“What sort of lessons?” his friend asked. “The sort of lessons that rip her reputation to tatters? Anything else would be a waste of time.”
As if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a hundred times today. Instead, he punched down the spark of desire that came to life in his belly and shook his head vehemently.
“This way I can monitor her, make sure she won’t try to do something rash. And separate her from Portia for at least some time. You don’t mind keeping an eye on that one, do you?”
“As long as she keeps her mouth shut.”
Justin sighed, “Good.” He hesitated before continuing. “What do you know of Rhys Billings?”
“The Earl of Halton?”
When Justin nodded his head, Peverill said, “I know that his family estate is in the area. Likes to drink and gamble, but certainly not the worst I’ve seen. He has kept a mistress for the last year as well.”
“Cordelia asked me to write to him, to invite him to the ball.”
“Well, that’s a surprise,” Peverill helped himself to another glass of brandy. “Wouldn’t have thought the two of them to be close.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Besides the fact that he’s infatuated with his mistress? Forgive me, but your Cordelia is as starched up as they come. Rhys is the type of man to go for something with a little more… passion. Perhaps a lady who’d be fine to bend the rules of propriety.”
“Then why is Lady Billings so set on them being together?”
Peverill shrugged. “Again, we are in a foreign country, lad. Perhaps she thinks a woman like Cordelia would help him settle down. But from what I’ve seen from him and from her, granted, very little on both counts, I’d say it would be a disaster.”
“Should I still write to him?” Justin asked, his heart ticking slightly faster.
“Indeed, you should. It might even help your chances. She’ll take one look at him, returned home all rumpled and debauched, and run straight into your upstanding arms.”
Justin drained the last of the brandy and set it down loudly on a nearby table. “‘Good night, Peverill,” he said.
“Good night, Your Grace,” Peverill said, holding his glass in the air in a mock toast. “May your sleep be deep and your lady pliable.”
Chapter Ten
“This ruins everything!”Portia yelped. “How could you agree to this?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Cordelia said, raising her own voice. Portia had been livid when she explained that the duke wanted etiquette lessons.
“Told him that dancing made you faint! That you had your monthlies! That you absolutely could not stand the sight of him!” Portia countered, letting out an exasperated growl and throwing herself on the bed.
“Oh, Portia,” Cordelia said, closing her eyes and counting to ten. She needed her sister’s help to finish getting ready. Unfortunately, that meant delaying a much-needed tongue lashing. “I’ve said I’m sorry. Can you please finish tying my stays?”
Portia threw an arm over her eyes, effectively cutting off all forms of communication.
“Portia,” Cordelia said, reaching over to grab her arm. It was no use. She pulled away and buried her face in a pillow.
Grumbling to herself, Cordelia reached behind her back, tying off the laces herself. Having been without a lady’s maid for the past two years, she’d learned some of the necessities of dressing alone, but it helped to have an extra pair of hands about. Especially when her ribs were still tender.
Cordelia had donned a pale-blue dress that had once belonged to her mother. When Father asked them to cut back on expenses, they were able to salvage a few of her mother’s things and have a modiste update the fashions. The muslin was worn but soft, the sleeves trimmed in a darker-blue Italian lace.
“I knew you are infatuated with him!” Portia said, sitting up. Some of her hair escaped her coif and it tangled around her head. Instead of making her look bedraggled, the tendrils framed her face, having an effect similar to one of Raphael’s fallen angels.
Between rumors of an impending engagement and Portia, Cordelia had managed to dodge most of the male attention thrust upon high-born daughters during the London season. Being the daughter of a duke came with certain advantages. After all, the Rothesay name was an ancient one. One also expected the female offspring of a duke to have large dowries. She wondered what her prospects would look like now that they had nothing. She hadn’t gone out of her way to ingratiate herself to any gentleman, and though Cordelia was pretty enough, she was perhaps a bit too ordinary to catch the eye of a suitable match.
And there was the matter of Rhys too. She would always be far too commonplace for that man. But perhaps Lady Billings, and her father, and Portia were right. Maybe he was finally ready to settle down. And that would finally mean giving up her riding, her home, and her younger sisters to become the mistress of Halton.Not yet, a voice whispered within her, but she pushed it away.
“Oh, come off it, you!” Cordelia said, losing her patience. “What would you have me do? Wear a potato sack and roll around in the stable yard?”
