He’d gotten a spark in his eyes speaking with the farmers about designing and building an irrigation system that would use water from the artificial lake. He would listen intently to what every tenant had to say, even stopping at moments to scribble something in the sketchbook he kept.
Cordelia was there to make introductions and small talk with the wives. After they provided condolences on the late duke and her brother, they would begin fawning over Mr. Wright. So much so that it made Cordelia a little incredulous. Of course, anyone could see he was handsome. But with such poor manners and dress, she failed to see the draw.
Tell yourself that often, do you? the voice in her head said, with a healthy measure of sarcasm.
“Well, you’d better prepare yourself for another. You too, Your Grace,” Portia said.
“Whatever do you mean?” Cordelia replied, patting Brutus’s neck as he was led off to a box stall.
“Cordelia Nichols!”
Portia smiled as she watched her sister groan. Lady Billings was standing at the back entrance to Hollyhead, complexion white. “Is that you? On the duke’s horse? Never in my life have I seen such brazenness! And fromyou, of all the Nichols daughters.”
“Oh, Lady Billings, how nice to see you,” Cordelia tried, providing a crisp curtsy.
It did nothing to quell the woman, who waddled over to the company like a mother goose, voluminous skirts billowing in the wind. She held out her fan like a pointer finger. “What will the duke say when he sees you in this state? Ladies of a marriageable age must appear to be the very picture of—”
“Good evening, Lady Billings,” Mr. Wright cut in.
“Oh! Oh!” the old goose chirruped, shocked by the sudden turn of events. “Oh goodness, Your Grace. Why, Ihardlyrecognized you. You’re… you’re not dressed in the usual fashion,” she finally ground out. Portia could not contain an amused snort.
“I asked Lady Cordelia to accompany me this morning, as she has unparalleled knowledge of the estate. She was kind enough to oblige me,” he said, plainly.
“The two of you?Unchaperoned?” She opened her fan with a flap and began whipping it back and forth like a hummingbird’s wing. “Rhys will not be happy about it,” she added. Now that was bold, even for Lady Billings. “We best hope Lady Prudence does not catch wind of it!”
“If the earl was so concerned with whom Lady Cordelia was seen with, he should have arrived back in England three weeks ago,” Mr. Wright said, keeping an even tone. “However, I’d rather discuss more delicate matters elsewhere, Lady Billings. Would you care to join us for dinner?”
Cordelia was sure that a light wind would have knocked the woman over. “Oh, well!” she started. “I suppose it would be proper. Since I am your closest neighbor and have not yet received an invitation, though I wroteseveraltimes—”
“Settled then!” he said, offering her his arm.
Lady Billings went on nattering as they entered the house, leaving Portia and Cordelia standing in the stable yard, dumbfounded. “I haven’t seen someone handle Lady Billings that well since… well, since never,” Portia said, shrugging her shoulders.
“He’s quite good with people,” Cordelia replied, taking off her hat to beat the dust off.
Portia scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re starting to like the man.”
“Of course not!” she retorted, and hoped it was convincing.
Chapter Thirteen
Justin watched asCordelia showed Bea the difference between a back stitch and a stem stitch. She patiently put her fingers over the girl’s as they pulled colored thread through an embroidery hoop. Bea looked ready to tear her hair out, but Cordelia kept an even temper, infusing the situation with a calm steadiness. He felt something akin to homesickness, though for what, he was not quite sure.
“My late husband was an excellent shot, mind you, Your Grace,” Lady Billings quipped. She’d been on a full run of conversation for the past twenty minutes. A simple “oh” or “how interesting” and she was right off again, regaling the room with stories about her son and husband. “We always hosted the largest hunting parties this side of Hertfordshire. Will, the girls’ brother, and my Rhys were raised on them.”
“Is that so?” Peverill asked.
Lady Billings has been positively scandalized when she realized the infamous Henry Peverill, the bastard son of Sir John Ashbury and his Haitian mistress, was a close friend of the new duke. But, like most women, Peverill had won her over halfway through the main course at dinner. Now she took his teasing in stride, chuckling alongside him and thoroughly enjoying his attentions. That left Justin to examine Cordelia Nichols from across the room.
Hermione was tapping out a tune on the piano, albeit very lightly. Portia was puzzling over a book in the corner, occasionally jumping into the conversation to spurn something Peverill had said, and Cordelia was busying herself with Bea. The air was fairly serene after weeks of injuries and concealed identities and hidden treasure. It was nice to be at peace for a moment, which was in short supply around the Nichols ladies.
The sun was just beginning to set, and it spilled golden light in the sitting room, illuminating the gilded wainscoting that decorated the ceiling. Cordelia smiled when Bea finally did the stitch correctly. Leaning over, her thick head of hair dipped into a stream of light, picking out reddish hues in the dark strands as she kissed Bea’s forehead. The young girl giggled, swatting her eldest sister away.
Justin felt his fingers twitch as he had the urge to grasp a piece of charcoal and sketch her in that scene.
“What do you think about that, Wright?” Peverill asked.
“Sorry, what’s that?” Justin snapped himself back to the present moment, turning to face his friend. Lady Billings’s cheeks were positively blossoming as she regarded him.
