Page 102 of His Unwanted Duchess

“The last conversation we had was not a pleasant one.”

“No,” Cornelia acknowledged, looking a little uneasy. “May I sit?”

“No.”

Cornelia narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but she held her tongue. There was a taut moment of silence between the two women.

Cornelia dropped her gaze first. “I am not with child,” she said in a rush. “I… I lied to you.”

Beatrice bit her lip. “Stephen said that you lied. I didn’t exactly believe him. After all, you’re so beautiful, and the two of you do have a connection.”

Cornelia was quiet for a moment.

“Stephen and I are somewhat similar,” she said, eventually. “I believe that is why we got on so well, at the start. We are both cold and rational. I am not sure there was anything more than that between us. I don’t mean to say that he was cruel, or harsh, or even that I was unhappy. On the contrary. I imagine you know by now who my brother is. Half-brother, I mean.”

Beatrice swallowed. “Yes. The Marquess of Hampton. The man I was meant to marry.”

Cornelia nodded. She slid down into a seat, and so did Beatrice, not bothering to remind her that she had not been invited to sit.It didn’t seem to matter much. Any anger between the women, if there had ever been any, was gone.

“I love my brother,” Cornelia said. “He’s a fool, and he makes the same mistakes our father did, but I love him. I did not agree with how he managed that business with Mary—poor girl. But then, I did not force him to do right by her, so I suppose I am a little culpable as well.”

“I don’t blame you for what the Marquess did. But you might blame me for how our wedding ended. I asked Stephen to intervene.”

“He said as much. It’s the sort of thing he would do. I wanted revenge, I won’t deny it. When I learned that you were marrying Stephen, I—” Cornelia broke off, shaking her head. “I never imagined myself marrying him, but neither did I imaginehimmarrying anyone at all. I did not love him, I will be frank with you there. But to be a duchess… Well, it is alluring. My climb to the top of Society would be complete, regardless of my birth. It angered me to know that you, a woman I regarded as lesser than me, were going to be a duchess. Not me.”

There was a brief silence before Beatrice cleared her throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

Cornelia met her eyes. “I suppose I want you to understand. I think you deserve a little honesty. You have been humiliated and laughed at, and now I suspect your heart is broken. Stephen’s absence tonight has not gone unnoticed.”

Beatrice cleared her throat and looked away. “Yes, I thought as much.”

“My brother has left London,” Cornelia said, her tone changing a little. “I do not think he will return. I have a patron here in London—Lord Everard—so I think I am going to stay. I require his patronage for my shows, you see. I am rich enough, but if I want to remain in Society, I require patrons. Perhaps if my father had acknowledged me, I would not have had to live in such a way. But he was married before he met my mother, so I must bear the blame. She was an actress, though, so I doubt they would have gotten married even if he were available. But it does not matter. You will not hear from me again. We don’t move in the same circles, and I do not think that Stephen would like to see me again.”

Lord Everard, Beatrice recalled, was a doddery old baron in his early sixties, with a taste for good food, fine wine, and beautiful women. For the first time, she felt a pang of sympathy for Cornelia.

How unfair that a woman so clever, so beautiful, and so talented should be reliant on men in such a way.

“I see,” she murmured. “Thank you for your honesty.”

Cornelia smiled faintly. “You are most welcome. I wish I had acted differently, but we women do this often, don’t we? Turn on each other, rather than on the men between us. For what it’s worth, I believe he is truly fond of you.”

Beatrice looked away. “I am not sure Stephen could ever be trulyfondof anyone.”

Cornelia tilted her head to the side. “Goodness. You think not? I believe otherwise, but time will tell. Time will certainly tell.”

Before Beatrice could say another word, the curtain to their box was pulled open, revealing Theodosia with a flute of champagne in each hand, and a box of chocolates jammed under her arm. She visibly flinched at the sight of Cornelia.

“What… Beatrice, what is going on?”

Cornelia rose smoothly. “I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Your Grace. Enjoy the show, won’t you?”

She didn’t wait for a response and glided past Theodosia and out into the hallway, immediately swallowed up by the crowds.

Theodosia blinked down at Beatrice. “Well, what on earth was that? Why was she here?”

“I… I think she just wanted to talk to me.”

“Talkto you? Whatever for?”

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