Cora (Virtue & Vice #4)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CORA

B ack at Gideon’s mansion—Cora still did not think of the place as home; it was his, not hers—Cora glared at the unwanted piano that mocked her from the corner of her sitting room. Annoyance flashed through her that it yet remained, though she knew, thanks to her brother’s renovations, that moving a piano was no easy feat.

Still. Almost a month of marriage should have been enough time to make arrangements to have it removed.

Titi barked and ran to the interconnecting door, scratching it and whining.

“I doubt he’s home, little fool,” she said affectionately. Poor dog, all wrapped around the axle over yet another tall, handsome, hard-hearted man. She pushed the door open. After all, Gideon hadn’t said anything about keeping Titi out of his room, only locking her out when they made love.

At the rate they were going, it would never happen. One of them had to break. She wanted him to touch her again, but she was determined not to ask. Gideon would only use it against her in some way down the line. He played the long game. She knew that about him, now.

She had given herself away at The House of Virtue today, taken off-guard by her own flare of jealousy.

Titi jumped onto his huge bed with its burgundy down blanket and curled into a tight ball against the pillow. She gave a forlorn sigh.

“Fine. Stay in there until he returns. Be sure to shed. A lot. It’s spring, after all. Get most of it on his pillow while you’re at it. Perhaps he’s allergic.”

She left the door open just enough for the dog to get back into her room if Titi so chose. Cora summoned Miss Marnie and changed into a dinner gown. Although she had spent most of her adult life in wealthy homes, she had rarely bothered to dress for dinner when she lived with her brothers. Only when they had company. One of the few advantages to being shunned socially was the ability to live one’s life as one chose.

Downstairs, Cora waited for Gideon to arrive home from his work, but as the hours passed, she finally ate alone. Again. At last, when the dessert plate had been cleared and she was out of reasons to avoid returning to her chambers where that stupid piano would haunt her wherever she turned, a gust of cold air from the hall told her that her husband had finally returned home.

“I wish to speak to you in private,” Cora said without preamble, surveying the way he moved. Been at his boxing club again, from the looks of things.

“Can it wait, Cora?”

Her questions could, but she could not. “No.”

“I have had a day.” He peeled off his jacket and draped it over the newel post, leaving him in his waistcoat and shirt. “I will eat in my study. Presumably, the lady of the house has gone ahead without me again.”

“It’s almost nine o’clock, Gideon.”

“I can read time.”

The hall clock chimed.

“If you want to discuss what you were doing at the House of Virtue today in front of Mr. Faux and Mrs. Lawton, then fine. We shall have this discussion in the hallway.”

He grumbled something and adjusted his sleeve garters. “We shall have this discussion after I have had my meal, Cora.”

She was being rather unreasonable, she realized with a sinking feeling. Her dismay deepened when he strode away, muttering, “All of the henpecking of a marriage and none of the benefits.”

Stung, Cora flounced back to her bedroom and changed into her nightdress. She threw herself into the bed and angrily tried to read, but no book could hold her attention under such circumstances.

He had every reason to avail himself of the services offered at the House of Virtue, she mused grimly.

Part of her remained shocked to her bones that her friend, the charming Countess Oreste, was even more scandalous than she had ever imagined.

The rest of her was curious.

Cora dropped her skull against the headboard with a dull thud. As much leniency as she was willing to grant the countess and her Flowers, Cora was not willing to grant it to her husband. He had not come up after his supper. She heaved a sigh and kicked back the blanket, shoved her arms into the sleeves of her wrapper, and stormed downstairs.

She needed to have a word with her husband about that blasted piano.

Whether it was convenient for him or not.

* * *

Gideon’s ribs ached whenever he bent over the billiard table to poke at a ball with his cue stick. He often played alone, choosing either stripes or solids and working around the obstacles of the unselected group, as a way to focus his mind and think.

A ghost fluttered at the periphery of his vision. Startled, Gideon’s cue glanced off a ball and rolled a few scant inches before weakly knocking a striped ball into the pocket.

“What were you doing at Countess Oreste’s today?” Cora demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

He cast her an irritated glare and bent over the table, shooting one ball into a pocket, then a second, before responding.

“I might ask the same of you.”

He propped the butt of his stick on the floor and waited.

“I was there because Honey was convinced there is nefarious activity taking place at the House of Virtue. She spends a great deal of time spying on them.”

“That girl needs to find a more fulfilling pastime.”

“That ‘girl’ is twenty-six years old.”

“Yet she still spies on her neighbors like an overindulged child. No wonder she isn’t married.”

“As if marriage is the highest calling of all women,” she scoffed.

“Please, inform me as to Miss Caldwell’s calling.”

She was silent for several seconds as she tried to frame her friend in the most positive possible light. “Honey cares greatly about the lives of others.”

He pointed his cue stick at her. “My mother has informed me that you intend to sponsor Miss Isabelle Kingston during her come-out?”

“Sponsor is too grand a word for it. Annalise thought I would be a familiar, kind face. Isabelle gets anxious in social situations.”

“However noble, taking another illegitimate young woman under your wing will only remind the world of your own parentage.”

“Charming of you to remind me how I am reviled for something I had no control over.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Gideon collected the balls and placed them carefully within the triangular cage. Cora looked on with interest. She was as bored as Honey.

This game, however, looked fun. If she learned the basics, she could practice while he was away working.

“Teach me,” she demanded, taking up a cue stick. “I want to learn how to play.”