Page 89 of Lyon of Least Resistance

He knows.

“As you say, my dear,” he said. “I’m not in the courtroom now. And, as you know, I shall always preserve the sanctity of confidentiality and refrain from reference to the courtroom and whomever may enter it, be they the accused or”—his eyes seemed to darken—“a witness for the defense. Do forgive me, Lady Bedford, if I gave you cause to believe that I intended to offend you. I assure you that my intention was quite the opposite.”

“Hawthorne, of what are you speaking?” the countess said.

“It matters not,” Cordelia said. “I am very pleased to welcome you to my home, though my sister Georgiana has kindly taken on the role of hostess, given that I’m unused to the role.”

Then the earl smiled and the thundercloud in his eyes dissipated, turning their dark-brown hue into a warm chocolate.

“Shall we take tea?” Georgiana said. “The rest of the guests can join us when they arrive. I thought we might take it in the rose garden. It’s so warm today.”

“Ought you take tea outside, if you have a chill?” Cordelia said, but Georgiana ignored her and escorted Stiles and his wife inside.

Before they followed, James caught Cordelia’s hand.

“Are you well?” he said.

“It’s your sister who has the chill.”

“I meant in spirits. I’m sorry if Georgiana was harsh. She can be a little short-tempered when she’s unwell.”

And when in full health, at least toward myself.

“I’m quite well,” Cordelia said, “though somewhat apprehensive.”

“You’re doing marvelously. Now you’ve greeted the first guests, things will only get easier.”

“When are the rest expected to arrive?”

“Throughout the afternoon. But now you’ve met Stiles, you can have nothing to fear from the others, surely?”

Cordelia swallowed her fear as the image of the stark letters written on the guest list filled her mind’s eye. Then she nodded.

“Good. Now, perhaps you might persuade Margaret to make herself presentable for the guests? Georgiana will be busy playing lady hostess, and Margaret’s more likely to listen to you. I should like her to join the party for tea.”

He drew her close and brushed his lips against hers.

“Do not fear,” he said. “You’ll be a triumph. Stiles was the only guest that concerned me, but he’s the model of discretion, and, given his wife’s history, he’s also the one most likely to be sympathetic toward yours.”

“Is the countess…?” Cordelia shook her head. “I’ve no right to know.”

“She’s a natural child,” he said. “Something of a scandal when Stiles married her, but they weathered it. As can we. Few know of her true origin.”

Cordelia cringed, then nodded. “I understand the need for discretion, James. But a whore is a considerably worse prospect for scandal than a bastard.”

He flinched, and she sighed.

“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I didn’t mean to distress you.”

“But my past will always come between us, won’t it?”

“Not if we don’t let it,” he said. Then he took his hand and led her inside. She had survived the ordeal of greeting the first guests. But as for the name that had caused fingers of dread to curl around her heart…

That ordeal was yet to come.

Chapter Twenty-Two