"My, but it certainly is refreshing being back on familiar ground. Wouldn't you agree, Landon?" the Dowager Marchioness stated as her ruby-studded fan created a gentle breeze upon her face, the carriage jostling slightly upon the cobblestone road.
Her dark eyes flittered to the handsome gentleman seated across from her when she received no response. He was leaning against the cushioned backrest, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stared out the window at the passing buildings surrounding them, an apathetic expression on his face.
Her forehead creased in a frown. "Landon, did you not hear me?"
"I heard you perfectly well, Mother. But I am indifferent to your sentiments regarding the city and felt it pointless to agree with you," he responded, his deep timbre filling the quiet carriage as he continued to look beyond the window.
The Dowager's red-stained lips twisted in a frown. "Oh, do you have to be so tiresome, Landon? You know that you must find a wife sooner or later. It is the start of the Season and so the city is the best place to look for one."
He turned his stormy gaze towards her then, his handsome features hardening considerably. "I do not wish to marry someone from the city. I am still attempting to get the estates to right and thus have no time to gallivant with hordes of pampered dolls who will ruin all my work in an instant if given half the chance to do so."
His sharp eyes bore into his mother's, and he noticed her shoulders tense at the insinuation lying beneath his words. With a huff, she fanned herself faster. "I only wish to see you have a bit of fun and enjoy your youth."
"It is because you and father enjoyed yourselves too much that I now cannot afford such luxury."
The words were cutting and his expression stern as their gazes clashed for a few turns before the Dowager eventually huffed and looked away, silently bringing an end to the discussion, much to the gentleman's relief.
He returned his gaze to the outside world, taking note of the few changes that had occurred to the city since he was last here. The park near their house looked very much the same, except for a few changes made to the arrangements, including a few new statues erected.
It was as he was looking at a particular display that he noticed a party of four people walking in the distance. They were too far away for him to see their features, but there was something about the one lady that caught his eye. He was not sure if it was her day dress of cornflower blue that drew his attention or how she seemed more invested in looking at the various flowers than listening to her companion, but there was just something almost . . . recognizable about her.
However, before he could watch them further to ascertain his sudden interest, the carriage turned, cutting them from his view. He could not explain the sudden disappointment he felt, and his lips turned in disdain at himself.
He was already dreading his stay to the highest degree. He did not have time for useless frivolity when there were so many things of greater importance that demanded his attention.
"Ah, here we are!" the Dowager suddenly exclaimed as the carriage drew to a halt before their London home.
For the briefest second, he contemplated instructing the driver to take him to the park so that he may investigate the cause for his sudden interest in the woman further, but he shook his head at the thought. She had been accompanied by a gentleman. They were most likely married, and here he was barely stifling the desire to find out more about her.
Despicable.
The door was opened, and he watched his mother be assisted from the carriage before he stepped down onto the paving. Angry with himself for his incomprehensible impulsiveness, Lord Midrake was about to make his way into the house when his mother's words made his steps falter.
"Well, will you look at that? The Mayfield's are back. And she still has that old woman in her employ, I see."
His gaze instantly shot towards the house, noticing that servants were bustling about the home more than usual. While there were always a couple on hand to maintain the premises, the number was excessive. And when he noticed the familiar face of Cordelia's old nurse, he felt his chest tighten in a mixture of uncertainty and hope.
"I wonder what possessed the Countess to return?" his mother continued with a raised brow as she scoffed and turned to walk to the front door of their home. "I certainly do hope that useless country girl has been left where she belongs. The neighbourhood has done well without her here to devalue it."
Landon's gaze was still focused on the neighbouring house and he did not comprehend his mother's words at first. But when he did, he turned to her with a sharp gaze, only to notice that she had already entered the house. Anger simmered beneath his skin, and he gritted his teeth to keep from raising his voice as he walked after her.
He found her in the parlour, discussing dinner arrangements with the housekeeper. As soon as she noticed the thunderous look on his face, Mrs. Prescott quickly curtsied and exited the room, hastily closing the door behind her.
"You will do well to remember that Miss Sutton was a close friend of mine, and I will not have you disrespecting her." His voice was low and powerful, certainly striving for the recipient's complete capitulation.
The Dowager looked taken aback at his sudden surly mood, her eyes roaming his angered features before her eyebrows dipped in a frown, her expression hardening. "And you will do well to remember your place in society, Landon. You are now the Marquis of Midrake, while that country mouse has not a penny nor title to her name. You are above her in every possible way. If you had any sense of propriety, you would know that such a friendship is wholly unsuitable. And should you have any other reservations, let us not forget what she did."
The memory of that day hit him like a stormy sea, clouding his mind and leaving him unable to answer but for the visible tightening of his jaw.
Seemingly satisfied by his silence, the Dowager rung for the housekeeper to return. Landon rolled his jaw once, attempting to ease the ache that had formed as he turned and headed for his study, closing the door behind him a little harsher than necessary.
* * *Several hours had passed before the Marquis left his study and made his way down to the parlour to retrieve a glass of port. His shoulders were stiff from the hours seated behind his desk, and his eyes felt strained. Though he had been attempting to divert his attention with different books and other matters of interest, nothing seemed able to distract him from the thoughts tumbling about in his mind, thoughts that centred on the young girl who had once lived at Mayfield House.
Had she returned? He so desperately wanted to know.
He paused at the threshold of the parlour when he heard the familiar footsteps of his mother, and he turned to see that she had changed from her travelling clothes into a beautifully decorated mauve day dress.
It was the only ostentatious dress that he had permitted her to have since placing a strict budget upon her. She was a woman who loved to be noticed in a crowd and so most of her attires were far too colourful to be appropriate for a mourning widow. Although she was not in the deep phase of mourning any more, she believed that she still had a certain level of appearance to uphold.
Even though she should, strictly speaking, not be in society at all.
"And where are you needed that you are dressed so exorbitantly?" he inquired as he watched her adjust the bonnet placed upon her head.
She huffed at him like a petulant teenager. "If you must know, my loving son. I am going to pay a call to our dear neighbour, Lady Mayfield. It has been many years since I last saw her, and I wish to know how she fares."
"You mean to see how she has aged compared to you."
His mother cast him a heated look, and she twisted her lips in that characteristic expression of silent agreement. "I am also extending an invitation to her for the ball that we will have upon Lady Alicia's arrival in London," she added in an attempt to change the topic. "Mrs. Prescott has prepared a haunch of pork. I may be late in attendance."
"I am not sure why you are telling me, for I am coming with you to visit the Dowager Countess." His words made his mother falter, and she looked at him with slight disbelief. "After all, I am the Marquis. It is only correct for me to speak to old neighbours. Besides, if you are extending an invitation to a ball being hosted in my home, I should be present."
The Dowager stared at him, her gaze probing for any sign of hidden intent in his decision. It was no secret that her son had become quite the recluse upon returning from the war. After all, he had made it abundantly clear to her that he was less than thrilled at returning to London. As it was, last season he had hardly remained for a fortnight. Naturally, she found it peculiar that he suddenly wished to visit the Countess.
But his impassive expression was impenetrable, and she sighed in defeat. "Very well."
Together, they walked the short distance to Mayfield House. It was the butler who answered the door, and they were directed towards a very familiar drawing room where a woman was seated at a writing desk.
"The Marquis and Dowager Marchioness of Midrake, my lady," the butler introduced, his raspy voice carrying across the room and gaining the woman's attention.
Lady Mayfield appeared much the same as the last time Landon saw her six years ago. He did notice a hint of greyness seeping into her dark hair, but her skin appeared even more radiant than he recalled, and her dark eyes were enhanced by the cream day dress she wore. Her waist appeared the slimmest he had ever seen on an older woman, and he knew with complete certainty that his mother had taken note of that fact as well, her lips thinning in jealousy.
His gaze inadvertently moved about the room but realized that Lady Mayfield was the only one there. He attempted to keep the way his heart sank invisible to his company as greetings were conducted and they were invited to sit.
"My dear Lady Mayfield, I am very glad to see you again and in such great health," his mother began as she accepted the tea offered to her. "I must admit that I was not expecting to see you in London."
"It is the start of the Season, Lady Midrake. We have resided here for over a week already."
The Marquis felt his breath catch in his throat at the Countess' words. We.
The Dowager paused. "Your son and yourself, I presume?" she asked slowly, hinting at what she hoped would be the situation.
"And my niece as well, of course."
Landon watched his mother's expression contort with disdain and noticed that the Countess was watching her as well, dark gaze focused intently upon her, clearly anticipating the possibility of a harsh remark.
The Dowager cleared her throat gently, allowing her expression to grow calm once more. She took a sip of her tea before looking back at her. "Oh, how delightful. I see she is not here though. Where is she?"
At that moment the soft sound of a feminine voice was heard from the entry hall as the front door was opened and closed, followed by the approaching sounds of footsteps. Immediately, Lord Midrake's attention was upon the threshold of the drawing-room, and he felt his heart stop beating as he beheld the beauty who entered dressed in a cornflower blue dress.
He froze, unable to shift his gaze away from the entrance of the room. He watched the young woman's radiant smile falter upon the realization that there were guests as her eyes moved to where they were seated. In an instant, her shoulders tensed and her expression pinched when she realized exactly who it was that was seated with the Countess.
After what felt like an eternity, her expressive cornflower blue eyes met his stormy gaze, and he noticed the subtle tightening of her hold on a gentleman's arm, her face paling. She quickly averted her gaze and released her hold on her companion, offering them a small curtsy. "Forgive my intrusion. I was not aware of any visitors."
Her voice whipped the Marquis from his state of paralysis, and he numbly rose to his feet, offering her a bow in greeting before straightening. His actions were without thought, conditioned by years of society. He was fortunate for the instinctive habits since his mind seemed far too preoccupied with other matters to focus on such mundane actions.
After all this time . . .
His throat felt dry, and he could not keep his gaze away from her, quietly taking in every detail of her lithe frame and feminine face, taking his time to become reacquainted with her features. She had grown into such a breathtaking lady, that for a moment, he found it difficult to believe that she was the same girl whom he was friends with so many years before.
But he knew it was her. He could never forget those startling cornflower blue eyes.
Cordelia.
The Countess smiled at her in reassurance. "Do not fret, my dear." She turned to look back at the Dowager. "Lady Midrake, I believe you know my niece, Miss Sutton, and a close friend of hers, the Viscount of Tilbur."
The Viscount smiled as he gestured to the Marquis and Dowager. "Yes, we have met before. Delighted to see you again."
Landon focused on him then, his expression becoming as cold as stone. Yes, he recognized him, and now he liked him even less.
Lady Midrake remained silent, the urge to utter a sharp retort pressing against her teeth. But when she gazed upon the smiling Viscount, she swallowed the comment with a disdainful twist of her lips and returned his greeting with as much cordial affection as she could muster.
The Marquis, on the other hand, did not utter a word as he remained standing, noticing the slight discomfort his intent gaze and silent reception gave them.
Close friend , he thought with a frown.
Before the room could lapse into another awkward silence, Lady Mayfield looked back to the increasingly uncomfortable young lady. "Miss Sutton, why not go and change into something a little more comfortable for tea? Lord Tilbur, you are welcome to join us."
The Viscount bowed once in acknowledgement. "Thank you for your invitation, but I am afraid that I am late for another appointment. I only wished to ensure that your niece returned home safely after our walk in the park. Lord and Lady Topham received urgent correspondence and so could not walk her back. They apologize for not having delivered her properly."
The Countess looked as though she was about to respond, but Cordelia turned to him quickly, clearly wishing to escape the room. "I shall see your leave," she said with a soft smile to the Viscount.
He nodded once, and Landon felt his stomach coil at the sight of his charming smile directed at her.
"Thank you," Lord Tilbur stated and looked towards the rest of the people in the room. "It was lovely to see you again."
Landon frowned as he watched them turn from the room, instantly taking a dislike to the close friendship they seemed to share, and he felt his chest spasm in disdain when he noticed the Viscount's hand briefly touch Cordelia's elbow as they walked away.