Page 90 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“There’s nothing so pleasurable as taking tea out of doors.”

Cordelia glanced at Countess Stiles and sipped her tea. “Y-yes, I suppose so.”

“And the weather has been particularly clement of late,” the countess continued. “We must always take every opportunity when it arises, for the weather is at risk of turning at any moment.”

How was Cordelia supposed to respond? Lustful men and sneering glances she could deal with, but delicate Society small talk? In the end she settled for something bland and, with luck, inoffensive.

“I quite agree, Countess Stiles.”

Her companion tilted her head to one side. “It’s just ‘Countess’ after the first address,” she said.

“Oh, forgive me, I d-did not…”

“Neither did I at first.” The countess leaned toward Cordelia and lowered her voice to a whisper. “My Hawthorne quite despaired of me, and I have to confess to taking a perverse pleasure out of addressing some of the less congenial people of our acquaintance incorrectly, just to see the expression of horror on their faces.”

She leaned back in her seat and set her cup aside.

“Of course, that doesn’t prevent me from engaging in a little sport at their expense. In any case, I’d rather you didn’t call me ‘Countess.’”

“Ought I call you ‘ma’am’?” Cordelia said.

“Good heavens, no!” The countess laughed. “That makes me sound like an aged matriarch, though with three grown-up children I confess I’m on the brink of earning that accolade. If you have no objection, you might call me Frederica, if I might be permitted to call you…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia! Oh, how pretty! I only know of one Cordelia, and she was banished for her honesty then executed. A tragic lesson on the frailty of trust.”

Cordelia let out a laugh. “I trust that, rather than making reference to the punishments your husband metes out in court, you’re speaking of King Lear’s youngest daughter,” she said, “who preferred to speak the truth, even if others resorted to flattery.”

“Ah, another student of the Bard of Avon,” the countess said. “I see we’ll have much to talk about. I fear that most women of my acquaintance are not well read. They prefer to study the rules of Society, such as the order of rank among the aristocracy.”

“Do Many Errands…” Cordelia began.

“Very Beautifully, Kate!” The countess laughed. “I’ve not heard that for some years. Not since my Thomasina was young. Where did you hear that?”

“From my youngest sister-in-law.”

The countess glanced toward Margaret, who was chatting animatedly to Mr. Marlow.

“A delightful child,” she said. “What a pity that our children have to lose their youthful enthusiasm and constrain themselves to the rules of the ton. But it’s a necessary evil. I myself was a little wild as a girl, but I believe Hawthorne married me because of it, rather than in spite of it.”

“You were childhood friends?”

The countess smiled. “I’ve known him almost all my life. I believe we were destined for each other, though the path to our union was not a straight one. Had you known Lord Bedford long before you married?”

Cordelia’s cheeks burned with shame. The countess stared at her then took her hand.

“Forgive me for being so forward,” she said. “It’s not my place to ask. Hawthorne is always chiding me for speaking out of turn. But it matters not. The two of you are made for each other.”

“Are we?” Cordelia said, glancing toward James, who was deep in conversation with Sir George.

“You only have to look at him to see that he adores you.”

“But—”

“A difference in rank is no obstacle if a man and woman truly love each other. You may have a few more obstacles to overcome, but that’s half the enjoyment—overcoming them together. And overcome them you will, my dear.”

“You believe so?”