Page 87 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“Are you well, Georgiana?” Cordelia said.

“Of course I am!” Georgiana snapped. “It’s just a slight chill.”

“One crest looks the same as any other,” James said. “But Sir George is the only man I know who keeps carriage horses of different colors. He values quality and compatibility over appearance. Much like myself.”

He gave Cordelia’s hand another reassuring squeeze.

“And here comes Earl Stiles,” he said as a second carriage appeared, drawn by four chestnut horses. “Another stickler for punctuality.”

“Which is to be expected,” Cordelia said.

James stared at her, and she caught a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Are you…acquainted with the earl?” he said.

She winced at his tone. Surely he didn’t suspect Earl Stiles as having been one of her visitors? The man had a reputation for being unfashionably in love with, and faithful to, his wife. But Cordelia had seen him twice before. In court, when he had delivered justice—or what the men who set the law deemed to be justice—upon some of the women of her acquaintance in London, before Bessie Dove-Lyon had taken her in.

“I have yet to be formally introduced to the earl,” she said. “But I know of him. He’s earned quite the reputation in London as a magistrate. He adheres to the law meticulously, and exercises discretion when benevolence and understanding is required.”

James lowered his voice to a whisper. “Did you…?”

“I’ve never been subject to his justice, if that’s your concern,” she said, frowning. “But I acted as witness to others who had the misfortune to appear before him. He showed them as much leniency as the law permitted.”

“Then my opinion of him is even higher than before,” James said, “which is something of a challenge, given that I always thought him an excellent man. I think he’ll like you.”

“And his wife? Will she like me?”

He grinned. “Wait and see.”

The first carriage arrived and the Marlows, a couple in their fifties, climbed out, followed by a young man with mild features and soft-blue eyes.

“Sir George, Lady Marlow!” Georgiana cried, approaching him with the confidence of the practiced hostess. “What a pleasure to see you again. I trust your journey was enjoyable.”

“Perfectly so, Miss Georgiana.”

“And Mr. Marlow. A pleasure to see you also.”

“Th-thank you, Miss Bedford,” the young man said, coloring.

“You know my brother, of course,” Georgiana continued. “May I present his wife, Viscountess Bedford?”

Cordelia felt her husband’s hand on the small of her back, then he propelled her forward.

“A pleasure,” Sir George said. “I’ve heard much of your beauty, Lady Bedford, and I see that the rumors are woefully inadequate. What do you think, Leonard, my boy?”

The young man’s color deepened and he glanced toward Georgiana.

Rumors…

Cordelia stiffened.

“Oh, George, don’t be a fool!” Lady Marlow said, approaching Cordelia, hands outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You must forgive my husband for being overzealous in his flattery. We’ve heard nothing of you, other than reading in the London Times that young James had finally caught himself a bride. And a very pretty one, I might add. Which is not flattery, my dear. It’s the truth.”

“You’re very kind, Lady Marlow,” Cordelia said.

The young man approached Georgiana, who gave him a smile before resuming her attention on his parents. Then he issued a bow to Cordelia.

“I-I’m most pleased to meet you, Lady Bedford.”