Page 75

“I think it’s probably wise for persons who are about to marry to like one another.”

“I think so, too, and if you and Lord Graymont liked each other, I would have contrived to bring you together in the dungeon, though that would have required a more complex scheme and there was so little time to arrange everything.”

“You thought one of us trapping Lord Graymont in marriage was the only solution to our difficulties?”

“I thought so, but … marriage isn’t what I thought it was; legally, that is.”

“It isn’t?”

“Finch told me.”

Cordelia stiffened. She could think of no justification for a person so unconnected to them to speak to her sister. “Finch? What could Finch have to say to you?”

“He said I couldn’t do anything right. I was ignorant of the law if I thought marriage to Graymont would give me any rights to Delamere. He said that in marriage, women don’t even have rights over their own children. He said Graymont could beat me as I probably deserved for serving him such a turn.”

Cordelia gave her sister’s shoulders a squeeze. Viola often caused people to lose patience, and apparently, she’d had that effect on the usually cool, imperturbable Finch. Finch had neatly, if coldly, summed up some of the reasons why a woman might hesitate to marry.

“Fortunately, you aren’t married yet, so that fate has not befallen you. But you do owe Lord Graymont an apology.”

“I know, but Finch made me think, and I think I must choose disgrace.” Viola straightened in Cordelia’s hold and turned a resolute face to her. “On the whole, I think I can bear disgrace better than to be married to someone who doesn’t want me.”

“Can you?” Cordelia asked, seeing Viola cast herself in a new dramatic role.

“The only worry of it is that my disgrace might hurt Mir or Roz and their chances for happiness. So, I think I must go into some kind of … exile.”

At the sound of carriage wheels, the dog stirred and started barking again. Cordelia rose and took hold of his collar, opening the parlor door just as the outer door also opened. “We’re in the parlor,” Cordelia called.

The dog bounded loose and dashed into the entry. Roz and Mir squealed and scolded the dog. Then the lodge door slammed shut.

Mir appeared in the parlor doorway in a happy glow. “Hector’s escaped,” she said. Her expression changed as her gaze took in Viola. “Has something happened?” she asked.

Roz peered into the little room over Mir’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Cordelia returned to her seat. “Come, we’ll tell you, and you can tell us about the ball.”

Roz didn’t budge. “No, tell us.”

Cordelia looked into their worried faces, their glowing spirits instantly dashed. “Graymont and Viola were discovered in a compromising situation, and Graymont has declared his intention of doing the honorable thing.”

Roz sank into a chair. “I knew it. Everything was going so well. I knew you would spoil things,” she said to Viola. “You always do.”

“Oh, Viola,” said Mir, “I’m sorry. You don’t want to marry him, do you?”

“I don’t. Lady Frome says I must, because my green dress was torn, but—”

“Lady Frome was there!” Roz groaned. “The whole world will know of it. My Season will be ruined by your patched-up sham of a marriage.”

“Nonsense,” said Cordelia.

“Don’t worry, Roz,” said Mir. “Cordelia will find a solution.”

“Not before morning, I won’t. We must all go to bed. The situation will appear brighter if we sleep.” In the morning, Cordelia thought, she could find the dog and a solution if only she had a swim.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the shadow of the trees above the beach, Cordelia shed her boots and coverlet and pulled the dark cap over her hair. Her night at the ball was over, no more tiara or shimmering gown, only clearheaded sense and the last of the moonlight gleaming in a shining path on the water. The wide sea itself made Viola’s deception seem small, not a fatal misstep on which a lifetime should hinge. Her sister should not have to choose between disgrace and a marriage with little chance of happiness. Somehow Cordelia would manage, and they would find a way out of the dilemma. She started down the path.

At the water’s edge she took a deep breath and let a cool wavelet lap over her feet. She shivered at the smooth slide of water against her skin and began to wade into the sea, seeking the place where she could push off from the bottom and let the sea lift her. As soon as she finished her swim, she would go to Graymont. They would talk. Everything was going to be fine.