Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
At five o’clock in the morning, Miss Cordelia Ashcombe woke to the faint sound of rain pattering against her bedroom windows. The world beyond her curtains remained shrouded in darkness, but Cordelia had never been one to linger in bed. At twenty-one, she had been taught that a respectable young lady ought to be punctual, obedient, and agreeable, regardless of her private inclinations.
She dressed in a pale blue gown, fastened her gloves, and carefully arranged her chestnut hair before descending the grand staircase. The Ashcombe residence was still asleep, save for the servants who had begun their morning duties.
Margaret, one of the household maids, looked up from a silver tray as Cordelia entered the hall. A knowing wink crossed her face.
“Awake before the birds again, Miss Cordelia?”
Cordelia offered her a gentle smile. “Good morning, Margaret. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough, miss.” Margaret raised her eyebrows, eyeing Cordelia’s already immaculate appearance. “Though I daresay you have been awake longer than I.”
Cordelia merely smiled and continued towards the entrance hall, where she intended to wait for her father.
She had been waiting for nearly three hours when Sir Edmund Ashcombe finally emerged from his study.
“Cordelia!” he barked, causing her to straighten immediately. “Have you been standing there all morning?”
“Yes, Father. I wished to speak with you before breakfast.”
He looked her over with an expression of profound displeasure, his gaze lingering upon her gown.
“And you thought that was suitable attire? Good heavens, girl, must I remind you that you are an Ashcombe? One would scarcely know it from the way you present yourself.”
Cordelia lowered her eyes. “I beg your pardon, Father. I shall endeavour to do better.”
“Do better?” He gave a humourless scoff. “You have been endeavouring to do better for years, and yet here you are, twenty-one years of age, unmarried, and still waiting for someone to find you desirable.”
Her fingers tightened around one another.
“I have received invitations to several gatherings, Father. I thought perhaps—”
“You thought incorrectly.”
The words struck harder than she wished to admit. Cordelia swallowed her disappointment, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her distressed.
“Your wedding to Lord William Fairfax shall take place before the month is out,” Sir Edmund continued. “He is a respectable man of considerable means. You ought to consider yourself fortunate that he has agreed to take you.”
Cordelia’s heart sank. Lord William Fairfax was sixty-three years old, a man old enough to have been her grandfather. Yet her father spoke of the arrangement as though he were granting her the greatest privilege imaginable.
“Of course, Father,” she whispered.
“See that you remember your place. I will not have you embarrassing this family.”
With that, he dismissed her.
