Chapter 13 - The Price of Being Protected
Cordelia wanted to search Thornwood immediately.
Julian refused.
She looked at him.
He sighed.
“I am about to repeat an old mistake.”
“Yes.”
“May I suggest waiting until daylight?”
“Better.”
“The house has been entered twice.”
“True.”
“A man was shot today.”
“Also true.”
“Edmund needs a physician.”
Cordelia looked at the sleeping boy in her arms.
“Fine.”
Julian blinked.
“That was unexpectedly easy.”
“Do not become accustomed.”
They returned to Ravensworth.
The doctor confirmed Edmund had no serious injuries.
Cordelia sat beside his bed until dawn.
Julian remained outside the door.
She discovered him there when she emerged.
“You stayed?”
He looked half asleep.
“Apparently I do that.”
Cordelia remembered Edmund’s testimony.
Family stays.
Something inside her softened.
“Come inside.”
Julian looked surprised.
Edmund slept between them while early light entered the room.
Cordelia whispered, “I was wrong about one thing.”
“Only one?”
“Do not ruin it.”
He smiled.
“I thought accepting help meant surrender.”
“And now?”
“It depends on whether help leaves you free afterward.”
Julian nodded.
“I am learning.”
“So am I.”
Their hands rested on the blanket.
Slowly, Cordelia turned hers.
Julian placed his fingers between hers.
No proposal.
No bargain.
No rescue.
Just a hand.
At Thornwood later that morning, they removed Eleanor’s portrait.
A narrow recess appeared behind it.
Inside was a ledger wrapped in oilcloth.
Vale’s real accounts.
Payments to judges.
Surveyors.
Clerks.
Malcolm Harcourt.
Mrs. Pritchard.
And several names that made Westcott swear.
One entry was different.
C.A.—bridge problem resolved.
Cordelia stared.
Her father had been reduced to an accounting note.
Julian found another.
R.B.—powder delivered.
Ravensworth Blackwood.
His father.
Julian closed the ledger.
For a moment he looked like a boy rather than a Duke.
Cordelia touched his arm.
“He killed them both.”
“Yes.”
“We will prove it.”
Julian stared at the page.
“I spent fourteen years thinking my father simply became ill.”
“So did I.”
He looked at her.
Shared grief passed between them.
Not romantic.
Not beautiful.
Something deeper.
Recognition.
Vale’s trial became inevitable.
His network collapsed within days.
Banks froze accounts.
Officials resigned.
Malcolm Harcourt confessed to conspiracy and agreed to testify.
Mrs. Pritchard disappeared before authorities arrived.
The immediate danger lessened.
Yet Cordelia remained unsettled.
One afternoon, Westcott visited Thornwood carrying documents.
“Your trust has been restored.”
Cordelia sat slowly.
“What does that mean?”
“The forty acres are legally yours. The geological survey has been verified. Several companies have expressed interest.”
“How much?”
Westcott smiled.
“Enough that Mrs. Ashworth will never count coal again unless she takes up mining as a hobby.”
Cordelia laughed.
Then cried.
She did not expect to.
Money had caused so much pain that receiving it felt suspicious.
“What about Thornwood’s debt?”
“Controlled by the trust.”
“My trust?”
“Yes.”
“Because Julian transferred it.”
“Yes.”
Cordelia looked toward Ravensworth’s distant hills.
Westcott cleared his throat.
“He lost money doing that.”
“I know.”
“Considerable money.”
“I know.”
“He did not mention it?”
“No.”
“He instructed me not to.”
Cordelia sighed.
“Of course.”
Westcott smiled faintly.
“He is trying very hard not to interfere.”
“That must be physically painful for him.”
“Extremely.”
Cordelia spent the next week rebuilding practical things.
Paid servants.
Food.
Repairs.
A proper fire in Edmund’s room.
The first evening all the fireplaces burned, she walked through Thornwood and felt almost guilty.
Beatrice found her.
“You need not heat every room.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I can.”
Beatrice nodded.
That answer she understood.
Their relationship remained cautious.
Beatrice apologized without demanding forgiveness.
Cordelia accepted without pretending the past had vanished.
It was more honest than love had ever been between them.
Then Julian stopped visiting.
One day.
Three.
Five.
Cordelia became irritated.
Then more irritated because she had no right to be.
On the sixth day, Celeste arrived.
“Julian is leaving.”
Cordelia stared.
“Where?”
“London first. Then France.”
“Why?”
“He believes you need freedom from his influence.”
Cordelia’s anger ignited instantly.
“Did he ask me?”
Celeste smiled.
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“He is improving slowly.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Cordelia grabbed her cloak.
Celeste laughed.
“I hoped you would do that.”
Cordelia rode to Ravensworth.
Julian stood in the entrance hall directing trunks.
He froze when she entered.
“Cordelia.”
“You are leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought—”
“That is already a poor beginning.”
He almost smiled.
“You have your property. Edmund is safe. Vale will stand trial. You said you needed to understand who you were when nobody controlled your choices.”
“Yes.”
“I thought my absence might help.”
“You thought.”
“Yes.”
“Without asking.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“I see the pattern.”
“Do you?”
“I was attempting not to interfere.”
“You are interfering with remarkable dedication.”
He looked at her helplessly.
“What do you want me to do?”
Cordelia stopped.
There.
The question she had wanted from Beatrice.
From Vale.
From Julian.
From the world.
What do you want?
Cordelia breathed.
“I want you to stay.”
Julian became perfectly still.
“Why?”
“Do not make me perform all the difficult work.”
“I need to hear it.”
Cordelia walked closer.
“I miss you.”
His expression softened.
“I miss arguing with you.”
“Understandable.”
“I miss your irritating confidence.”
“Less understandable.”
“I miss the way Edmund waits for your visits.”
Julian waited.
Cordelia’s courage nearly failed.
“And I miss the way I feel when you look at me.”
“How do you feel?”
“Chosen.”
Julian’s eyes closed briefly.
Cordelia continued.
“But I do not want to be protected from life. I want someone who stands beside me while I live it.”
Julian whispered, “I can try.”
“I know.”
“Will trying be enough?”
“For now.”
He stepped closer.
“May I kiss you?”
Cordelia smiled.
“Yes.”
He kissed her beneath the chandelier while servants pretended not to watch.
When they separated, Julian said, “I canceled France.”
“You had better.”
“Still London?”
“Only if you behave.”
“Impossible standards.”
Cordelia laughed.
For the first time, their future seemed possible.
Then Beatrice’s carriage arrived at terrifying speed.
She entered Ravensworth pale and breathless.
“Vale escaped.”
The happiness vanished.
“How?”
“Transport accident.”
Julian immediately called for guards.
Beatrice looked at Cordelia.
“There is more.”
“What?”
“He sent a message.”
Beatrice handed her a card.
May you like
Three words had been written across it.
THORNWOOD BURNS TONIGHT.
