"Hello, Evans." Cora mustered a smile for the butler when his kind eyes widened in shock at the sight of her. He looked older than when she had last seen him, as though he had aged a decade in only a few month's time. She wasn't too surprised by the change. Her father had that effect on people, most particularly his servants.
Evans glanced briefly at Jonathan before he composed himself and bowed. "It is good to see you again, Miss Notley. Are you here to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Notley or shall I summon Miss Rose?"
"My parents, if you please," said Cora, sounding far more confident than she felt. She could not deny that Jonathan's presence at her side comforted and strengthened her.
Moments later, Mr. Notley's voice boomed from the direction of the library. "The audacity of some people! She should know better than to think she'll be welcomed here after what she's done. You may tell the woman at the door to be on her way. She is no longer my daughter."
Cora had expected a reaction such as this, but it did nothing to lessen her embarrassment. What must Jonathan think of her and her family? She strived to appear aloof when Evans returned and was grateful for his expression of sympathy.
"I am sorry, Miss Notley, but your father—"
"Is a fool," inserted Jonathan. "Would you kindly tell Mr. Notley that Lord Jonathan Ludlow, son of the Duke of Rutland, would like a word with him?"
Cora's eyes widened in astonishment, but she said nothing until Evans had retreated once more. Only then did she grab Jonathan's arm. "Sir, you cannot fabricate such things as titles! My father will learn soon enough that you are not who you say and it will only anger him further."
Other than a clenching of his jaw, Jonathan showed no reaction. He simply stared straight ahead. "I did not fabricate anything."
Cora could only gape at him until Evans returned. "Mr. Notley will see you now, my lord."
Jonathan followed the man, and Cora was left to stare after him, unsure what to believe. Could his name really be Lord Jonathan Ludlow? Was he truly the son of the Duke of Rutland? No, impossible. That would mean he had duped her and everyone else in Askern and at Tanglewood. If there was anyone who valued honesty and integrity above Cora, it was Mr. Jonathan Ludlow.
Or was it Lord Ludlow? Lord Jonathan perhaps, since he’d mentioned he had an elder brother? Did he even have a brohter?
Cora felt thoroughly shaken. If he was the son of a duke, what reason could he have for not revealing his true identity? Why hadn't he said as much to her before now? He had only just asked her to marry him, for pity's sake! Surely that was something you would tell your intended!
Her expression became a scowl, and she began to pace the marble floor. Her father would be thrilled by the news that his eldest daughter had snared the son of a duke, if that was indeed the case. This revelation could be the solution to everything—from her ruined reputation to being rid of Sir Gowen once and for all. And yet it would mean he had fibbed! To her! Cora could not decide if she should be hopeful or infuriated. She waffled between the two emotions, feeling at odds with herself. What else had he withheld from her?
Feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, Cora sank down on a nearby bench and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her mind reeled, crying out for a break from the highs and lows, twists and turns, jolts and surprises. Would she ever feel at peace again? It did not seem likely.
"Coralynn?" came a quiet and gentle voice.
Cora looked up to see Rose standing on the bottom step, looking like a frightened puppy with her large brown eyes. She had on a lovely pink muslin dress with gray trim, and with her dark blonde hair cascading down from a knot at the crown of her head, she appeared as though the past few months had changed her from a girl to a woman. But her appearance alone did not make her ready to take on the role of a wife or mother, not with the likes of Sir Gowen.
Cora slowly rose to her feet, wondering what to say to her sister. They had never been close. Only four years separated them, but it was their differences that had kept them apart. While Cora had embraced learning, finding enjoyment in everything from numbers and history to needlepoint and the pianoforte, Rose did not seem to take to anything. Her efforts had always been lackluster at best. She did not even enjoy an invigorating stroll through the gardens.
Every now and again, Cora had wanted to give her a good shake and say, "If you like something or do not like something, let it be known. One way or the other, have an opinion! Do not settle for not knowing your own mind. That is worse than anything."
But Cora had never shaken her sister or attempted to understand her. She had merely let her casually wander along life's path with the hope that someday she would learn to embrace it wholeheartedly. But she hadn't. Instead, Rose had allowed her parents to live it for her, and now she was to marry Sir Gowen who would no doubt take up the reins of her sister's life. Was Rose destined to forever be under the control of another?
Cora was tired of standing by and saying nothing. "Why in Heaven's name did you agree to marry Sir Gowen?" she blurted.
Something akin to panic appeared in Rose's eyes, as though she did not know what to do when someone asked for her opinion. "I… I do not know. Mama and Papa—"
"Care only for themselves. They are sentencing you to a life of misery so that they might obtain their own lofty aspirations. Does that not bother you? Do you not find that hurtful and unacceptable in the extreme?"
"I'm not sure how I should feel," she stammered.
"Rose!" cried Cora, irritated by her sister's blind acceptance. "What is it you want? If you truly do wish to wed a detestable cur, then by all means, go through with this wedding. But if you have any doubts at all, for goodness sake, speak them!"
Rose's lips began to tremble and tears brimmed in her eyes. Cora would have felt sorry for her outburst if she had not been so glad to see her sister show some emotion for once. Perhaps there was hope after all.
Cora moved forward and took her sister's hands, repeating in a gentler tone, "What is it you want?"
Rose shook her head, struggling to fight back her tears. "I… I suppose I want to be like you, to care about things and be strong. But you and Father were always at loggerheads with each other, always fighting and disagreeing. I do not have it in me to do the same."
"Even if it means a miserable life for you?"
Rose shrugged, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "I have never been truly happy—not like you. I don't even know what it feels like. The way I see it, a life with Sir Gowen would not be much different than the life I have now." She spoke so woodenly and without feeling as she always did. But rather than find it exasperating, the words tore at Cora's heart. Had her sister truly never felt happiness? How could that be?
Cora grasped Rose's arm and held it tightly. "You must trust me, Rose. Happiness does exist and you can have so much more than this if only you choose to want it."
With sad eyes, Rose shook her head. "Even if I do, I have already accepted, the banns have been called, and we are to be married in a week's time."
"You are not married yet," said Cora. "You can still put a stop to it if only you are willing to stand up for yourself. Please, Rose! If nothing else, do it for me. I will stay by you, I promise. All you need to do is tell Father you will not marry that man."
"But—" Rose shook her head, appearing overwhelmed and uncertain.
"Miss Notley." Evans's voice echoed through the great room, startling Rose and making her spin guiltily around as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't. Which was ridiculous. It was not a crime to speak to one's sister, unless, of course, their father had forbidden it, which was likely the case.
"Yes?" Cora answered.
"Your father wishes to speak with you now." His emphasis on the word "father" and the way his eyes sparkled with amusement showed his pleasure in making the announcement. Cora had always liked Evans. While he had never thwarted her father's wishes outwardly, whenever she and her father battled, he had always delighted when she came away victorious.
"How kind of him to acknowledge me now," Cora said dryly, glancing at her sister. "Would you care to join me?"
Rose's eyes widened in fright, and she began to shake her head in the negative, but then she seemed to stop herself and something resembling determination sparked in her eyes. "Yes. I would."
"Good." Cora linked arms with her sister. "I believe both of our lives are about to change for the better in some way, assuming you can stand up for what you want and I can resist strangling Jonath—er, I mean Lord Jonathan." How foreign that name sounded.
The moment they walked into the library, Mrs. Notley flew at Cora in a rustle of orange taffeta. The color clashed with her red hair and painted pink cheeks. "There you are, my dear, dear girl! We have been so worried about you." The embrace was awkward, to say the least. It was obvious motherly affection did not come naturally to her mother, and Cora was grateful when the woman released her.
"Yes, yes," agreed Mr. Notley, smiling fondly at his eldest daughter. He looked the same as he always had—bald and portly, with squinty, distrustful eyes and bushy eyebrows. "How wonderful to have the family back together once more. To think, all this time you have been securing the hand of such an esteemed gentleman! Why did you not tell us where you had gone or what you had planned? I would not have bargained with Sir Gowen had I known."
Cora barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The absurdity of some people. She was certain, now that Jonathan had met the man, he would withdraw his offer of marriage at once. No one in their right mind would willingly enter into an engagement that would tie them to Mr. and Mrs. Notley forever.
"Rose," said Cora. "I believe you have something to say?"
Her sister turned pale and wavered, looking ready to faint at any moment. She stared at the floor, unable to meet her father's eyes. "I…" She began weakly, only to clear her throat and speak with a little more force. "I do not wish to marry Sir Gowen, Father."
"Of course you will not marry him," Mr. Notley said. "Lord Jonathan has assured me that you may set your sights much higher than that man."
"To think," gushed Mrs. Notley. "My eldest daughter married to the son of a duke! I would never have thought such a feat possible! But you have proven me so very wrong, Coralynn, and I could not be more pleased."
Cora felt it necessary to intervene before her parents got completely carried away. "I do not know what you're talking about, Mother. I have not consented to marry any man, not even Lord Jonathan," she said, making her displeasure with him known. "And I'm not certain I wish to any longer."
"What?" blared her father. "Not consent to marry Lord Jonathan? Are you daft, girl?"
"She is obviously feeling unwell," added Mrs. Notley in a frantic tone. "Now Coralynn, you must calm yourself and think rationally."
Cora ignored her parents and continued to glare at Jonathan, whose lips began to twitch in the most maddening way. How dare he—the liar—find this situation humorous!
"Lest you forget, my darling," he said, obviously unconcerned by her anger. "Sometimes a person has a good reason for behaving badly."
"And sometimes that reason is not good enough," she snapped, her tone making Rose flee to the back corner of the room.
Jonathan glanced at Mr. Notley, whose face had turned quite purple.
"Sir," said Jonathan, "I wonder if you would be so kind as to allow me a moment alone with your daughter? I'm quite certain I can bring her around."
Bring me around? Cora thought angrily. As though I am a puppy to be led about by a leash? I think not!
Mr. Notley's mouth opened as though he intended to argue, but Mrs. Notley laced her arm through his and began pulling him towards the door. "Of course you may, my lord. Come along, Mr. Notley, and you too, Rose. Let us give Lord Jonathan and Coralynn a few moments in private."
Cora fisted her hands as Jonathan—no, it was Lord Jonathan Ludlow now—approached her, stopping a few steps away, no doubt realizing it would not be wise to come any closer at the moment.
"You're quite certain you can bring me around, are you?" she said as anger simmered within her.
Rather than answer the question, he phrased one of his own. "Are you not going to ask about my reasons for withholding my full name?"
"I do not care about your reasons."
His lips quirked into a smile. "Ah, so the tables have turned, have they? I recall saying as much to you not so long ago, and yet you saw to it that I listened."
"You lied to me!" she cried.
"Not precisely," he said. "My name is Jonathan Ludlow."
"Are you even from Cornwall?"
"Yes."
"Do you have an elder brother?"
"Two, actually. Peter and Oliver. It is Peter who shall one day become His Grace, the Duke of Rutland, and his new wife Her Grace, the Duchess of Rutland. Perhaps now you can understand better why Peter was much more appealing than me."
At the reminder of his loss, Cora felt her anger weaken, dwindling into something far more pitiful. "Why did you come to Askern as Mr. Ludlow, and why did you not tell me the truth before now?"
Jonathan reached for her hand, touching it tentatively and causing an outbreak of sensations to whip up her arms and through her body. Oh, how she delighted in his touch. She could not muster the willpower to pull away, which he seemed to take as a positive sign, for he tightened his grip and stepped closer, his thumb tracing intoxicating circles across her palm.
"The day I was jilted for my older brother, I realized the only reason Miss Baxter had focused her attentions on me in the first place was because of my title, wealth, and family name. Once she met my brother and discovered she could set her sights much higher, she did so without so much as a twinge of conscience. I knew then that she had never loved me as I had her. The anger I felt at their betrayal made me hate titles and standings and social positions. I knew I could never trust in another woman's love if my name was Lord Jonathan Ludlow, and so I came to Yorkshire wanting a new, untainted beginning as Mr. Ludlow. I know it was a deception in a way, but it was something I had to do for myself, just as you found it necessary to flee your home and become a housekeeper, even though that is not who you are."
He gingerly touched her cheek with his hand, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "Can you forgive me, my darling? I had planned to tell you—truly, I did. I was merely waiting for the right moment, which never seemed to come. When the Pembrokes slighted you in such a cruel manner, I knew the only way to convince them to look past your faux pas was to go to them as the son of a duke, which I have done. The Pembrokes have chosen to think of you as an original, by the by, and will be sending you an invitation to their ball in a fortnight."
Cora felt slightly mollified, but only a little. Why had he not bothered to explain all this before now? "I wish you would have told me."
"And I wish you would not have left without a proper goodbye. I would have accompanied you, you know."
"I did not want you to feel any obligation towards me."
He chuckled, moving his thumb to her soft, plush lips and tracing them gently. "It is not an obligation, it is an honor. Can you not understand that? I love and adore you, Miss Coralynn Notley, and I want nothing more than to take your worries as my own. Will you please make me the happiest of men by accepting my hand and becoming Lady Jonathan Ludlow?"
Cora's heart began to pound like the thunderous sound one hears at a racetrack. How had it come to this? She wanted so badly to say yes, but did he truly know what he was asking and what her acceptance would mean for him?
"Are you certain you want my relations to become yours?" she asked. Now that he had met her parents, he couldn't possibly wish for such a fate.
"If they remain in Danbury, I believe we will get along fine," he teased.
"And if they should move to Askern to be nearer their esteemed son-in-law?"
Jonathan already had an answer at the ready. "Then we shall find them a suitable house on the other side of town as near to the Pembrokes as possible. But let us pray that it will never come to that."
Cora smiled as happy tears wet her eyes. Goodness, she was an emotional mess today.
Ever so gently, he framed her face with his palms before lowering his mouth in what became a delightful kiss. Cora melted against him, winding her arms around his back and returning his kiss with a zeal that he probably found quite brazen. But he didn't seem to mind.
He eventually drew back and pressed his forehead to hers. "Say you'll marry me," he murmured.
"I will," she said with absolute certainty, her mind and heart in complete agreement.
He drew back and grinned, his expression one of triumph. "I knew I could bring you around."
And he had, quite proficiently, she conceded with a shrug. "You are rather good at putting me in my place."
"And you are rather good at not staying put."
She rose to her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, dropping her voice to a whisper. "It is one of the things you adore most about me, is it not?"
"Indubitably." He moved in for another kiss, but she turned her face to the side, and he kissed her cheek instead.
"Would you like to know what it is I adore about you?" she asked, twirling a lock of his hair with her finger.
He drew back and peered down at her, his expression intrigued. "Very much."
She moved her finger to his left cheek, near his lips, and touched it lightly. "Your dimple." Her finger moved to the tip of his nose as she added, "Your slightly crooked nose." After that, she touched the top of his head and trailed her finger slowly back down to his lips, saying, "Your unruly hair, striking eyes, and kissable lips." Her hands settled on his shoulders. "But most of all, I love that you have deplorable taste in paintings."
His lips twitched, and he raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
She nodded. "You've made it clear that you think my housekeeping skills leave much to be desired, so it is only fair that you should be deplorable at something as well. Otherwise we would not suit in the least."
"Ah," he said, as though he found her reasoning very sound.
She smiled and fiddled with the lapels on his coat, thinking how handsome he looked in dark colors. "I adore everything else about you, you know." She peeked up at him, not sure how to say what was in her heart. "I…" Her voice trailed off as words failed her. The joy, love, and hope she felt could not be described adequately, not without sacrificing some of its power. And yet she wanted him to understand and somehow share in the glory of it all.
He clasped her hands to his heart and captured her gaze. "I know exactly how you feel," was all he said, and in that exquisite, most memorable of moments, she knew that he did.