“Brutus! Truly!” Portia exclaimed. “And here I was wondering why old Buttercup was getting fat.”
“Sam lets me. He doesn’t find fault with women riding astride. Apparently that’s how girls in Cornwall do it,” Cordelia said.
“Yes, in their father’s clothes?”
“Well, I couldn’t very well let our neighbors know their Lady Cordelia rides astride. They’d think me mad.”
Portia exhaled ruefully. “And everyone thinksmethe odd sister.”
Cordelia smiled. “Imagine Lady Billings…” But then she remembered something that gave her pause. She chewed on her lower lip, staring out the window.
“What is it?” Portia asked. “Are you well?”
“Oh, Portia,” Cordelia said, leaning her forehead against the bedpost. “Someone saw me. I-I can’t believe… I must have forgotten in the mad rush back to the house.”
“Someone we know?” Portia asked.
Cordelia opened her mouth to reply but could find no words. Who washe? “My wits are addled from the ride,” she whispered, closing her eyes, conjuring up the lone man in the woods. “He was very tall with dark hair… and eyes that were a piercing blue. Like ice.”
Though the rest of him was shadowy, his eyes were unique, full of life, and full of concern for her. He was so unlike the other men she’d known so far. Men of the ton, who had trained their gazes to be cold and unfeeling, observing the women around them like pieces of art to be sold off and traded. But his was warm and seemed to look right through her.
“Haven’t heard you describe a man like that before,” Portia said, a sly smile spreading across her features. “Are you sure he was even real? Tall, dark hair, and eyes the color of a snowstorm. Sounds like you’re describing the hero of some penny dreadful.”
Cordelia shook her head. “Anyway, I did not recognize him, which means he does not know me and I do not know him and the wretched Lady Prudence has absolutely no idea. He looked like a farmer, no one who….”
“I’ve got your tea!” Bea was balancing a tray full of fine china, scones, and clotted cream. The smell made Cordelia’s stomach rumble.
“You’ll need a few lumps of sugar, to help you with the shock,” Portia said, winking at Bea, who poured the tea out in a very un-Bea way, without spilling a single drop. She seemed to be proud of herself for a job well done.
“Here you are,” Bea said, handing the cup and saucer to Cordelia, who took it from her.
“I’d say those lessons you’ve been taking with Mrs. Norris have finally begun to pay off,” Cordelia commented, pushing off the bedpost to receive the cup from her littlest sister. She blew on the steaming tea before trying a sip. It was so sugary her lips puckered. She placed it on the windowsill.
“She only sits through those lessons because I let her explore the abandoned abbey near the creek,” Portia said.
Bea opened her mouth to protest, but voices coming from down the hall caused them to snap their heads to the bedroom door. Portia furrowed her brow at her sisters. “What is it?”
“…and I told her to make haste! He is coming down the drive as we speak!” Mrs. Norris’s shrill pitch was growing louder.
“No one is due to arrive today,” Cordelia said. “It’s Wednesday.”
Portia’s eyes grew wide and her lips formed into a perfecto. “I was about to tell you, but then your ribs were broken.”
Hermione burst through the bedroom door, her arms stuffed with underclothes and stockings. Mrs. Norris pushed her out of the way, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Dear heavens above and all of the angels! What have you done to yourself, child?” Mrs. Norris’s cheeks were flushed pink.
“I—” Cordelia began, but Mrs. Norris was inconsolable.
“He is making his way down the drive as we speak!” she shouted, running to the window. The four girls joined her vigil. Sure enough, a single man was walking down the drive, tan overcoat blowing in the wind.
“Who is he?” Bea asked.
“The n-n-new duke!” Hermione squeaked. “I th-th-thought he w-w-as due tomorrow!”
“They camped out because the coaching inn was full! Have you ever heard such a thing! I’ve a mind to set him up in the stables, if those are the kinds of accommodations he prefers!” Mrs. Norris was spluttering now. It was going to take hours for her to calm down.
“Not riding a horse either?” Bea said.
