Page 31 of Cora
“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 ribsached 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.”
