She was fairly certain she hated that word.
She looked at the precise lines of Lord McKenzie’s face. She frowned, assessing his profile. Was there hidden depth to this man waiting under his cold surface? “So will I see you at my calling hours tomorrow?”
He slowed his pace, looking down at her. His cold, hard gaze nearly made her reg
ret her words. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
She swallowed a lump, had she just made a mistake? Her first instinct had been to avoid this man. Of course, that had been her first thought with Malicorn as well. Would her feelings about McKenzie change as well?
She considered asking the man next to her but held back. She could say one thing for certain. From the start, she’d been comfortable sharing herself with Chad. Deep down, she didn’t think she could do the same with this man. “Thank you for the dance.”
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He stopped in front of her family. “A pleasure, Lady Cordelia.”
She started to reply but he had already turned. With a shrug, she started toward her mother. Diana would likely want to stay, but so much had happened already, she wished to go home. Cordelia required quiet and solitude and perhaps the scratch of her pen to work through some of her feelings.
Because right now, they were a jumbled mess.
Chapter Seven
Malice watched as Cordelia left the room, heading for the foyer. He followed.
What had happened on the dance floor that made her leave?
Had McKenzie been awful to her? His gut clenched in anger. He’d knock the man flat on the floor. Then a new thought occurred to him. What if McKenzie hadn’t been awful at all; what if he’d been charming?
What if Cordelia had decided she’d preferred the other man’s company to his?
His collar felt tighter around his neck. He couldn’t blame her if she chose McKenzie for marriage. Malice had proposed, telling her she was adequate, or some such nonsense, he’d shared sordid details of his past, and he’d engaged in inappropriate behavior in the garden. Damnation, he was a plague on the woman.
He needed to speak with her again to apologize, or at least make certain that he hadn’t offended her. Or that McKenzie hadn’t been untoward. Maybe he needed to work harder to woo her. Or, demand she marry him after their kiss. If marriage was what he really wanted from her.
He scrubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts were spinning out of control. With startling clarity, he realized he sounded like a bloody woman.
But somehow, he couldn’t cease worrying. While he’d been worried about committing to a woman he’d felt some attachment to, he may have held her far enough away that some other man was going to snatch her right from his grasp.
Stepping outside, he watched Cordelia climb into her carriage. He hailed his own. He wasn’t certain why, he just wanted to see her again as though looking at her might make sense of his feelings.
He pulled up to their house in time to see Lady Winthrop climbing out the carriage, Cordelia just behind.
He watched them walk up to the door then enter. Climbing from his own vehicle, he stood on the cobblestone sidewalk, looking at the house. What now?
A single candle caught his notice in one of the windows above. Squinting, he caught sight of a nymph-like figure. Was that Cordelia? It certainly wasn’t her mother. Too small. It could be one of her sisters?
He considered his options. He could stare and risk a passerby seeing him. He could toss a pebble at the window, and potentially alert someone besides Cordelia he was here. Would anyone else even recognize him in the dark?
He doubted it very much. Looking about the front garden beds, he found several small rocks that were about the right size. He lobbed one up and hit the siding of the house. “Bullocks,” he muttered.
Picking up another, he tossed it again and hit the shutter next to the window. He was going to need more rocks.
Climbing back into the garden bed, he felt around with his hands, the dirt cool to the touch.
That’s when he heard the distinct sound of the sash sliding open. “Who goes there?”
He was bent over, nearly under the privet but he’d recognize Cordelia’s voice anywhere. “Corde? It’s me.”
She gasped. “Chad?”
Why did his name sound so good on her lips? “Yes, love. I need to talk with you.”