Only a Rogue Knows Page 2

  “I thought you wanted me to become a great pianist,” Cordelia said, hoping that her sister couldn’t see the dismay she was feeling on her face.

  “Of course I do. There’s no law saying you can’t do both, is there? You can play the piano all you like while you’re pregnant, and there are plenty of people to help with the baby after it’s born. You wouldn’t be able to go play anywhere for quite some time, but you’d still be able to play here at the house.” Birdie was almost as excited about the idea as her sister and Cordelia smiled.

  “We shall see what happens,” she said. “I wonder if Mother has any of my old piano books.”

  “You should get new ones,” Birdie said. “She’s probably got them hidden somewhere. Not to mention you wore them out back then. Don’t you remember? The pages were all bent down and ratty.”

  “Bent down!” Cordelia was scandalized. She couldn’t imagine ever being so careless with her things. She was so careful with the pages of her books now that the very idea was unthinkable. Birdie laughed and shook her head.

  “You’re the one who’s being silly, Delia.” The maid knocked again on the door, then came in with a tray with a teapot and some small cakes. Birdie carefully folded her lace over on itself and set it aside as Patricia put the tray on the table before them and poured each a cup of tea. “That looks wonderful.”

  “Thank you, Patricia.” Cordelia smiled at the maid, who nodded her head and bowed back out of the room. “She’s such a good addition to the household,” she said, adding a bit of milk before picking up her cup of tea. “My lady’s maid is considering leaving us soon to take care of her mother. I wonder if Patricia would be interested in learning how to care for my clothes and my personal needs instead of serving.”

  “Would that be proper?”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest. She’s new to serving but as I said, she’s a quick learner. She’s only seventeen, and it seems they learn faster at that age. She’s also clean, and very well-mannered. She only became a serving maid because her mother was one.” Cordelia sipped her tea. “I can ask Mrs. Richmond about it, she’ll know for certain.”

  “You’re quite right.” Birdie picked up the plate with the cake on it. “Although she’ll probably tell you it’s improper and that you should hire someone older.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Mrs. Richmond had come with Cordelia from her parents’ house, and both girls remembered her from their childhood. Even then she’d had iron-grey hair and walked as if she had a rod in her back. Anything and everything was improper to her, and it had been funny when they were children, terrifying when they were teenagers, and now that they were adults it was back to being amusing. Birdie hadn’t been sorry to see her go with Cordelia, who supposed it was better for her to deal with the old woman. If she’d had to live with Birdie and her free-spirited ways, it would likely send her to an early grave. The doors to the sitting room swung open again, this time without warning, and Cordelia looked over to see Arthur coming through them.

  “Good afternoon, ladies!” He went first to Cordelia and kissed her on the cheek, which she allowed with a smile, then did the same to Birdie. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Ellison.”

  “Oh don’t call me that, Arthur, it makes me feel like an old woman,” Birdie laughed and shook her head. “You do know how to make me smile.”

  “That’s good,” he said, sitting on the couch that faced the wing-backed chairs. “It’s such a beautiful smile, it’s too bad we can’t see it all the time. So what are you ladies talking about?”

  “We were talking about a hobby for me,” Cordelia said, adding a little more milk to her tea. It was stronger than usual but she didn’t want to complain. “I was thinking that perhaps I should get a piano. I used to play as a child and I think I’d like to take it up again.”

  “That’s a splendid idea,” Arthur said, crossing a leg over his knee. “I should love to hear you play sometime. We can have one in here in just a few days, I’m sure. You just make a list of what you want to go with it and find a place for it and we’ll get you set up.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you, dear.” Mindful that Birdie was watching her, she leaned across the table to kiss Arthur on the cheek. He offered it to her showily and out of the corner of her eye Cordelia could see Birdie watching them approvingly as she gave him a quick peck. Perhaps playing the piano again really would take her mind off the fact that she would be doing this for years to come. She struggled not to sigh as she sat back and took another sip of her tea.

  The thought did not fill her with hope.

  Three

  The sky was gray and the air heavy as the mourners stood around the grave of the former Lord Whittemore. Cordelia noticed that no one around her was crying, only staring impassively at the casket as the men from the undertaker lowered it into the hole. She supposed she wasn’t the only person to be glad to see him go, but she had no doubt she was the one who was happiest.

  Even though she knew she should feel guilty for even thinking it, Cordelia was glad the old man was out of their lives for more than one reason. Now that he was gone and Arthur was to take his place as Lord Whittemore, they wouldn’t have to put forth the charade of their happy marriage for much longer. The thought was enough to make her laugh but she didn’t allow herself so much as a smile, for propriety’s sake.

  Getting free of Arthur and the Whittemore estate posed a challenge all its own. A judge would doubtlessly grant their divorce, especially if Arthur didn’t fight it, but even though she felt nothing romantically for him she didn’t want to drag his name through the mud. She planned to keep the reason for their divorce as quiet as possible and assumed he would as well, but she had a feeling that it would require some maneuvering that she wasn’t sure she was prepared to do.

  As soon as the casket was in the ground, Birdie detached herself from the larger group and went to Cordelia’s side. Even though she wasn’t strictly required to do so, she was dressed in black and it somehow made Birdie look much younger. The last time they’d been at a funeral together they’d both been girls, so Cordelia assumed that was the reason for it.

  “How are you holding up?” She kissed Cordelia on the cheek. “It happened so quickly, you must be in shock.”

  “Yes,” Cordelia said, looking over at the casket. The crowd was starting to disperse, and the undertakers would come out and start shoveling dirt onto it once they were all gone.

  It had been quite surprising when Arthur’s father developed pneumonia, but he wasn’t a young man and he’d been caught outside in the midst of the hardest rain in months. After another week of rain, he passed away before the doctors were able to treat him. Cordelia had found him in his bed, looking as peaceful as if he was sleeping. She’d gone to Arthur at once to tell him the news and everything since had been a blur. “If only he’d listened to Arthur’s advice and stayed home instead of going to Greenley.” Before Birdie could reply, a man in a dark blue suit came forward with a grave look on his face.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, patting her gloved hand. “You must be devastated.”

  “We certainly weren’t expecting it to happen so soon,” Cordelia said. “Thank you for coming, Lord Whittemore and I do so appreciate it.” The man, who Cordelia was certain she should have known, glanced over at Arthur. He was speaking to the minister and they both looked quite serious.

  “I was hoping to speak to Lord Whittemore,” he said, “but it seems he’s busy. Do you think I could come to the manor once you’re moved in to do so?”

  “Of course,” Cordelia said, allowing herself a small, polite smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him when everything has settled down.”

  “I appreciate it,” the man said. “I’ll leave you to your mourning, Lady Whittemore.” He walked away, nodding at Birdie as he did. She smiled pleasantly at him, then leaned close to Cordelia’s ear.

  “Who was he?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Cordelia said softly. “I’ll describ
e him to Arthur as best I can so he can be prepared when he shows up at the manor.”

  “The manor,” Birdie breathed. “I can’t believe you’re really a lady now. Remember when we used to play at being royalty? I’m so jealous of my big sister.” She was grinning brightly, and Cordelia could just hear what Mrs. Richmond would have to say about it.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Cordelia said. “It’s not all roses. As for the manor, it’s just a move up the hill a bit. More room to rattle around and try and find something to do.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should take up sewing. I may not be good at it but it would give me something to do with my time.”

  “What about your piano?”

  “I haven’t gotten it yet,” Cordelia said. “Arthur bought it but I had a difficult time finding a place in the house for it so it’s still sitting at the music store. At least I think that’s where it is.”

  “Well, you should have no trouble finding a place for it now,” Birdie said, still beaming at her. “There’s probably so much more room that you’ll probably have a whole room for it. Then you could invite me over and hold recitals and all sorts of wonderful things.”

  “I think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Birdie.” The wind picked up and pulled at Cordelia’s hat, which lifted off her head a little. She put a hand on it, not trusting her pins to be up to the task. When the wind died down and she took her hand away, she saw another man coming toward them.

  He was much younger than the other man, and far more attractive. Cordelia noticed his blue eyes before anything else. Set against his black hair, they were a startling color that put her in mind of the ocean. She was so distracted by them that she didn’t hear another word her sister said. Part of Cordelia hoped he would walk past her, as she had no idea if her mouth would even function in his presence, but he came right up to her and smiled.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Whittemore,” he said, his words rounded by a cultured accent. It wasn’t one she’d heard around Greenley; she associated it more with Londoners and the upper classes. “My deepest condolences on your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Cordelia said, lowering her face slightly in the hopes he wouldn’t see her blushing. “Lord Whittemore and I appreciate your coming today to pay your respects.”

  “Of course,” the man said. “I was acquainted with the late Lord Whittemore. He could be a difficult man at times.” Cordelia looked up at him just enough to check that he was being serious, and he seemed to be ready to say more when Arthur bid farewell to the men he was speaking to and waved him over. “If you ladies will excuse me,” he said, nodding to Cordelia and Birdie before he went to talk to Arthur.

  “Oh my,” Birdie said, watching him go with wide eyes. “He’s quite handsome. Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure,” Cordelia said, following Birdie’s gaze. As soon as he was by Arthur’s side, both men smiled and Cordelia sighed. I see, she thought. I can’t believe he would invite one of them to his father’s funeral. “He is handsome, though. Such beautiful eyes.”

  Another pair of mourners came to interrupt her thoughts and she focused her attention on being gracious and accepting their condolences. When she looked over at her husband again, the good-looking man was gone. She wasn’t surprised. That sort of man wasn’t likely to stick around long enough for people to ask questions.

  “I should probably go,” Birdie said. “Richard will be wondering where I’ve gotten to. I’ll come out to the manor once you’re all settled in and have your piano set up so you can show it to me.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you,” Cordelia said, hugging her sister. “Say hello to Walter for me.” Birdie nodded, then hurried off to find her husband.

  Deciding that it was probably a good time for her to find her own husband before anyone wondered why they weren’t together, Cordelia made her way through the mourners to the grave where Arthur was once again talking to the minister.

  “Ah, here she comes now,” he said, holding out his arm when he saw her. Cordelia dutifully went to his side and he smiled at her. She couldn’t help thinking that entirely too many people were smiling at this funeral, but she let him kiss her on the cheek anyway. “Cordelia, darling, I’d like you to meet Reverend Archer. He’s known my father for years.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Cordelia said, then turned to her husband. “Arthur, dear, would you mind terribly if we went home? I seem to have developed a bit of a headache.”

  “Of course not. I don’t want you taking ill with all the moving going on around you. You won’t be able to get any rest. Good day, Reverend.” He put a hand on Cordelia’s waist and led her away from the grave.

  When they were far enough from the rest of the mourners that she was sure no one could hear them, Cordelia turned to Arthur.

  “I’ve kept my end of our bargain,” she said, making sure she was still smiling like a loving wife so as not to arouse suspicion, “now that your father is gone and you have the Lordship, I can petition for divorce. Or would you prefer to do it?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t just yet,” Arthur said, his smile fading. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming. “It seems my father’s will carried a condition that I remain married and produce an heir to the Whittemore estate in order to inherit it.”

  “What?” Cordelia’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we have to remain married until my solicitor can determine whether or not I am truly bound by the condition. It’s possible that I, as Lord Whittemore, would be able to circumvent it but my solicitor needs to look into it further.”

  “Oh, Arthur,” Cordelia said. “You promised me that we would be free of this charade once your father passed away!”

  “I didn’t forsee this,” Arthur said apologetically. “I give you my word that this will be over as soon as possible. You must know I feel incredibly guilty about the whole thing.” Cordelia folded her arms over her chest, no longer caring who was watching. “Please, darling?”

  “Fine,” Cordelia snapped. “But if you don’t settle this soon, I’m going to leave you, consequences be damned.” She strode away toward the carriage, leaving him behind quickly enough that she hoped he couldn’t see her crying.

  Four

  Two weeks flew by in a flurry of excitement as the new Lord and Lady Whittemore moved house and settled into the enormous, sprawling estate that was Whittemore Manor. Before all their things had been brought to the house, Arthur had Cordelia’s piano brought in and installed in a large, beautiful room that had served as a rather neglected library. The books on the walls and wide windows made it feel as if she was in a real performance space and Arthur had already begun affectionately calling it Cordelia’s Conservatory.

  For her part, Cordelia regretted ever thinking that playing the piano wouldn’t help her forget her problems. When she went into the room and looked at her new piano, she felt more at home than she had since she’d married Arthur. It made her happy for a change, something that had become harder as of late.

  Cordelia had spent most of her time when she was a girl playing the piano and, much to her surprise, the ability that her sister remembered so well had come back to her. The beginner’s music books she had sent over were opened, flown through, and mastered in a matter of days and she had put in an order for some difficult ones in the hopes she would be able to work through them a little more slowly.

  She was in the Conservatory playing a simple canon when a knock on the door made her look up. Mrs. Richmond came in, looking severe as usual, with a package in her hands.

  “This just arrived for you,” she said, holding it out. “The address is a music store in London. I suppose Lord Whittemore paid for it to come all this way.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Richmond.” Cordelia took the package from her and turned it over. It was thin, but she could tell it was the music she had asked for. The thought made her smile and the older of the two women indulged herself in a tight smile of her own.

  �
��He must love you a great deal to go to such lengths for a hobby,” Mrs. Richmond said. “You and Bridget are very lucky to have been married to two such loving husbands.” She sniffed. “Many women don’t get the luxury of husbands who care so deeply. It’s as if you two were touched by God.”

  “Yes,” Cordelia said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “We’re both very lucky indeed.” She must have succeeded in keeping her tone even, because Mrs. Richmond gave her an approving nod and left to go about her business.

  Once she was gone, Cordelia sat down at the piano again and opened the package. She tried to force herself to stay calm, but she hadn’t been this excited in days. Being nearly alone in a massive house with no one to talk to, even with her now-beloved piano, had started taking its toll on her. The books that appeared when she set aside the plain brown wrapper breathed life into her and she smiled far more broadly than she had at Mrs. Richmond.

  The top book was far too advanced for her, she could tell that just by thumbing through it, but she also knew that if she worked at it she would be able to play it in time. Part of her felt a surge of affection for Arthur in spite of everything. That he would think her capable of something so advanced was flattering. She wished he did love her. She wanted more than anything for him to love her but she knew that was out of her reach, just like the melodies in the book.

  The second one was more on her level, and she set the others aside and put it on the stand. The notes were a little more difficult than what she was used to and she played through the first sonata slowly, pensively, getting a feel for them as she did. Her mind worked as her fingers moved as if on their own, reading ahead and hoping that her muscles would know what to do.

  Somewhere else in the house, Cordelia could hear someone knocking on the door. She hit a few discordant notes, distracted by thoughts of who had come to visit, but pulled her attention back to the music. She had servants to deal with that sort of thing, and she tried to put it out of her mind while she played on. The notes came more naturally to her with only a few more missed notes and some bars where she had to slow to a crawl, but when she finished the song she smiled broadly at the music. It was perfect. She hoped she would be able to play it at the correct speed soon. It would be even better then.