paused. “The Blacksmith Duke?” He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.
“Indeed,” Cordelia replied. “A man from humble beginnings, rising up to run the estate where your father once worked. It’s practically a fairy tale.”
The words sank in his gut. He felt an irrational anger boiling up inside of him. “Interesting. I’ve never worked as a blacksmith. Only apprenticed to one. I’ve since come into better work.”
“You work?” Cordelia asked, her eyebrows raised.
“Of course, doesn’t everybody?”
Cordelia shrugged. “I suppose that gentlemen work.”
“Work?” Justin scoffed, breaking the tip of his charcoal off on the page. “All I’ve seen titled men do is attend lunch clubs and dig themselves into debt.”And drink until they can’t see straightand whore until the early hours of the morning… but he didn’t want to cause the lady to have another fainting spell.
“My father worked every day of his life. He managed the Hollyhead estates and two other houses,” she shot back. “I’m sure you couldn’t possibly understand.”
Justin’s thin patience had finally waned. It was always the same with these types, since his days at Eton. Charles had told him to hold his head high, and that what made a man gentle was more in his character than his name. But the rest of the world did not see it that way.
“Charles Nichols brought me up to seek honest work, which is more than I can say of the types of people who run in your circles.”
Cordelia’s pretty mouth twisted into a glower. “I beg your pardon?”
“My father was a blacksmith, yes. My other father was a disgraced son of a duke, turned soldier, who did everything he could to send me on to Eton and then Cambridge. He worked himself nearly to death for everything I have today, and he did it without titles and family money. He did it by being a good, hardworking soul,” Justin said, struggling to contain the anger in his voice. “Which is perhaps more than you could understand. With your upbringing.”
Her face was white now. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But my life certainly has not been the fairy tale your Lady Prudence has made it out to be. This is the first thing I’ve acquired in my life that did not require some sort of sacrifice, and I intend to be rid of it as soon as possible.”
Justin shoved his sketch pad into the saddle bag and did up the buckle.
“You… you mean to sell Hollyhead?” Cordelia stammered.
He didn’t turn to look at her as he put his foot in the stirrup. He swung himself back on, so efficiently he surprised himself.“Yes, that has always been my intention. You and I… and the rest of high society all know that I am terribly unsuited and unprepared for this role. The sooner the estate finds itself in the hands of someone who can manage it, the better.”
Justin felt inexplicably guilty as he saw tears forming in her eyes. She turned to face the valley once more.
“I think I’ve seen enough, Lady Cordelia. I thank you for your assistance.”
He did not wait for her reply as he turned Brutus back toward the house.
Chapter Seven
Mrs. Norris hadsuggested the girls steel themselves for the new duke, and Cordelia had failed miserably. She was supposed to be finishing her coif for the will reading, but instead she rested her cheek on the cool surface of her dressing table and sighed. The heavy black dress she was supposed to wear for propriety’s sake was draped over her bed. The crinoline swayed with the cool spring breeze that came in from the open window.
It had been two days since the new duke announced the sale of Hollyhead. Though no formal notice had gone out, it felt as though her heart had broken in two. She’d confined herself to her rooms, complaining of a headache. Cordelia could not think how she would face her sisters on this. Since her father’s death, giving up Hollyhead had been a possibility, but to be facing it now was unbearable.
The will reading would most likely be the final nail in the coffin of her hopes. She would have to hear the thing that she had been holding in her heart for the past month.
The family was broke.
