She would not for the world wish to step on Lady Rawley’s toes.
Rather, Darden had found a very ghostly sort of costume, the appeal of it being the headpiece. It was shaped rather like an old nun’s headdress, but then there was a thin veil covering the face. Cordelia had tried it on and it was fascinating—she could see out very well, but her face was blurred in the looking glass.
The entire costume was white, but for the black lace of the veil.
Juliet bounced into the room as Lynette was helping her into the dress. “You shall look a pair,” she said, “one ghost all in white, and another all in black.”
“Just think, Jules,” Cordelia said, “next year you will go yourself.”
Juliet hopped on the bed, despite Lynette’s warning scowl not to wrinkle anything. “Yes, but unlike anything happening here, I will come into my season searching for my poet and I will go to the masque still looking for my poet. Or, I will have already located him and he will be waiting there for me.”
“I cannot help that I do not know what I look for,” Cordelia said.
“You do, though,” Juliet said. “It’s Harveston, is it not?”
Cordelia sighed. “Yes, I think it is, though how I ever arrived at this circumstance, I am sure I do not know.”
“Well, now,” Miss Mayton said, “Beatrice was rather flummoxed over how she came to love Lord Van Doren.”
“We wereallrather flummoxed,” Juliet said, “and some of us still are.”
“But look how happy they are together.”
“That is true,” Juliet said grudgingly. “For all Van Doren’s scolding of us, he treats Beatrice as the best thing living. I give him credit for that at least. Do you suppose Harveston will treat you as the best thing living?”
Cordelia could feel her face set afire at the very thought of it. She said, “I do not yet know if he will treat me as anything at all.”
“Well, I suppose at the heart of it,” Juliet said, “I wish you to be happy and so I’ll put up with whoever you bring home.”
Lynette had set Cordelia’s headdress on her head, adjusted the veil, and pinned it in place.
“You are a very dear sister, Jules,” Cordelia said.
Juliet hopped off the bed. “Don’t I know it. Now, once you are all out of the house, I shall convince Tattleton and the footmen to play cards with me and Lord Darling will act as our chaperone. Perhaps we will even bring in the farmer—he drives poor Tattleton wild with wondering why anybody allowed a goat in the garden.”
She skipped from the room and Cordelia and Miss Mayton were not long behind her.
It was time to depart. It was time to see Lord Harveston. It was time to see what he would say to her, and Cordelia knew what she would say back.
*
Percival’s logical mindhad entirely lost the fight. It had attempted to present all the reasons why Lady Cordelia would not suit. She was not an intellectual and he had long planned to wed an intellectual. She might not view him with the slightest interest.
That was really all that was against it. As for what was for it, well, all he need do was think of her, which he did frequently. His heart had raised its sword to his logical mind and slayed it.
Several times, over days of thinking, he would propose to forget all about Lady Cordelia. That idea had gone down in flames each time.
He realized that he had made some mistakes in how he’d chosen to carry on with life. His early experiences, and seeing what had happened to Dora, had convinced him to live in a world of facts and figures. They had been the armor round his heart, never allowing him to be destroyed as Dora had been.
Then had come Lady Cordelia.
He could not forget about her. How could he, there was nobody like her.
Though, he could not forget that she’d outright said she was looking for a Corinthian.
He was not a Corinthian. He was not even a little sporting.
Percival was working to rectify that deficiency with Hamill’s help, and it was exhausting.
