CHAPTER TEN
Cordelia was proud of her cousin. So proud, in fact, that she had even suffered through Eugenia joining them for ices at Gunters, where she’d traded smiling insults with her old rival while Trix had tried not to burst out laughing.
She was proud that Trix held it together when snubbed by some of the Ton’s highest sticklers, and that she did not let the wicked caricature that appeared in the print shop windows to upset her as much as it could have.
Mostly, though, she was proud of the way Trix was holding up her chin as Lady Gloucester offered to cancel the Literary Gathering.
“I am very much looking forward to sharing my stories, even if no publishers will be there to hear them.”
They were gathered around the fireplace in the Delby’s sitting room, eating tiny, exquisite cakes and drinking souchong tea. Cordelia’s mother had refused to let Trix hide from the world, but she was not heartless. When Lord and Lady Gloucester had arrived asking to speak with them all, Lady Delby had requested that Cook send up Trix’s favourite afternoon treat to help steel her nerves.
They also happened to be a favourite of Lady Gloucester, which Cordelia was happy to note.
“Do you want publishers there to hear them?” asked Lord Gloucester. “I am sure that Mr Lackington and Mr Allen would welcome an invitation.”
Cordelia had to stop her mouth from dropping open. Although she had been certain that Lady Gloucester would support Trix, her husband was something of a stickler for proprieties, no matter how dashing his wife.
“Thank you, but no,” said Trix with a small smile. “I think that I may wish to avoid publishers in general from now on.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” replied Lady Gloucester, setting her teacup down onto the table with a firm clink. “For a moment there I thought you were demonstrating backbone and was very proud of you.”
“Abby,” said the Earl with a warning note in his tone, but his wife snorted in response.
“Don’t you Abby me when you know I am correct. Trix, you’ve been doing marvellously since the news came out, and a real credit to your Aunt in your mature behaviour. But as someone who has incurred the wrath of the Ton more times than she can count – and many of those times were before I had the sense to marry an Earl – listen to me when I say this to you. Never back down, never apologise. Hold your head high and be proud. Not only a little, but all of the time. Publish more books. Let everyone know that you are planning to publish more books. Be proud of them.”
“I wonder if some of it is because there is only one person she would like to publish with,” said Cordelia’s mother, which provoked a gasp from Trix and a chuckle from Lady Gloucester.
“Yes, Felix is quite taking, isn’t he?” said Lady Gloucester, although Trix did not respond.
Cordelia found herself thinking a lot about Mr Drake for the rest of the day. She had assumed that he must have been the one to send the story to the paper, but the thought that perhaps it didn’t make sense was starting to claw at her.
Besides, Trix’s determination to make the best of everything was starting to break her heart. She could not be sure, but Cordy strongly suspected that something had happened out on the terrace at the Putney’s soiree, for Trix had very deliberately shown no interest in anything to do with Mr Drake. She’s even gone so far as to turn down the offer of using the Delby lawyer to ensure that she received fair payment for her work.
It was very troubling, and Cordelia could think of only one solution.
The day of the Gathering rolled around, and Cordelia decided that it was time to put her plan into action.
“Mother, may I take the carriage to go shopping if I take my maid with me? I would very much like to buy my cousin a little something to cheer her up,” she’d said as she walked into her mother’s sitting room. She had deliberately timed her visit to just before her mother’s customary nap, thereby minimising the risk of having to go shopping with her parent in tow.
“Yes, dear, but make sure Mary stays with you!” her mother had called from her chaise lounge without even opening her eyes.
Trix, who had begged for a few hours to make sure she was completely happy with her story before reading it out, was safely out of the way, and so Cordelia was able to make her way down to the family coach without any concern of being discovered.
She arrived at the small house at Beaumont Place a little after noon and promptly handed her card to the butler who opened the door. She had been waiting less than a minute before a frazzled-looking Mrs Raven, still in a morning dress and mob cap, appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Lady Cordelia! My apologies, I was not expecting visitors today! Please, come on up to the parlour where we can be comfortable.”
“No need to apologise, Mrs Raven, for I have been terribly ill-mannered by dropping in on you without notice,” said Cordelia with a cheerful grin. “I do hope it isn’t a terrible inconvenience!”
“Not at all,” she replied, motioning for Cordelia to step through into a very pleasant room. “You know Ambrose and Felix, of course, but may I take the opportunity to introduce you to my uncle, Lord Philip Drake?”
Cordelia paused as the exquisitely dressed father of Felix Drake performed the most graceful bow she had ever seen.
“So you’re Delby’s eldest, are you?” he said, smiling at her. “I’m glad that you inherited your mother’s beauty rather than your father’s looks.”
She giggled despite herself. “How do you do, Lord Philip? I am very happy to make your acquaintance.”
“And I yours, my girl, since I am forbidden from contacting your family.”
“Father, please,” said Mr Drake, his cheeks flushing. “How are you, Lady Cordelia?”
“Well, thank you,” she said with a smile, and then because good manners demanded it, she added: “Hello, Lord Ambrose.”
“Lady Cordelia,” he replied with a reverence that made her uncomfortable. “The day is infinitely better now. Please, would you like to take this seat beside the fire?”
“Nonsense,” said Lord Philip before anyone could respond. “A pretty thing like this will want to sit beside only the most elegant and refined man in the room. She can share the sofa with me.”
She giggled again. “Have you been in London long, Lord Philip?”
“Only a day or so, my dear. I came to share news with my family.”
Ambrose cleared his throat noisily. “To what do we owe this very great pleasure of your visit, Lady Cordelia?”
“I should have thought that obvious. I’m here to ensure that Mr Drake attends the Literary Gathering of Dubious Merit this afternoon.”
Mr Drake winced. “Abby has already called to see me, Lady Cordelia, and expressed her view that it would be better for Miss Manning if I were not to attend.”
“Nonsense. I am Trix’s cousin, after all, and I know her better than anyone. It would do her a world of good to see you there.”
“But would she want me?” said Mr Drake, and the bleakness in his voice was enough to convince her that Mr Drake reciprocated her cousin’s feelings.
“She’s angry at you,” conceded Cordy, unable to lie to him about the situation, “but I think that’s understandable. I don’t believe that you posted that idiotic piece in the gossip columns, Mr Drake, and if you but explain your side of things to Trix then I am sure it will all turn out for the best.”
He grimaced. “Perhaps you are unaware, Lady Cordelia, but your father has forbidden me from contacting Miss Manning. I doubt he will be very happy to discover I have spoken with you, either.”
“I hadn’t known that,” said Cordelia before chewing on her lip.
“Leave Delby to me, my son,” said Lord Philip with a casual wave of his hand. “He’s an old friend, and I am sure I can talk him around.”
“It would help if we knew who was responsible,” said Cordelia. “Could it have been your mystery authoress? No, I suppose it would not have been, would it?”
There was the slightest pause before Mr Drake answered. “No, but I am certain that this person meant no harm.”
“What’s done is done, so it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things,” said Cordelia, dismissing it from her mind. “What does matter is Trix. We’ve called in all the resources we could, and I think she is going to get through this relatively unscathed. She has her heart set on being a writer, you know, and I do think it is for the best if she continues to publish with you. That way the Ton will grow bored. As Lady Gloucester says, one should never apologise or show weakness to the Beau Monde.”
“That seems like something Abby would say,” he replied, smiling despite everything.
“You need to hear her stories. I promise that you are going to adore them.”
“You are a very good cousin,” murmured Mrs Raven.
“Will you come, Mr Drake? Lady Gloucester would never turn you away, you know.”
“I am not so sure of my welcome,” said Mr Drake, but she could see he was starting to waver.
Lord Philip, however, seemed to have had enough. “You will absolutely do as this intelligent young woman demands, Felix, and in the meantime, I shall go renew my acquaintance with her father.”
“Very well!” laughed Mr Drake. “I shall give in to you all with grace!”
The butler came into the room at that moment, approaching Mr Drake with a folded sheet of paper. He frowned as he flicked it open and read the contents.
“It seems today is destined to be full of interesting developments,” he commented. “The lawyer for our Mysterious Authoress has just requested my immediate presence at his office.”
“But you are still coming to the Gathering, yes?” said Cordelia, desperate to secure Trix’s future.
Mr Drake smiled. “I promise it. Now if you will excuse me, I must see to this matter at once.”
“I should be heading home as well,” said Cordelia as soon as Mr Drake had taken his leave. “I must change before the Gathering, and make sure that my cousin has not dropped ink all down her front! I’m so pleased to have made your acquaintance, Lord Philip, and hope to see you again soon. Mrs Raven, Lord Ambrose.”
“Allow me to escort you to your carriage,” said Ambrose, jumping up toward her so suddenly that she took an involuntary step backwards.
“There is no need; my maid is waiting for me,” said Cordelia, not at all sure how to stop him as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
“You cannot let me appear less than chivalrous before my noted uncle,” said Lord Ambrose, provoking a chuckle from his relative.
Cordelia relaxed a little. “Very well, but I promise you, it is not very far at all!”
Her relaxation lasted only as far as the landing. Lord Ambrose leant in far too close to her, his voice barely a murmur.
“My dearest Lady Cordelia! The fallout between our families – I despaired of ever being able to see you again!”
She gritted her teeth. “How silly of you! We hardly know each other, after all.”
He looked taken aback at her words for just a moment, before swiftly turning his expression back to one of dumb admiration. “How like you to joke! But you must know – how can you not know! – how much I adore you, Lady Cordelia. Perhaps since the first moment that I met you.”
“Enough, Lord Ambrose,” she said, pulling her arm away from his as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I admit that you are a handsome and refined gentleman, but you must know that I do not believe that we would suit. I beg of you to leave off this nonsense before you make both of us deeply uncomfortable.”
The expression in his eyes was almost calculating. “I see. You have read so many of your cousin’s stories, my dear, that perhaps this is not exciting or dashing enough for you. I apologise, I should have thought of that. My next declaration will be worthy of a novel.”
“Don’t declare at all,” she replied, not even bothering to be polite.
He laughed. It sounded bitter. “Come now, Lady Cordelia! You have constantly made up excuses to spend time in my company, even sought me out at events. Do not now pretend that you are uninterested in me. It is unbecoming in you.”
Cordy felt her mouth drop open, and it was several minutes before she could recollect herself.
“You are utterly delusional,” she told him, not sure whether she was angry, amused, or both. “I have been polite to you merely for the sake of my cousin. I take leave to remind you, Lord Ambrose, that it is unbecoming of you to assume that you ever had a hope of engaging my affections.”
“How dare you speak to me like that! I am the son of the Marquis of Godwin!”
“Yes,” she said, looking down her nose at him, “A younger son. Now I really must be leaving.”
“Your hat and gloves, my Lady,” said the butler, and Cordelia almost jumped out of her skin when she realised that he stood beside the door – and from the smirk on his face, he probably had been the entire time.
It seemed that Mrs Raven’s staff did not like Lord Ambrose any more than she did.
The butler held open the door for her as she exited, taking the few paces toward her carriage at quite a speed.
“I’m so sorry for keeping you, Mary!” she said, smiling at her loyal maid.
Mary, however, was looking back toward the door of Mrs Raven’s house.
“Who is that gentleman in the doorway, my Lady?”
Cordelia didn’t even bother to look. She ordered the coachman to take them home before smiling at Mary.
“The handsome one? That was Lord Ambrose.”
Mary shuddered. “I don’t know if I’d call him handsome with the way he was looking at you. Best be careful, my Lady!”
Cordelia laughed. “Lord Ambrose? Pooh! I’d be more afraid of a kitten!”
*
Felix was overdressed for a visit to see a lawyer, but he was already cutting his time fine if he wanted to attend the Literary Gathering, so had opted to dress more formally than was necessary for a business meeting.
His mind was still reeling after the conversation with Lady Cordelia, and hope had flared in his chest for the first time since he had spoken with Lord Delby.
His business head told him that if Miss Manning could find a way to hold her head high despite her new notoriety, then she had the potential of becoming a very well respected authoress. Even if she didn’t want to speak to him ever again, he was determined to ensure that she was introduced to other gentlemen in his business, and was prepared to pay for the printing costs if that was what it took to help her realise her dream.
His heart, however, was telling him something quite different. The memory of their kiss had haunted him, and his room contained scores of half-written letters to Trix declaring both his innocence and his adoration.
He had never managed to explain. For a man who made a living by printing words, it seemed he was damned awful at writing his own.
He hoped that by the time he came face to face with her again in a few hours, he would be able to speak his mind clearly, to apologise for his part in the mess, and hopefully convince her to allow him to court her.
It was more likely that he would babble incoherently and make an utter fool of himself, but it was worth the risk.
The clerk for Mr Hammond greeted him warmly, asking him to wait for a few moments while he went to see if his employer was ready for their meeting. Felix paced the office rather than taking a seat, for his thoughts were still more occupied with thoughts of winning over Trix.
“Mr Drake? If you would be so good as come through,” said the clerk, motioning toward Mr Hammond’s office with a flourish that would make any butler proud.
Mr Hammond, an elderly gentleman who clung to the fashion of a powdered wig no matter how out many years it had been out of favour, stood as soon as Felix entered the room.
“How good of you to come so quickly,” said the old lawyer, with only the slightest hint of reproach in his voice.
Felix, however, was not paying any attention. There were two other people in the room with Mr Hammond; a vicar of indeterminate years but smiling countenance, and a middle-aged woman wearing a navy blue pelisse who looked familiar.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” said Felix, frowning slightly.
“Not at all,” replied the gentleman. “In fact, it is a considerable pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Drake, even if I do not approve of how the situation has come about.”
“Hush, John, you know very well why I did it, and it has all turned out for the best. How do you do, Mr Drake? It is nice to meet you finally.”
“I’m afraid you both have the advantage of me,” said Felix, glancing between the couple and his lawyer.
Mr Hammond smiled, the vicar chuckled.
The woman in front of him shook her head. “How stupid of me! I am your Mysterious Authoress for The London House – although I believe you have discovered that I am not the real writer. Of that book, at least.”
She fished about in her reticule before handing her calling card.
He read the name three times before he could fully comprehend the meaning.
“But this means that you…”
She inclined her head at him. “Indeed I am.”
“Good God,” said Felix as he sat down.
Mr Hammond thoughtfully pushed a tumbler full of whisky toward him.