Page 66 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
She trailed off delicately. Hester was impressed that she managed to pack a sorcerous double murder into a single word. “Oh yes. Of course.”
“It wouldn’t bother me,” Doom said. “I’m in love with Samuel, and I don’t care who knows it.” She hitched herself to the edge of the seat and gave Hester a firm, friendly look. Her expression and tone were perfect. Hester wondered how often it worked on people. Surely some of them could see those snake-scale eyes?
“It’s Cordelia I worry about.”
“Cordelia?” Hester’s puzzlement was genuine. “What about her?”
“Gossip,” said Doom. “She’s such a sensitive girl. If she were to overhear people talking cruelly about us, I fear it would quite crush her.”
Hester thought of Cordelia’s eyes when she had been made obedient, and took refuge in babbling. “She is very sensitive, it’s true. But such a clever girl. Why, she’s learning embroidery as fast as I can teach her! And so sweet. Why, I was saying to Imogene just the other day that if I had a daughter, I would be simply delighted if she were like Cordelia.”
Doom broke into the flow of words. “You understand, then, that I want to protect her. So a small wedding. No second cousins a dozen times removed. Why, I should be very happy to have only our friends here attend. I feel quite as close to Lady Strauss as if we had known each other for years, and I am certain that she feels the same.”
If you were on fire, Imogene would send for brandy to pour over you. “Oh, I’m sure you’re right. Dear Lady Strauss! We were at school together, you know.”
“Yes, she’s mentioned it. I wish that some of my school friends could come, but I fear we all fell quite out of touch.” Doom’s lips turned down and a line of sorrow formed between her eyebrows. Hester found herself grudgingly admiring the craftsmanship involved in the expression. “I sometimes think that I should have sent Cordelia to a girls’ school, but she is so sensitive, and you know how cruel girls can be when they sense weakness.”
It pained Hester to agree with Doom, but she nodded. “You’re not wrong there.”
Cordelia’s mother flung an arm across the back of the settee and turned her head aside. “It is part of why I accepted Lord Evermore’s offer for her,” she said. “I was so afraid of Cordelia’s season in town. Her beauty does not always shine in social settings. His offer seemed a godsend.”
“She can still have a little bit of a season. I promised Samuel I’d take her around a bit, just to acquire a little bit of polish. But there’s none better than Evermore.”
“Will he be good to her? He seems so kind, but you know him so much better than I do.”
“He’s as good a man as I’ve ever known,” said Hester stoutly. “And I’m not just saying that because he’s a friend of the family.”
“It seems a wonder he never married before.”
Hester shrugged uncomfortably. Does she know? Samuel might have told her that we were involved once. Is she twisting the knife deliberately, or genuinely seeking information? “You know how men are. They get to enjoy being bachelors and put things off and suddenly they’re pushing fifty and don’t have an heir. I’ve been nagging Evermore to get married for years now. He could have had his pick of young ladies for the past decade, too.” She leaned forward herself, feeling a sudden mischief take her, since it was obvious that Doom didn’t plan to kill her just this instant. “You’ll have to prepare yourself, too. Every marriage-minded mama in the city will be wishing you to the devil for having landed Evermore for your daughter.”
Evangeline pushed her hair back and laughed. Hester suspected that it was the first genuine laugh that she’d ever heard from the woman. She would have preferred if it had been a witchy cackle or a rising howl, instead of a perfectly normal, rather earthy laugh. “I look forward to it,” she said, and Hester knew that for once, Doom was speaking the exact truth.
For Cordelia, the days leading up to the wedding were mostly peaceful. Her mother had what she wanted and was focused entirely on the Squire. The only difficult stretches were when Evangeline remembered that her daughter existed and was engaged to Lord Evermore, whereupon she would sweep in and insist that the couple spend time together, carefully supervised by Evangeline herself.
This morning, she had decided that Cordelia needed to go out riding with Evermore. Cordelia bowed to the inevitable and put on her riding habit.
“That creature again?” Evangeline said, raising an eyebrow as Minnow was led to the mounting block. “You should take Falada.”
“I like Minnow,” Cordelia said quietly. “She’s very sweet.”
Her mother’s lips thinned, but Evermore emerged from the stable at that moment, so she turned to him with a laugh and said, “I trust that when she is in your care, you shall see her better mounted, my lord!”
Evermore smiled warmly. “The best horse is one that pleases the rider,” he said. “My master of horse shall certainly endeavor to find her one that pleases her as well.”
It had taken a week of such comments, but Cordelia had come to admire Evermore’s technique. His statements were agreeable, correct, and sounded as if they were promising a great deal more than they were. She wasn’t entirely certain if her mother was taken in by them, or if she simply didn’t want to argue and risk the engagement. “For there is nothing that puts a prospective husband off like a designing mother-in-law,” Evangeline had informed her daughter shortly after the engagement was announced. “So you shall tell him that I am easygoing and would not dream of interfering in his business. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mother.”
(“Well,” Hester had said later, when Cordelia reported this, “no one would accuse her of having a sense of irony, anyway.”)
Evermore and Cordelia rode out together, and yes, it probably looked absurd that she was on the short little pony and he was on a tall, elegant mare. Certainly it made conversation difficult, unless she wanted to crane her neck. She didn’t mind that much. She still did not quite know what to say to Evermore, unless they were discussing Evangeline’s sorcery, and that would hardly be wise in front of the groom.
“Holding up well?” Evermore asked, leaning down. “I know I’ve had to travel back to my estate regularly, but it seems like your mother can’t decide whether to throw us together or keep us as far apart as possible.”
“It’s because she expects me to say something to ruin the engagement,” Cordelia explained. “If you talk to me too much, you’ll probably realize that you don’t want to marry me.”
Evermore started to say something, stopped, started again, and then gave her a wry look. “I am caught between gallantry and reality.”
