Justin nearly jumped as Lady Billings burst into the room. She was fanning herself frantically as she regarded the young woman. “This simplycannotbe!” she shouted. “It simply cannot!”
“And why would that be, madam?” Cordelia replied, also raising her voice. “Have you forgotten that I have my own mind? I am within my rights to refuse any offer presented to me!”
“Yourrights?” Lady Billings parroted, her whole face reddening. “And what rights do you have, pray tell? To lose your home? To let your sisters fall toruin? Tocontinueto disparage your own reputation and the Rothesay name?”
“In a word,” Cordelia said, drawing in a deep breath, “yes. I do. I retain all of those rights.”
In spite of the scene before him, Justin found himself suppressing a grin.
“Well,” Lady Billings said, doing her best to compose herself, at which she was doing a rather poor job. She produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks. “Just wait until dear Lady Prudence hears of this foolishness. Half the ton know already that you and,” she pointed her fan accusingly at Justin, “youhave gone well beyond the bounds of propriety.”
Justin knit his brows together, “I have no idea—”
“Ha!” Lady Billings squawked. “Spending over an hour in the company of Mr. Collins’s fiancée? Balderdash! I have investigated the matter myself. And until you can offer a reasonable explanation, I’m afraid I must take my story directly to Lady Prudence herself.”
“Then take it to her,” Cordelia said, her voice deathly calm. “And tell herdirectlythat I do not give a fig about what she has to write about me.”
Lady Billings’s face blanched.
Cordelia began to quit the room before she added, “It’s drivel only read by toffs and bored housewives anyway!”
Cordelia slammed the door so hard that one of the expensive oriental vases that had been rocked to the edge of the fireplace mantel from her earlier entrance fell off, crashing to the ground. Justin placed his hands in his pockets, looking first at Lady Billings and then at Rhys.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he tried, but Lady Billings was halfway out of the room.
“Absolutely not!” she snarled. “And I shan’t be attending tonight either, I can assure you of that as well!”
“Well,” Rhys said, drowning out the sound of his mother’s raised voice echoing off the halls. “Thank you for the… exciting afternoon, Rothesay,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up as he offered him his hand.
“The pleasure was all mine,” Justin replied, returning the firm handshake.
“Cordelia—Lady Cordelia, is a much braver soul than I am,” he added. “I wish you the best of luck with the ball this evening.”
Justin was not sure what he meant by that, but he saw the man off anyway. As soon as they were both packed away in their respective carriages, he went in search of Cordelia.
*
Cordelia was feelingstrangely elated by the time she returned to her bedroom. It was half past two o’clock in the afternoon. She was hungry and her hand ached and her back protested, but they were almost finished with decoding the cipher, and she was not going to let anything stand in her way.
Her three sisters regarded her for a moment, taking note of her white face and triumphant expression, but there was little time for dilly dallying.
“I-I-I th-think we’ve f-found it,” Hermione said.
Cordelia did not answer. Instead, she rushed over to the dressing table. Portia held the page they’d been using to scribble out the words. There were nearly twenty letters in total, each containing its own cipher and others containing two.
“Tell me,” Cordelia breathed, holding a hand over her heart.
“The last piece of this puzzle/ will be found underground/ amongst friends you must go again/ tangled in roses I am waiting to be found.”
Cordelia held a hand to her lips, chewing on the end of a fingernail that had not been marred in ink. There was a knock at the door and the three of them gasped, Portia simply giving them a quizzical look. When she realized someone meant to disturb them, she yelled, “Go away!”
“Dears,” Mrs. Norris’s voice was pleasant, but harried, through the wood grain of the door. “I-I have Mr. Peverill and the duke who would wish to speak with you.”
“Tell them we are not ready!” Portia replied, going to stand by the door.
“Tell them we absolutely insist.” Cordelia recognized the deep baritone of Henry Peverill, and when Portia’s shoulders tensed, she knew that Portia heard him as well.
“Tell them, Mrs. Norris, that if they do not open the door this instant, we will be forced to use brute strength!” Peverill shouted.
