A Sense of Propriety

Chapter 20

The memories rushed over her like a bucket of rinse water being thrown across a floor. She remembered the anger in his gaze, the arrogance on his lips, and the scorned dip of his eyebrows.

Her grip tightened on the partly open door, her mind spinning. What was he doing here?

The Marquis seemed to have asked the same thing, for she just managed to hear Lord Tilbur respond, "Her Ladyship, the Dowager Marchioness invited me to Lady Alicia's ball. I hope you do not mind that I have come at such short notice, but I was already in this part of the country."

He had a charming smile on his face that set Cordelia's nerves affray.

She could hear the frown in the Marquis' voice. "I was not aware of this." His head tilted towards his mother who shrugged and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do not be so uptight, Landon. He is my guest, and I expect you to treat him as such." She then turned to the man standing before her. "You must be tired after your journey, Lord Tilbur. Please, follow me to the parlour for some refreshments."

He bowed slightly to the Dowager and walked after her, passing the Marquis as he did. Their gazes locked, and the Marquis' jaw tightened at the arrogance that danced in the Viscount's eyes as he passed him.

He watched silently as his mother directed the new guest to the room mentioned, and his hands tensed at his sides. With a harsh exhale, he turned and moved in the opposite direction of his mother and the Viscount, and a footman quickly opened the door to his study.

Cordelia watched him enter before the heavy door was closed behind him with a firm thud. She lowered her eyes and returned the way she had come.

She had hoped for the last few days she shared with her friend to be pleasant, but with the unexpected arrival of the Viscount, she was not certain if that would still be possible.

The path to her room was quiet, her ears attentive to even the slightest sound that could signal the approach of footsteps. When the familiar expertly carved double cedar wood doors came into view, she rushed as she clasped onto the gilded doorknobs and entered, closing the door quickly behind her.

With a heavy sigh, she raked her fingers through the golden strands of her hair, loosening the tight knot to allow the tresses to cascade down her back in a mess of tangles. With shoulders that felt unnaturally heavy, she looked around her designated room.

It was without a doubt one of the most beautifully created works of art she had ever seen. Filled with deep wood furniture and gold trimmings, she felt that this room was far more extravagant than what guests should use. But Martha had assured her that this was the correct room. The Housekeeper informed her that the sleeping arrangements had been decided by the Marquis himself.

She had just sat down to the dressing table and clasped a silver brush in her hand when a knock came to her door. She responded and watched the door open to reveal the face of her dear friend, who had a sly grin upon her rose-pink lips.

"Cordelia, you will not believe who just arrived!" Lady Alicia stated enthusiastically as she entered.

She pretended to be confused by her words and replied, "Who?"

The smile on Alicia's face was blinding. "Why, it is Lord Tilbur! You must remember him—your old beau from London? He has come for the ball. Oh, Cordelia! He was so happy to hear of your stay. I still find it peculiar that he had never asked for your hand before, but I suppose there was no appropriate time with your aunt's injury. I have hope for the two of you yet!"

Cordelia's fingers grasped the handle of the brush tightly, a stroke of pain flittering across her eyes. She had never told her friend about the rejection. Proposals were a serious matter, even more so if one was rejected—and such a handsome one at that.