“Lucie only ever managed to memorize a few sentences,” Cordelia laughed. “She’s much better in English.” She cocked her head to the side. “So you aren’t looking so—so serious—because you had an awful evening?”
James gazed into the flames. They danced, moving gold inside his golden irises. “You told me before that Alastair kept your father’s condition from you during your childhood. That you never knew about it.”
“That’s true.”
“I suppose I never realized until tonight what a great effort that must have taken. It is not an easy thing to hide. And not an easy thing to confront someone about, if you fear they have—such an illness.”
“I have felt guilty since Alastair told me,” Cordelia said. “When I was young, I believed Alastair was jealous when he scowled to see me with my father, but I know now he only feared I would realize the truth, and be hurt.”
“I can see how your father can be very charming when he is drinking,” said James. “Like Matthew.”
Cordelia looked at him in surprise. “Matthew isn’t like my father. Matthew drinks to amuse himself and be amusing—my father drinks to sink deeper within himself. Matthew is not…” Ill, she wanted to say, but it seemed wrong to even bring the word that close to Matthew, to his situation. “Bitter,” she said instead.
“I sometimes wonder,” James said, “if we can ever quite understand other people.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All we can do is try, I suppose.”
“I am grateful to you,” she said. “For trying tonight.”
He smiled unexpectedly. Mischievously. “I know of a way you can repay me. One I would greatly appreciate.”
She indicated he should continue.
“I want you to read to me from The Beautiful Cordelia.”
“Oh, by the Angel, no. James, it’s not a real book. Lucie just wrote it to amuse me.”
“That’s why I want to hear it,” James said, with a disarming straightforwardness. “I want to know what she thinks makes you happy. Makes you laugh. I want to know more about you, Daisy.”
It was impossible to say no to that. Cordelia went and fetched the book; by the time she returned, James had pulled a lap rug onto the sofa and was half under it. He was shoeless, his tie gone, his hair a soft halo of dark flames.
Cordelia sat down beside him and opened the bound book Lucie had given her for her wedding. “I’m not going to start at the beginning,” she said. “It wouldn’t make any difference, and that was when I was thirteen—so it’s quite different now.”
She began to read.
“The brave princess Lucinda raced through the marble halls of the palace. ‘I must find Cordelia,’ she gasped. ‘I must save her.’
‘I believe the prince holds her even now, captive in his throne room!’ Sir Jethro exclaimed. ‘But Princess Lucinda, even though you are the most beautiful and wisest lady that I have ever met, surely you cannot fight your way through a hundred of his stoutest palace guards!’ The knight’s green eyes flashed. His straight black hair was disarranged, and his white shirt was entirely undone.
‘But I must!’ Lucinda cried.
‘Then I will fight at your side!’
Meanwhile, in the throne room, the beautiful Cordelia struggled against the terrible iron shackles chaining her to the floor.
‘I really do not see why you don’t want to marry me,’ said Prince Augustus in a sulky manner. ‘I would love you forever, and give you many jewels and a herd of stallions.’
‘I want none of those things,’ said the noble and beautiful Cordelia. ‘I only wish you to release my true love, Lord Byron Mandrake, from durance vile.’
‘Never!’ said Prince Augustus. ‘For he was an evil pirate. And before that, you were entangled with a highwayman, and before that, there was the band of smugglers.… Really, if you agreed to marry me, you would finally be making yourself respectable.’
‘I do not want to be respectable!’ cried Cordelia. ‘I only care for true love!’？”
Hardly daring to look, Cordelia glanced up at James—and realized he was laughing so hard he seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Many jewels,” he gasped, “and a herd—a herd of stallions.”
Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him.
“Do you want a herd of stallions?” he inquired, struggling to get his laughter under control.