Page 57 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“Robert?”

“The footman who carried your trunk up. Ever so kind, he is. He brought me a ribbon, once. Sixpence, it cost him. A pink one for my hair. He walked all the way to Briarton and back—three miles—just because I said I liked pink.”

Cordelia smiled at the adoration in the maid’s voice.

Love might be the doxy’s ruin, but it was something to be nurtured and encouraged in others. And though the prospect of being a viscountess—mistress of a large house with tenants and servants to care for—ought to have struck fear into her soul, the position afforded her the opportunity to do something for those less fortunate than herself, such as a young couple in love.

A cascade of notes rang in the hallway outside, followed by a single note, eight times.

“Mercy!” Tilly cried. “Forgive me for keeping you, ma’am. Shall I show you to the drawing room?”

“Yes please,” Cordelia replied. “I’m afraid I’d get lost if I tried to find it myself.”

“You’ll find your way ’round soon enough. I suspect them London houses don’t have half the rooms as this house. When I first came here, I learned my way ’round in three days, and Mrs. Case says I’m slower than most due to being a bit of a dreamer.”

Cordelia smiled as the maid chattered on. Perhaps having a maid wasn’t so burdensome after all. And in a world where experience had taught Cordelia that trust should never be given lightly, Tilly might be the closest she’d come to having a friend.

When Cordelia entered the drawing room, there were only two occupants: the footman standing beside the doors, who acknowledged her with a bow, and James’s eldest sister.

Georgiana sat on a two-seater sofa, silhouetted in front of the window overlooking the landscape—the lake at the front of the house that Cordelia had spotted from the carriage on her arrival, the lawn that sloped downward toward a cluster of trees. Softly undulating hills formed the horizon behind which the sun was already disappearing, illuminating the world in a soft-pink glow.

“Good evening, Georgiana.”

The young woman acknowledged Cordelia with a nod, then resumed her attention on the glass in her hand half filled with a pale-red liquid. Cordelia approached the window and looked out, her gaze following the line of the horizon.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “I’d like to explore the walks hereabouts.”

“I daresay you’ve not seen such a view before,” Georgiana said.

Cordelia turned to see the young woman watching her, a cold smile on her lips.

“And,” Georgina added, “I wouldn’t have thought you a very great walker.”

“Why not?” Cordelia said, forcing a smile. “London may lack the magnificence of the country, but there are many fine walks to be had. I can show you, if you like. Hyde Park is—”

“I daresay there are many walks to be had for ladies who take the air, but I thought women such as yourself spent all your time indoors.”

“I take it you mean women who live primarily in London?”

“Or women who work in London.”

Georgiana took another sip of her drink, her eyes glittering. The footman shuffled from one foot to another, then stiffened as he met Cordelia’s gaze.

“Your gown is very pretty,” Georgiana said.

Cordelia smiled and approached the young woman. “Thank you. My friend chose the material, and I thought—”

“I was expecting something far gaudier.”

“Then I’m happy not to have disappointed you,” Cordelia said. “In my choice of gown, at least.”

“I trust the rest of your wardrobe will not disappoint. My brother has a reputation to uphold, and that reputation is at risk now he’s married a—”

“Georgiana!” a male voice cried.

James stood in the doorway, next to his younger sister, who clung to his hand, staring at Cordelia with large cornflower-blue eyes, the same shape as her brother’s.

“Do you intend to make the mistress of Bedford Hall feel uncomfortable on her first night here?”