Page 99 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“I didn’t mean to speak out of turn regarding Georgiana,” Cordelia said. “I only want her protected. I—”

She broke off as Sir Iain approached, Georgiana on his arm.

“What do you think, Bedford?” Sir Iain said. “Does not your sister play beautifully? Lady Bedford.” He turned his gaze on Cordelia. “Are you disposed to entertain the gentlemen tonight?”

“I…I’m a little tired, Sir Iain,” Cordelia said. “Pray, excuse me.”

“A great pity,” came the reply, “but a woman is prone to fatigue after overexerting herself.”

“What do you mean?” Cordelia said, and James frowned at the sharpness in her tone.

“The preparations for this house party, of course,” Sir Iain said. “Your delightful sister-in-law told me how hard you worked to ensure a successful event. I do admire a woman who works hard.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I’m always disposed to be kind toward such a gracious hostess.”

Cordelia shifted toward James, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Sir Iain,” he said. “And now, I think, it’s time to retire. We’ve a busy day planned tomorrow—an excursion to Bedford Hill, which necessitates an early start.”

“Retire, did you say?” Sir George said, approaching them. “Capital idea. What say you, my love?”

Lady Marlow nodded. “Leonard, you can stay up if you like,” she said. “I know how you young people like to indulge in cards and so forth.”

Mr. Marlow shook his head, his expression glum as he stared at Georgiana.

“No, Father, I shall retire also,” the young man replied.

The party dispersed, and Sir Iain bowed to Georgiana and kissed her hand before he pressed his hand to his heart. A footman moved about the drawing room, collecting coffee cups, and, after exchanging a few words with him, Cordelia approached the door.

“May I come to your bed tonight?” James said.

“Of course.” She nodded unsmilingly.

He tilted his head to one side. She had responded a little too quickly.

Good heavens! A man wanting consent from his wife? Are you a milksop, Bedford?

Sir Iain’s words in his mind, James took Cordelia’s hand.

“I’ll only visit if you wish it—not out of a sense of obligation or duty, but because it’s what you desire.”

She blinked, and he caught the redness around the irises.

“Are you well, my love?”

“A slight headache, that’s all. But it shouldn’t prevent you from…”

He pulled her to him in an embrace, his heart aching at how she stiffened in his grasp.

“Cordelia, you’re free to choose what happens tonight,” he whispered. “Gone are the days where you must please others to secure your survival. And”—his cheeks warmed—“we need not do anything other than sleep if you wish.”

He held his breath, waited—and hoped. A true sign of her trust would be whether she turned to him for comfort, and, though he greatly desired her, he had no wish to plague her with physical attention.

She paused for several heartbeats, then delivered her verdict.

“I-I should like to be alone tonight, if you have no objection,” she said. “I’m in pain.”