“I actually think it would be rather picturesque,” Peverill claimed, from the gaming table. The group had been deceptively quiet, most likely eavesdropping on their conversation. “Youwouldn’t have to endure a bad crossing over the channel to enjoy the charms of the south of France.”
Lady Billings hummed in agreement, but then stood rather abruptly. “I fear I shall not finish this card game, dears,” she said, straightening her spine. “I have to pay a call to the Marchioness of Burton this afternoon. I assume she was invited to the ball?”
“Of course,” Cordelia remarked.
“Good! Her son has just returned home from his final year at Eton. Perhaps you might secure him an invitation as well?” Lady Billings asked, her tone stringent with Cordelia.
She stood, nodding her head. “I did not know James had returned. I’ll pen a letter forthwith.”
“Good,” Lady Billings replied. She nodded her head to her counterparts, excusing herself.
Cordelia followed her out of the drawing room and into the main halls. Now was as good a time as any to seal her fate with the Billings family. The dowager’s cane clicked rhythmically against the floor as they promenaded to the foyer, side by side.
“Let us hope the weather holds for the next week,” Lady Billings remarked.
Cordelia’s mouth went suddenly dry. She tried to think of something to say but was coming up short. Finally, she managed a nod, sure she looked as stupid as she felt.
Lady Billings eyed her for a moment, the edges of her eyes crinkling. A footman produced a coat and hat. The chatelaine, Mrs. Norris, helped the old woman ready herself for the carriage. Cordelia knew what had to be done, but by some cruel twist of fate, she’d been struck mute. She opened her mouth with the intention of asking after Rhys, but instead, all that came out was, “Indeed.”
She was half expecting Lady Billings to fill the silence for the two of them, mentioning how disappointed she was in Cordelia’sbehavior, how Rhys was the obvious choice over a mutt duke without a drop of aristocratic blood. But instead she bobbed a shallow curtsy at Cordelia.
“I do hope you speak with Rhys shortly,” Lady Billings said, after a long moment. “But I am afraid to tell you that he has been called on urgent business to London.”
“Oh,” Cordelia replied, surprised by the news. A feeling of trepidation surged in her belly. For what possible reason could he have been called there?
As if reading her mind, Lady Billings answered, “Family business. It will not take him long. He is set to arrive the day of the ball at Hollyhead. I have expressly instructed him not to miss it.” She paused, pursing her lips. “He was eager to leave. I do hope everything is all right with him.”
“Whatever it is,” Cordelia murmured, “I am sure it will be sorted out soon.”
She did not mean to insinuate the “whatever” being a matrimonial pact between the two of them, but as soon as the words left her lips, she knew Lady Billings read it as such. “Oh, certainly!” she said, taking Cordelia’s clammy hands in her own. “I am soveryhopeful!”
Cordelia smiled weakly at that, feeling perspiration gathering on her brow. Is that not what she’d come out here to say originally? That she wanted to speak with Rhys? But anxiety had been replaced by dread, the familiarnosounding off in her head.
With a final nod, Lady Billings gathered her voluminous skirts so she could fit through the doorway and climbed up into the carriage. “I always preferred late summer nuptials, anyhow!” she called from her perch.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Justin’s strength hadcome back with a vengeance. After three days confined to his bed after the fever broke, he was keen to solve every problem in his life. Now that Payne had finally made it to Hollyhead, there were mountains of correspondence that required his attention, not to mention the repair work taking place on the estate and the ball that was four days away. Nothing made Justin feel better than tackling each issue one by one and making sure things were seen to.
It was the one thing, possibly theonlything he and Cordelia shared that could be considered a similarity. But he couldn’t think of Cordelia now, especially after she’d rejected him again and he’d made a complete ass of himself. He resolved to push ahead with his to-do list and put all of his feelings about that infuriating woman in a box, and then promptly shove that box into a corner in his mind, where he would not have to think about it.
Unless, of course, it was just after midnight and he couldn’t sleep. Then he would review the memories of her, in painstaking detail. But he found that in the daylight, she did not plague him as much. Though perhaps that had more to do with running himself ragged trying to get as much done as possible. So instead, he focused all of his energy on his work.
His secretary, as eccentric and ridiculous as the man was, had a remarkable penchant for organization. Without him byhis side, Justin might have drowned himself in Hollyhead’s reflecting pond. Payne had nearly had a conniption when he saw the state of his employer’s office, but then quickly set to work making sure everything was in some sort of order.
“There is no such thing as organized chaos,” the man admonished, bringing Justin papers to sign when he was still jailed in the duke’s chambers. “Just chaos.”
The two of them paid legal fees, noted which documents needed signing, filed contracts and land agreements away, and finalized the rent agreement for the Rothesay cottage. One day he even forced Payne to ride out with him to view the progress being made on the new irrigation system. Payne was awkward in the saddle, but Buttercup was gentle as they walked through Hollyhead’s lush farmland to where the pumps were being installed.
Brutus had snorted and pawed the ground, wanting to go at a faster pace, but was unusually understanding of Justin’s ill riding. They seemed to have formed an understanding or at least a tolerance of each other.
Payne was pleasantly surprised by how well the construction looked. Though he himself was not an architect, having worked on building sites for the past twenty years the man had gained enough knowledge to know what he was looking at. The project was moving along smoothly and with any luck, it would be finished before the end of summer.
“I think the irrigation systems would also be beneficial for the planting of vines,” Payne told him as he struggled to keep up with Justin, who was striding toward his office. He’d had an idea of how to improve the ductwork on the irrigation piping and wanted to make a sketch before he forgot.
“Planting of vines?” he questioned. “Surely you’re not still thinking about those grapes?”
“I must admit, sir,” Payne said, huffing, “I have been speaking with the young Miss Nichols and it appears that the—”
