“I was sixteen when our mother died,” Cordelia offered. They began the short walk back to where the horses were cropping grass. “I never really had the opportunity to know her well. We had governesses my whole life. It was strange; after she died, I suddenly wanted every piece of information about her. I would hound my poor father.”
“Was he obliging?”
“Very. He was well liked. My mother loved him very much. His second wife was a love match. The name was secured twice over; he felt he should be allowed to indulge his second marriage.” Cordelia knew she was babbling, but it was difficult not to. She worried if she stopped speaking, something would happen that would be completely out of her control… something that might be entirely inappropriate.
“I think marriage should only ever be an indulgence of love,” the duke murmured, jamming his hands in his pockets.
“Would your father have agreed?” Cordelia asked. He’d never spoken of his past or upbringing, and though Cordelia knew needling him was rude, her curiosity got the better of her.
“No,” he replied.
“Oh?”
“He was unlike your father, in that sense,” he said. “Poverty does that to a person. We lowborn don’t have the time to be sentimental.”
“Oh, I was not implying—”
“I know you weren’t,” the duke replied, quickly. “I… I had a mightily different upbringing to yours. Before your half-brother adopted me…” he trailed off.
Cordelia did not press him.
“I’d best be going,” she said, gathering up Brutus’s reins. “Mrs. Norris’s firm opinion was that we should be seen less together. I wouldn’t want to cause Lady Billings an otherwise preventable conniption.”
The duke laughed at that, but there was a sadness in his blue eyes that Cordelia had not seen before. She curtsied to him and made a move to mount Brutus, but to her surprise, Justin came beside her. Splaying his hands on her hips, he lifted her cleanly into the saddle. Cordelia’s breath hitched.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The duke’s hand lingered on her hip, sliding down to her calf, helping her foot into the stirrup.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
Untwisting the reins, Cordelia kicked Brutus toward the manor house, her heart thumping in her throat. She twisted in the saddle, seeing that he was watching her ride away. He lifted a hand, the other one still in his pocket. Cordelia did not wave back.
*
Justin watched Cordeliaride away, thinking that it was a very sensible thing she’d done and it had prevented him from doing something himself that certainly would have been nonsensical. He shook his head, doing his best to clear his mind of images of her. But it was impossible. She’d looked so achingly beautiful in the morning light he’d wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. Every day he was waking up a little more to her beauty, her kindness, her capability.
He was simultaneously thankful she’d run away before he had the chance to kiss her, and berating himself harshly.
He sighed deeply, going to the saddle bag and reaching for his sketchbook. Buttercup nickered as he approached, and he patted the mare’s flank. The voices from the workers carried over the cool April wind. It was nearing the end of the month and instead of wrapping things up in Hertfordshire, he was beginning new projects and dillydallying with his pretty rival.
Since Peverill had left a few days ago, Justin was too busy to search for the treasure himself. He eventually decided that it would not change much on his end. He had more than enough money saved up, and the firm was ever expanding. Besides, he could see how much it meant to Cordelia. If she wanted to find it to secure her sisters’ futures, then fine. There were worse things that could happen.
Flipping his sketchbook to a blank page, he planned to walk back to where the men were digging ditches and sketch out the progress they were making. Instead, he found himself rounding out an almond-shaped face and full cheeks.
Cordelia was easy to draw, all soft curves and dips. Justin leaned against a tree, letting his mind wander as his charcoal scraped against the page.
Things had not taken long to change between them. Where he once thought her indifferent and disdainful of him, he saw that she simply liked to know the plan before diving into something. She was calculating and curious, not defensive as he once thought her.
Cordelia was changing the way he viewed the estate as well. It was not simply a means for rich men to make themselves richer, but was instead its own microcosm. Every family relied on one another to see them through each season, turning to the landowner for guidance and leadership. It was a way of life, different from his in London, but not one he would call worse.
“My lord!”
Justin was ripped from his reverie to see a man holding a shovel. He was striding toward Justin purposefully.Oh right, I’m the lord in question.
“Yes?” Justin asked, snapping his sketchbook shut.
“Booth gave his back a good crack when he was digging. We’re down a man. Might need to call someone else, if that pleases Your Grace,” the worker said.
