Page 70 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“Entertain?” The disappointment in her eyes turned to fear.

“I’ll be expected to host a house party,” he said. “It’s impolite for a newly married man not to invite his friends and neighbors to pay their respects to his bride.”

“It sounds as if we must pay respect to them.”

“Perhaps, but it comes with marrying a title. Surely Mrs. Dove-Lyon told you that? After all, aren’t all her customers women who wish to marry titles? I take it there’s no concern as to whether anyone might recognize you?”

Her smile slipped. “Men rarely bother to look at a doxy’s face.”

She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it firm until she yielded.

“There’s nothing to fear,” he said. “I’ll help you. And Georgiana also. She can teach you the rudiments of etiquette.”

She said nothing as they drew near the lake.

“I-I know Georgiana isn’t enamored of your being Lady Bedford,” he said, “but she values the family honor and will help you all that she can in order to preserve it. She’ll warm to you in time once you’ve settled into the role.”

“That’s very kind of her,” she replied, an edge to her voice.

“There’s a moorhen, look!” Margaret cried.

James released his wife’s hand and she strolled toward the water’s edge, revealing a slight limp.

Had she injured herself when she fell? Why, then, had she said nothing?

Because you’re an arse, James Bedford. Because you’ve failed to earn her trust.

But in time she would understand that by schooling her in the customs of propriety, honor, and her role as a viscountess, James was doing her the greatest service he could by shielding her from the derision of the Society into which she had married.

Perhaps that was why men never married their mistress, maids, or doxies. Because the world would always punish them for it.

Chapter Seventeen

I miss you so much, dearest Isidore. Much as I love my new home, I don’t belong here at Bedford Hall. Do all the other women who employed Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s services have the same concerns, I wonder? A woman of doubtful reputation will always suffer the derision of the class into which she marries, but a woman such as I? James may not say it outright, but I fear he regrets our union already.

With a sigh, Cordelia glanced up from her letter toward the window and the view outside. The sunlight bathed the landscape, which shimmered with shades of green that spoke of health, vitality, and fertility. She should be blissfully happy here, but…

She resumed writing.

He has yet to visit my bedchamber, and I see the fear in his eyes that grows deeper each day. I am certain that he believes it’s only a matter of time before I’m recognized. I cannot bear the thought of his suffering because he had the misfortune to marry a…

A voice spoke from behind, and Cordelia froze.

“I understand from my brother that I’m supposed to instruct you in etiquette.” Georgiana stood in the doorway.

“Will you join me?” Cordelia said, gesturing to an armchair, but Georgiana made no move. “I can send for some tea. Mrs. Vaughan baked some of her oat biscuits yesterday. They’re very—”

“I know about Mrs. Vaughan’s biscuits,” Georgiana retorted. “After all, this has been my home all my life, but yours…for how long?”

“Almost a month, as you know.”

“Yet you still don’t know that ladies aren’t supposed to take tea at this hour.”

“Then it’s fortunate that I’m no lady,” Cordelia said. “Please, join me. We haven’t talked since I came here. I would like to know you better.”

“Did my brother instruct you to say that?”

“Believe it or not, Georgiana, I’m at liberty to say, and do, what I please.”