Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Julian stood by the study window of his London townhouse, looking out at the bustling streets below. However, his thoughts were not with the city but with the arrangements for his impending departure to Whitestone Hall in Yorkshire.

His real home.

A place where he felt far safer and much less scrutinized. A place where he could be himself without the intense eyes of the ton upon him.

Oh, how he could not wait to be away from the ton .

Stacks of documents and correspondence cluttered his desk, each one requiring his attention before he could leave. But there was one letter that demanded more than just a signature or a brief response. It was the letter from Lord Henry Harrington acknowledging Julian's proposal for Cordelia's hand in marriage.

Julian had spent countless hours deliberating over that proposal. His initial encounter with Lady Cordelia at the masquerade ball had been brief but impactful. Her quiet grace and intelligence had drawn him in, making him see beyond the facade of polite society. He had not expected to be so captivated by her, nor did he anticipate how much he would think of her in the following weeks.

No other woman had even come close.

He reached for the letter again, scanning the earl's gracious acceptance of his proposal for courtship and the invitation to dinner at Harrington House. Julian experienced relief and apprehension. The thought of returning to Yorkshire with a bride was both comforting and daunting. Cordelia was a woman of substance, and he hoped their union would be strong and fulfilling.

However, the idea of a formal dinner, with all its pomp and scrutiny, was not appealing. Julian preferred a more intimate and sincere setting where he could speak with Cordelia without the pressures of a public affair. He needed to know if the connection he felt was mutual, and for that, he required privacy.

Julian called for his London-based secretary, Mr Blake, who entered the study with prompt efficiency, which Julian had come to rely on. "Blake, I need you to draft a response to the Earl of Harrington. Decline the dinner invitation but request a private meeting with Miss Cordelia Harrington. Suggest an appropriate setting, perhaps the garden or the parlour, where we can speak privately but within the bounds of propriety."

Blake nodded, taking note of Julian's instructions. "Very well, Your Grace. I will see to it immediately."

As Blake left to carry out the task, Julian returned to his preparations for the journey. He meticulously reviewed the plans for his departure, ensuring that everything at Whitestone Hall would be ready for his arrival. The household staff had been notified, and the necessary arrangements for the estate's upkeep were in place.

He almost smiled with excitement because he could not wait to be there at long last.

It had been a long spring and summer, and he could not wait for it to be over.

Despite his careful attention to these details, his thoughts kept drifting back to Cordelia. He remembered how she had looked at him during their dance, her eyes filled with a depth of emotion that had intrigued him. He had been brusque and quiet, but beneath his reserved exterior, he had felt a stir of something he had not experienced in a long time — a genuine connection.

The thought of seeing her again, and under such intense circumstances, was a little overwhelming.

Would she really wish to marry him and head off to a life of isolation in Yorkshire? He knew he was asking a lot. She would be leaving her family and everything she knew behind.

But since she did not seem so taken with London society herself, perhaps it would be a relief.

He could only hope that she had meant everything she said about not making appearances because she would have to see the real him eventually.

That terrified Julian. He could not stand people seeing the real him, but he also could not be so callous to wed a woman without her knowing the truth.

The truth about Whitestone Hall was more than just its seclusion; it was about the parts of Julian's life that he had kept hidden from the rest of the world. Whitestone Hall was a sanctuary not just from society but from the past that haunted him. It was a place where he could retreat into himself and find solace in the silence and solitude its remote location offered.

For some strange reason, one of Julian's favourite poems came to mind, causing a thick lump of emotion to ball in his throat.

"The heart asks pleasure first,

And then, excuse from pain;

And then, those little anodynes

That deaden suffering ..."

The sound of Blake's return pulled Julian from his reverie, thank goodness because he could feel himself sinking down a dejected path for a moment there.

"Your Grace, the letter is ready for your approval."

Julian took the letter and read it carefully. It conveyed his intentions clearly and respectfully, emphasizing his desire to speak with Cordelia privately. Satisfied, he signed it with a flourish and handed it back to Blake.

"Send it immediately," Julian instructed. "I want to ensure the Harringtons receive it as soon as possible."

Blake bowed and left to dispatch the letter. Julian watched him go, a sense of calm settling over him. The decision had been made, and now he could only wait for the response. He hoped Cordelia would understand his request and agree to meet him more privately.

Julian felt a glimmer of hope as he stood there, contemplating the future. Perhaps, if all went well, he would return to Whitestone Hall with more than just the responsibilities of his title. He might return with a partner, someone who could share the burdens and joys of his life. And in Cordelia, he sensed he might find just that.

***

The following day arrived with an unusual chill in the air, mirroring Julian's tension as he prepared to meet Lady Cordelia Harrington at long last. He was unaccustomed to revealing his true self, and the prospect filled him with a rare apprehension.

Julian prided himself on his composed demeanour, his ability to maintain a fa?ade of stoic detachment. But today, he knew he had to strip away those layers and expose the man beneath.

"Right," he muttered to the reflection in the mirror. "It is time."

With his chin jutted out and an air of false confidence shrouding him, he headed to the carriage, knowing he had a long journey ahead. Not just the trip to Cordelia's home, but the part afterwards.

Not that he needed to think about afterwards right now. He just needed to get there …

The garden at Harrington House was a surprisingly serene place, with neatly trimmed hedges and blooming flowers that added a touch of colour to the otherwise grey day.

Julian stood by the window of the small garden parlour, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the well-kept grounds. His thoughts raced inside his brain at the speed of light, but he did what he could to remain calm and collected on the outside.

The Harrington family had been very pleasant to him thus far. The earl especially had gone out of his way to make Julian feel welcome.

But that was not the person he needed to impress the most …

The door behind him creaked open, and he heard the soft rustle of a dress. He did not turn around, finding it easier to speak to the window than to the woman who he really needed to make like him.

His heart thundered against his ribcage while he waited for something, anything , to happen.

"Excuse me, Your Grace, you wanted to speak with me?" Cordelia's voice was gentle yet clear, cutting through the room's silence.

Julian took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Yes, Lady Harrington, thank you for coming," he began, his voice steady but devoid of warmth. He continued to gaze out the window, unable to face her directly. "I thought it best to discuss the realities of what our marriage would entail before we come to any arrangement."

"I see," she muttered curiously.

He could sense Cordelia's presence, feel the weight of her curiosity and apprehension, but he pressed on because he knew he had to. "If you agree to marry me, you will be well cared for. Whitestone Hall will be your home, and you will be free to move about as you please. You may manage the household, involve yourself in charitable endeavours, or pursue any interests you desire."

He paused, taking another breath before continuing, "However, I must be honest with you. I do not entertain guests frequently, nor do I enjoy large gatherings. My life is rather dull by most standards. I prefer solitude and quiet. I do not throw parties and seldom venture into society."

Julian finally turned to face Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, her expression a mix of curiosity and something he could not quite decipher. He softened his tone, attempting to convey sincerity.

"I have also spoken with your father about your family's financial situation. I understand that there are debts that need to be addressed. I intend to provide for your family as well. You need not worry about their well-being."

Cordelia stood quietly, absorbing his words. Julian felt a flicker of uncertainty. He had laid bare his intentions and the realities of life as his wife. Now, all he could do was wait for her response.

"Your Grace," Cordelia began, her voice steady despite the weight of the conversation, "I appreciate your honesty. It is a rare quality and one I value greatly. I must admit that the idea of a quiet life is not unappealing. I have never been one for grand parties or social obligations."

Julian felt a glimmer of hope at her words, but he kept his expression neutral. He had been given his chance to talk. Now, it was her turn to have the same freedom.

Cordelia continued, "I am willing to consider your proposal. However, I would like to know more about you. The man behind the title. You have told me what our life would be like, but I wish to understand you better. If we are to share our lives, I believe it is important for us truly to know one another."

Julian was taken aback by her forthrightness. It was rare for someone to speak to him so candidly, and he found it both refreshing and disconcerting.

"I understand," he replied, his voice softening. "In which case, there is one more thing I must tell you," he said, his voice steady but tinged with apprehension. "Something that may put you off marrying me."

Cordelia tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued but her gaze unwavering. "Go on, Your Grace."

Julian turned his back to her again, staring out the window as if the view could lend him the strength to continue. "Three years ago, there was a fire at Whitestone Hall. I tried to save my father, but … I failed. He died, and I was left with a reminder of that night."

He paused, feeling the weight of the memory settle heavily on his shoulders. It was always an agonizing memory that whipped the air right out of his lungs. But he knew he needed to continue.

"I was badly scarred in the fire. It is not something I show to many, but if we are to be married, you deserve to know."

With that, he turned back to face her, his heart pounding. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his face and brushed aside the dark trusses of hair that messily covered the right side of his face. The red and jagged scar ran from his temple down to his mouth, a constant reminder of his failure.

Cordelia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Julian felt a sharp pang of despair at her reaction, his worst fears seemingly confirmed. His heart sunk, and his stomach flip- flopped.

This was not what he wanted, but he should have known it would happen.

"I find society's judgements to be not only tiring but also shallow. True worth lies in one's character and actions, not in one's appearance."

Clearly, she did not mean what she said.

"I knew it," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I knew you would not want to marry me."

But before he could turn away, Cordelia stepped forward, her expression softening as she regained her composure. "No, Your Grace," she said firmly, her voice steady and filled with an unexpected resolve. "That is not what I think at all."

Julian searched her eyes for any hint of pity or revulsion, but all he saw was compassion and strength. "You do not have to say that to spare my feelings," he said quietly, his tone tinged with disbelief. "I understand. This is something that I have been dealing with for years."

"I am not sparing your feelings," she replied, taking another step closer. "I am telling you the truth. Your scars do not change my decision at all. If anything, they show your bravery and the depth of your character."

Julian felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. "You … accept my offer, despite this?"

Cordelia nodded, her gaze never wavering. "Yes, I do. I understand that life with you may not be what I had once envisioned, but I believe we can find happiness together. I respect your honesty and courage and am willing to face whatever challenges may come."

Julian let out a breath he had not realized he was holding, relief washing over him. He had not expected such acceptance, such grace in the face of his vulnerability. A lightness that he was not expecting overcame him.

"Thank you, Lady Cordelia," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise to do my best to be a good husband to you. And like I said before, your family will be well cared for. They will never have to worry again."

She smiled, a warm and genuine smile that reached her eyes, making his heart flutter violently. "And I will strive to be a good wife to you, Your Grace."

At that moment, Julian felt something shift within him. The walls he had built around his heart began to crack, allowing a glimmer of hope and connection to seep through. For the first time in years, he dared to believe that perhaps, despite everything, he could find happiness and companionship in this life.