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“You have business in Clifton-on-Sea—”
Cordelia clamped a firm hand on Viola’s knee. The gates of Delamere were in sight. “We don’t mean to intrude, Lord Graymont.”
“Is it your usual practice to walk to the village, Miss Staveley?”
She was conscious of him turning to look at her. “A walk does me good.” Cordelia met his gaze with what she hoped was a perfectly bland one.
Viola leaned forward to add, “And Henry needed the horses for estate business, so we could not take the gig in any case.”
“Making a virtue of necessity, Miss Staveley?”
Cordelia gritted her teeth. It was easy for him to mock their circumstances.
He lowered his voice for her alone. “Or is it something else?”
They passed through the gates, and he drew the carriage to a stop at the lodge door. In the distance the castle stood above them. It felt odd to stop at the lodge, not to go all the way home, so near, and so out of reach. Cordelia gathered her skirts, refusing to let the dismals take hold. She simply needed to separate Viola from Graymont before her sister revealed anything else about their circumstances.
Lord Graymont was down in a flash. He helped Viola, who thanked him and remembered to limp. Cordelia accepted his hand with all the grace she could muster. Obviously, he could see through Viola’s pretense of injury.
Before he let go of her hand, he leaned close again. “Apparently, you are aiming at victory, and your strategy is to exhaust your sister.”
Cordelia straightened and slipped her hand free. To him it was a joke. “That would be a mistake on my part. She’s quite indefatigable.”
He laughed. “Well, such a performance deserved a ride. I hope you have something else up your sleeve.”
“Nothing I would confide to you. By the way, you did not say what you expect to … gain in the unlikely event of a victory.” She turned to look at him.
“You think my victory unlikely?” His brows went up. She couldn’t decide his age. At some moments he looked unexpectedly youthful, and at others his expression made him look older, his face a hardened mask of ennui. Whatever his London life was, she doubted that he wanted to hurry back to it.
“I think everything favors you,” she said. “But do not underestimate my determination to win our wager.”
“I don’t. Victory will be the sweeter for it.” His face wore its impudent, youthful expression. He tipped his hat, turned, and sprang back into his carriage. She watched for a moment as it headed for the castle.
Chapter Five
Gray found Winter setting up office in the ground-floor room they’d chosen the night before. Ever efficient, Winter had arranged a large, plain table under a window to serve as a desk, secured an Ordnance Survey map of the south coast to one wall, and lined up tall, empty shelves on another. Cases of books and supplies stood on the floor. A conversation with Winter was just what Gray needed to dull the impression of Cordelia Staveley on his senses.
He looked round for a chair. “You need a second chair,” Gray said.
Winter glanced up from a pile of papers on the desk. “Do I?”
“If you expect me to hear out your reports.”
“Noted. Take mine. Your London correspondence has arrived.” Winter rose and began to move his chair.
Gray shook his head. “Keep your chair.”
He crossed to the map. Winter had marked several locations with X’s. Stone quarries, Gray suspected. In February, a Parliamentary Committee had chosen a design by the architect Charles Barry for the rebuilding of the fire-ruined Houses of Parliament. Once Barry began the grand project, most of the stone in England would be headed for London. Gray turned back to the desk. “Anything pressing?”
Winter placed a thick envelope in front of him. “There’s a letter from your sister—”
Apparently, Bernice had a lot to say. “I meant anything I should read?”
Winter pushed a second envelope, as thick as the first, across the desk. “An appeal from Warburton and Inglis to return to London. Your vote may be wanted in the Lords on the Tithes Commutation Act.”
Gray shrugged. “That won’t come to a vote for weeks. The Lords are too busy arguing about ventilation in their temporary chamber and whether Barry is the right man for the rebuilding job.”
Winter looked up. “Do you think he is?”
