When she had walked a sufficient distance, Cordelia took a deep breath and smiled. Turning her face to the sky, she closed her eyes, basking in the warm sunlight that caught the red in her hair, glittering like fire in the green field. This was no day to spend inside, plucking at needlework in the parlour. She spun around twice, giggling like a girl far younger than her thirteen years, recalling the ease at which she had slipped past both mother and governess and out into the country air. Were it not for her skirts and bustle, she would have skipped down the hill as she had done in younger days. Other than that, all was perfect.

A shout caught her attention. Cordelia opened her eyes, the sharp grays dancing across the field until she saw a kite bobbing toward her. The kite was a monstrous affair, large and boxy, but brightly painted in a way to make a child smile, and were its entrance not so odd, Cordelia would have done just that. Appearing over the hills behind it was a young man. She started a bit, blinking three times to make sure, looking around to assure herself that she was on her family's property still. The strange young man did not even seem to notice her as he ran, intent on catching the wayward kite.

Frozen to her spot, she watched the strange scene as it grew steadily closer. The kite zigzagged up the hill, and the man's long legs were pumping furiously. A few yards away from her, the man made a desperate lunge, flinging himself at the kite string and grasping it in his hand. Cordelia gasped, gathering her skirts to close the distance. "Are you hurt, sir?" she asked, politely.

The man jumped so hard he almost lost his tentative grip on the string. Looking up from the ground, he blushed furiously, his blue-green eyes wide."Oh, ah, I'm fine, thank you."

Cordelia crossed her arms and smiled. "Though if I were the one who had to clean your clothing, I would not let you be so for long. You're all green."

Rising slowly off the ground, the man brushed himself off with one hand while keeping a death grip on the twine with the other. He threw his head back and laughed, hard and deep throated. "I never thought of it that way. I was only concerned with getting my…uncle's kite back to him." Carefully and deftly, he began balling the twine up in slender hands, reeling the kite in. "And I do apologize for my trespass, Miss. I fear my uncle's property is full of trees."

For a moment, Cordelia studied the man. Though his sandy hair was unruly from the run and his clothing was, indeed, covered in offending stains, he was also neatly cut and fashionable, and some years older than herself. She felt a strange, small flutter behind her corset. "I was unaware Mr. Cavendish had any family."

The man shrugged and replied, vaguely. "He does like his seclusion, but I have been sent to stay with him." He smiled down at her. "I must wonder why a young lady is wondering about alone. " Pulling the kite to him, he took the center of it and held it to the ground.

Cordelia raised her chin, color blossoming in her cheeks. "I sneaked out."

Still smiling, he leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Then I have a confession to make. So did I."

Cordelia giggled. "Then I don't suppose I mind you trespassing for such a good cause."

The man took her hand dramatically and bowed over it. "Thank you for your generosity, Miss…"

"Milford. Cordelia Milford."

The man smiled warmly. "An honor and a pleasure, Miss Milford. I am Robert Nyles."

Robert thought the best plan would be to sneak back in through the kitchen, though there was no doubt his presence had been missed already. He lugged the troublesome kite in through the door, propping it up against the servants' table. When his hands were free of the contraption, he unfolded the starched, white piece of cloth he had balled up in his fist. With a little pang of guilt, he studied the delicate handkerchief. It was adorned with little, neatly stitched morning glories and a flowing 'CM' in one corner. Cordelia Milford. By a bit of slight of hand, he had whisked the item from the delightful little girl's sleeve. He did hope she did not miss it before he could find time to return it to her. With a faint smile, he decided to thank his friend, Jack, for teaching him that little trick when he saw him next.

As he stood in thought, the ancient housekeeper waddled into the kitchen and peered up at Robert with a frown. "Mr. Cavendish is near in a state of apoplexy." She looked him up and down. "And what have you done with yourself?"

Lazily, Robert leaned in the doorframe to the dining room, flashing a mouthful of white, straight teeth. "Only having a bit of fun, Corinne.Surely, you cannot blame a young man for that. Besides, I had to prove to myself again that there was more beauty in the world other than you, though I say it's not a fair match."

Corinne snorted and rolled her eyes. Shaking her head, she moved on, muttering, "Incorrigible." Robert watched her mirthfully.

"Nyles! There you are, boy!"

The loud, deep voice shot up Robert's spine like a lightning bolt, and he stood very straight. Turning slowly, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart he tucked the handkerchief back into his fist. With a slight bow, he muttered, "Master Cavendish."

The little, wrinkled man peered at Robert from under his tufts of white eyebrows. "Shirking your studies, boy?"

Robert shifted his feet. "Just taking a small rest from them, sir."

The old man grunted then turned to shuffle deeper into the house with an absent beckoning motion toward Robert. "You should have asked."

Following with his head bowed, Robert spoke softly. "And you would not have granted."

Cavendish spun around with suprising deftness. "Why should I, after what you and that Anniston boy pulled? You're lucky the Order didn't throw you out on your ear! Do keep in mind why you were sent here, Nyles, and stay out of trouble."

Robert sighed. "It was only a small brawl."

"So you say. What you won't say is who slung the fireball." Cavendish turned and shuffled on. " I still say it was Anniston. Bloody troublemaker he is, and a bad influence."

Unconsciously, Robert began playing with the handkerchief he had all but forgotten about. Though he hated hearing Jack's name slandered (if correctly in the case of the fireball), Robert stayed quiet. He followed the bobbing white head though the sitting room, into the hidden door behind the bookcase, and down the stairs.

After a moment, without turning, the old man asked, "And what is that you're playing with?"

Robert winced, glancing at the bit of embroidered cloth in his hand. "Oh, nothing. I met one of the neighbors while I was out, and she dropped this." He kept his voice as light as possible.

Stopping at the edge of the permanent circle etched into the basement floor, Cavendish twirled around again and roared, "I have spent years conspiring ways for the neighbors to leave me alone so they will not askquestions, and you, in the space of an afternoon.." The old man's face turned beet red, making his fringe of white hair stand out horribly.

Rolling his eyes, Robert sighed harshly. "It reflects nothing on you, Master, though they may think you have a nephew now, that's all. Besides, what harm is there in befriending a little girl? I have no one here, and you cannot honestly expect me to spend the whole time I'm here indoors, can you?"

Cavendish closed the distance, poking a stiff finger into Robert's chest, fixing him with a piercing gaze. "You are a magus, Nyles, not just any man."

Pursing his lips, Robert nodded. "Yes, but that does not mean I have to be a hermit. I still don't see the harm in this."

Frowning, Cavendish said, sagely, poking the finger into Robert's chest with each word, "The problem with little girls is they grow to be women, and that Milford girl will be the worst sort, headstrong and pretty. "

Robert must have looked a little surprised. "What, boy, you think that because I choose to spend my life in seclusion, I don't know who and what's around me?"

"Ah, of course not, Master Cavendish. Could you at the very least let me return the young lady's property?"

After a moment, Cavendish answered, "Very well. I suppose there's no harm in that."

"Freethought has always been the best friend woman had…" --Susan H. Wixon

The sun glowed brilliant orange on the horizon. Cordelia pulled her paisley shawl around her against the coming chill, strolling slowly beside her friend. For the moment, the two had found a comfortable pause in the conversation, something about how the study of Nature would teach more about God than the bondage of the Church. She grinned up at him, relishing the delightfully inappropriate subjects they always talked of. "Mr. Nyles, do you suggest I stay home from the chapel, then?" She asked, at last.

Walking with his hands clasped behind him, Robert Nyles chuckled. "It depends, I suppose. What is worse for you, listening to some vicar's prattle or encouraging your parents' displeasure?" Idly, he plucked a rose from a neatly groomed bush, rolling the stem between thumb and forefinger.

Cordelia frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I don't have to live with the vicar."

Mr. Nyles let out that deep-throated laugh that never failed to send Cordelia's heart fluttering, eliciting a curious glance from her brother who had conveniently picked a bench nearby to read. Mr. Nyles presented her with the blossom. "A practical young lady, and intelligent, too."

Cordelia felt the heat rise to her face under the compliment, and she cast in demurely downward, making a show of sniffing at the rose. "Will you come again tomorrow?"

The laughter stopped and Mr. Nyles stayed silent for a long moment before answering. "Miss Milford, I have stayed with my uncle the summer long, and now I find I'm recalled home to my studies."

Stopping short, Cordelia gasped. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning." Mr. Nyles turned to regard her with a sad smile.

Cordelia's stomach lurched and she became short of breath. "Why did you not…I mean…" She swallowed. Falling back on etiquette, she nearly whispered. "Your company will be sorely missed."

Mr. Nyles sighed. "You should go to the city. You are wasted out in the country. At least in London, you could find like-minded people." A little color blossomed on his face. "That is, does your family keep a house in the city?"

Nodding numbly, Cordelia muttered. "We do, but never go. The city is not good for my mother's delicate constitution." Closing her eyes, she took a couple of breaths. "I am afraid I will be in the country for my entire life."

"I see. Married to some gentleman or another, I suppose."

Snapping her head up with a sudden thought, she stared at him, bright eyed.

"You will write, will you not?"

Keeping his hands clutched firmly behind him, he smiled. "I will write."

The only thing that kept Cordelia from throwing her arms around him was the watchful eye of her brother.

Robert had been returned for nearly two weeks, and been bored stupid every free moment he had, not that there were many. Hoisting the most recent musty old tome up under his arm, he made his way through the manor house that served as a school for young Hermetics and back to his room. He had almost managed to banish a pair of sparkling gray eyes from his mind.

Starting to open the door to his room, his hand paused on the doorknob. Something nagged at the back of Robert's mind. Taking a closer look at the door, he saw the strings of magics that criss-crossed it. With closer study, he noticed that they were set to go off when the door opened, causing a harmless, but loud popping noise. A grin split Robert's face. This could only mean one thing. Banishing the simple weavings with amuttered word, Robert threw open the door. "Jack!"

Jack Anniston lounged back in his chair of the desk the two had shared since boyhood, propping up his feet. "Damn. I had hoped you wouldn't remember." The lanky, dark haired man stood and vaulted over the desk, laughing.

"It hasn't been that long." Robert kept grinning, though slightly taken aback by the approximation of the Queen's English that rolled off his friend's tongue. "When did you arrive? And when did you stop talking like a gutter rat?" He asked, teasingly.

Jack shoved a lock of hair out of his green eyes. "Couple hours back." He pointed at the steamer trunk. "And I'm still a gutter rat. I'm just disguised, you overstuffed prig." He closed the distance between the two men and clapped Robert on the back.

"It is good to see you, old friend." Robert carelessly tossed the book into a nearby chair.

"Aye, that it is."

"We should get you settled." Robert knelt by the trunk and opened it, then on seeing the mess inside, closed it again. "On second thought, I'm not going in there."

Jack smirked. "Thought you knew better." Jack moved back to the desk. "Oh, by the by, you got a letter. Looks like it's from a lady."

Pushing himself off the ground, Robert tried to cover his surprise by straightening his suit. "Looks like? You didn't read it?" It wasn't possible, surely, that she could have written already.

Eyes going dramatically wide, Jack feigned shock. "I think I'm offended at your implications, Robert." He tossed the envelope to his friend. "No, I didn't. Thought it might be full of sweet words that would make me ill."

Robert turned the letter over in his hands before opening it. A light, neat hand had written his name across the front. Jack was right in that it looked a feminine hand. He ripped the letter open. "It's not like that, Jack. She's only a friend, and a young one at that." Casually, he scanned the letter, his eyes pulled toward the signature for confirmation.

Cordelia Louisa Milford. Robert couldn't help but smile.

"Roight, and I'm the bloody Queen, " Jack quipped, speech slipping momentarily. Robert looked up to his friend's lazy smirk and regarded him with a raised brow. "What?" Jack asked after a time.

"I was only thinking how well the black dress would suit you."

In response, a flame in a nearby oil lamp flared briefly, causing Robert to start, then laugh, though lord knew he would love to have the facility Jack had with such things.

Excerpts from the Letter Years:

October 5, 1887

Mr. Nyles,

…and so this letter is full of drivel because there has been little to

occupy my mind since your leaving. Mother refuses to discuss anything,

saying it is not polite. Therefore, I can only tell you that the weather

is fair, and my father and brother are well, as am I. I dearly hope you

are, too. And please, write soon, if you will forgive my forwardness in

requesting such.

Cordelia Louisa Milford

October 9, 1887

Miss Milford,

I am sorry to hear of the state of distress I have left you in. I am

almost ashamed to tell you that I am doing most well and have a great

number of studies to occupy my attention. I have taken the liberty of

collecting a few books and pamphlets that I will send along to you. They

should arrive shortly after my letter. I hope you find them interesting…

Robert Danhill Nyles

 

December 11, 1887

Dear Mr. Nyles,

And the Wolstencraft was indeed interesting, though I think she, and the

others you sent me would find it amusing that they are recommended by a

man….I have taken your suggestion and, after a lot of persuasion, am taking

lessons in Latin from my brother. I am uncertain how amused my parents

are, though….If I do not write again before, may your Christmas be joyful.

Cordelia Milford

April 21, 1888

Dear Miss Milford,

I cannot believe you read so quickly! Certainly, I will send you more

books, and no, it is not all that expensive. How would you like one

written entirely in Latin, to test your knowledge?

Your friend, Robert Nyles

November 11, 1888

Dear Robert,

I have to say I'm shocked at what I found in your last delivery…

Your friend, Cordelia Milford

 

November 24, 1888

My Dear Cordelia,

I must confess I had no idea that was in there. It's called a boudoir

novel, for obvious reasons. My good friend, Mr. Anniston, a grand

prankster, gained access to one of my deliveries. I have given him a stern

talking to. The good Lord knows I do not wish to offend you. Your letters

give me great joy.

Robert

January 23, 1889

My Dear Robert…Cordelia

May 5, 1889

Cordy,

..may have cause to visit my uncle again. I shall endeavor to call on

you if that is the case.

Robert

"I found in this new friend a woman emancipated from all faith in man-made creeds, from all fear of his denunciations."---Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Cordelia's back was starting to throb at the effort of sitting up and nodding in the appropriate places. Sipping idly at her tea, she watched the man sitting in the chair across form her prattle on. His third call, and he still had nothing to talk about but the weather and his pedigree. For the fifth time, she stifled a yawn, trying to catch her brother's eye, but he was buried in his paper. Finally, with a great sigh and a roll of her eyes, she set her tea down and opened her mouth.

"Tell me, Mr. Harris," she addressed the man across from her, "what do you look for in a wife?"

Mr. Harris blinked, stuttering after being cut off. "What do you mean, Miss Milford?"

Folding her hands in her lap, she raised her chin a notch and regarded him hawkishly. "I mean what I say. What qualities do you want in a wife?" Cordelia became aware of her brother peering over his paper.

Frowning thoughtfully, Mr. Harris started, "She must be an attractive woman, as you are.."

Cordelia cut him off. "Beauty fades, Mr. Harris, that is not an answer. Do not humor me or engage in idle flattery, because I find both abominable."

Mr. Harris began to turn a bit red and looked to the other man, who promptly slid back behind his paper wall, for support. Seeing that he would get none, Mr. Harris turned back, knitting his brows together. "I want what any man wants, I suppose. A wife who knows her duty to home, hearth, and husband. Who takes good care of the children. Who will greet me at the end of the work day with warmth and happiness and courtesy." He smiled, satisfied.

"I see." Cordelia arched an eyebrow, smiling. "And she should accept this?"

Looking puzzled, Mr. Harris answered, "Why not? I will take good care of y…her and see she wants for nothing."

Still smiling, Cordelia spoke smoothly. "Then my advice to you is, one, buy a dog. That should take care of all warm greetings and loyalty all in one package. Two, cut a hole in your mattress. That should take care of all your needs." The sound of crackling newsprint cut through the air as

Cordelia stood. "Good day, Mr. Harris."

Mr. Harris flew out of his chair. "Now see here!"

Calmly, though with knuckles white on the crumpled paper, Cordelia's brother interposed between. "I think my sister asked you to leave. Shall I escort you out?" Cordelia nearly hugged him.

Straightening his coat, Mr. Harris called up all the dignity he could and stormed out with a muttered, "That will not be necessary."

For a long moment, the two remaining in the room watched the door Harris had exited. Cordelia's face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. Lowering herself back to her setee, she quipped, "That went well."

Her brother came about slowly. "I didn't like Harris anyway." He went about trying to straighten the ruins of his paper. "Are you trying to drive me to an early grave?"

Busying her hands, she picked up her needlepoint. "Hum?"

"Trying to kill me with shock. I've heard some appalling things exit your mouth, but that…"

"Was only the truth. Did you hear what he said, Joseph?" She crossed her arms indignantly.

"What did you expect him to say? He only answered as just about any man would?" Joseph dropped back into his chair.

Cordelia laughed, threading a needle and feeling a bit puckish. "So how would you answer? And are you saying that just any man is good enough for your little sister?"

Joseph's eyes went wide and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Then, he started to chuckle. "Conversation with you is like walking through a jungle full of traps, and I'm the tiger that steps in every one."

Shaking his head, he went on. "I'm only concerned, dear. You know what Harris will be saying. You may have just chased away a number of suitors."

"If they are frightened by that, then they cannot live a life with me. I'd rather die a spinster than marry any like our Mr. Harris." Her voice was firm, though she felt a little tightness in her throat.

Joseph sighed and rose to come to her. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he said, softly, "I only want for your happiness, sister. If you are happiest living as an old maid writing pamphlets or what-not in the attic, I will be glad to have you there."

Cordelia smiled up warmly at her brother. "Thank you."

Robert walked slowly up the shallow steps to the front door, fiddling with the finely wrapped package in his hand. Stepping up under the shelter of the overhang over the door, he removed his hat, shaking off the snow. He had a strange dryness to his throat and a bit of queasiness. Taking a deep breath, he moved to knock. Before he could even pull back the knocker, the door opened and disgorged a rather irate looking gentleman. The man took one look at Robert and exclaimed, "Every story is true. The girl is…unnatural. Best leave, sir, if you want my advice." The strange man dramatically flipped his muffler over his mouth and strode off. Robert watched after the man for a moment, chuckling.

Turning back to the open door, he poked his head in. "Hello?"

Joseph Milford was already coming back to the door. "Oh, Mr. Nyles. Come in. If you've come for the party, you are awfully early."

Robert stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Is Co…party?"

Stepping forward, Joseph helped Robert with his coat. "Cordelia did not write you of it? We normally do not, her birthday being so close to the New Year and all, but Father thought that this would be a good year for one. Good thing the snow has held back."

Robert nodded absently, switching the present from one hand to the other while being relieved of his coat. "Perhaps she did mention something, I don't recall. Is she receiving visitors?"

Chuckling, the younger Mr. Milford hung up the coat, saying, "After the last, I'm not sure, thought I think she'd make an exception for you. Follow me."

Robert followed, walking past the grand stair and down a short hall to the parlour, his nerves giving him fits. At the entrance, he stayed well behind Joseph as the man called in, "There's someone here for you, dear."

An exasperated groan filtered out. "Tell them I have a headache. Better yet, tell them I'm resting for the party. I've had my fill of…callers…for the day." Her voice was clear, smooth, and crisp.

"Pity," Robert started, stepping into the room. "Then I shall have to take this lonely present and person back to London, I suppose."

There was a loud gasp and Cordelia stood and turned, falling immediately into the banter of old, as if it had not been three years since they last spoke face to face. "Oh, don't do that. You've left this lonely person long enough." She smiled brightly. "Hello, Robert."

But something had changed and Robert suddenly felt as if someone had hit him in the stomach. He tried desperately to keep his eyes on her face and not grazing the woman's form his friend had blossomed. "Ah, hello, Cordelia." He knew there were spots of color on his face, and he hoped that she'd take it for the cold. Walking closer to her, he held out the present like an offering to a goddess.

Cordelia took gift in hand and lowered herself onto a divan, patting the space next to her. "Please, sit, though I should be upset with you." She frowned.

Robert winced a little midway through sitting down. "Why is that?"

"You wrote in May that you might be coming, then not a word of it since." Cordelia began pulling at the bow on the gift.

"Ah, well, yes. I'm terribly sorry about that. There were some unexpected occurrences." Finding his eyes yet again in an inappropriateplace, he snapped them back to her face. "I wrote of the trip I took, yes?

That's where I got your gift." He watched her delicate fingers dig into the wrappings, figuring that safe enough. "It's not a book."

Glancing at him with a little smile, Cordelia opened the box. Shaking slightly, Robert found himself very dry in the mouth, waiting for her reaction. A gasp escaped Cordelia's lips as she pulled the necklace out. Dangling on its long chain, the large, faceted crystal teardrop caught the light, spilling out a rainbow. "It's beautiful. I shall have to wear it this evening. Right now, even." Pulling it on over her head, Cordelia played with it for a moment before letting it fall to its resting spot, right between her breasts. Robert had to look away. "You will stay for the party, won't you? It's bound to be dreadfully stiff and proper otherwise."

Robert swallowed. "Of course." For the next couple of hours, they spoke of everything. Robert could never recall what was said, as he sat through the whole thing in a daze. "When?" His mind questioned. "How long?" When Cordelia excused herself to rest, he felt a twinge of loss, staring after her, burning her image into his brain.

"Would you like to be shown to a room, Mr. Nyles?" Joseph, whose presence was quite forgotten, asked.

"Ah, yes."

Once again, Robert found himself following Joseph though the halls of the Milford estate, mind wandering. On the way up the stairs, Robert stumbled.

"Are you quite alright?" Joseph asked.

"No, er, yes. That is…" Before Robert could think, his tongue tumbled out, "I think I have fallen completely, totally and irrevocably in love with your sister."

"Thank God." Joseph muttered.

"Hum?"

"Nevermind." Joseph smiled a bit. "Well, you certainly have my permission. Speak to our father, if you will."

Robert nodded dumbly. He didn't sleep a wink all afternoon.

The sixteenth birthday of Cordelia Milford turned out to be more of a gala ball than simple party, though there were relatively few in attendance. Robert stood against the far wall, feeling remarkably underdressed for the event, watching the other men go by in their tails and the women in trained dresses. Sipping consciously at a glass of wine, he waited for the appearance of the only woman who mattered.

After a short time, Cordelia appeared, completely overshadowing the presence of Joseph, who escorted her in. She patted her brother's arm with a cream coloured glove, and immediately scooped up the train of her deep purple gown and hooked it around her wrist. The jeweled tiara in her hair sparkled in the light as much as his gift around her neck. Robert peeled himself off the wall and, with a lot of muttered excuses though the well-wishers, made his way to her.

"Brilliant jewels for a brilliant woman." He smiled, kissing the tips of her gloved fingers. The afternoon rest did do some good for his nerves.

Cordelia chuckled, eyes glinting merrily. "I'll take that with a thank you, for I know you mean it."

Robert grinned, feeling drunk, and it had nothing to do with the wine. "Do you still have a spot on your dance card, or shall I just watch?"

Making a show of studying her blank card, Cordelia answered, "Oh, I have a spot or two left. Perhaps one of the last, considering how long you waited to visit?"

"Only fair." Robert laughed.

Cordelia sighed. "Well, I should go fill this cursed thing, if only to give my mother one less cause to faint. I promise to talk to you as often as I can." Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. "Excuse me."

Unconsciously, he brought his hand up to touch the spot her lips had graced. For a long time, he stood frozen to his spot, a slow grin spreading on his face. When he moved again, he felt like he floated around the room.

The music started, singing violins and cellos. Robert danced politely with a couple of young women, listening to their flirtatious rambling with little attention. Always, he watched for Cordelia. She was not hard to find, dominating the room, though sometimes with a strained smile. Robert danced every reel, catching brief encounters with her, and reluctantly letting her go.

At a break, Robert went to the punch bowl for a drink and watched the room over the rim of his glass. A man entered, horribly late for the party, dressed impeccably with a charming smile. He looked a dandy to Robert.

"Douglas!" Cordelia called to the man as she went to him and kissed him on the cheek. Robert hated him immediately.

Seeking out Joseph, Robert circled the far walls, his eyes never leaving the pair. They talked excitedly together, Robert's ears occasionally catching a bit of Cordelia's chiming laughter. His stomach tightened.

Finding Joseph, Robert asked, without preamble, "Who is that man?"

Joseph tilted his head to the side. "Lord Abernathy? An old childhood friend of ours. Our families used to holiday at the seaside together."

"Lord?"

"Since his father passed two years ago. He's something of a rebel in the House of Lords. God knows they want him out." Joseph sipped his wine casually.

It felt as though Robert's tongue thickened in his mouth. "And his relationship with Cordelia?"

Regarding Robert with an arched brow, Joseph answered, "I don't know. She wrote him a letter in support of a proposal of his, oh, about a year ago, and they have been corresponding since. I do think he may ask to call on her." Shrugging with a little wink, Joseph continued, "Though I dare say, rebel or not, he'll get sent away with all the others."

Robert's stomach hit his feet and the bile rose in his throat with a punctuation of combined laughter from the pair across the room. In that moment, Robert decided something must be done.

Holding a gloved hand to her mouth, Cordelia giggled. "He didn't!"

Lord Abernathy, though Cordelia always thought of him as Douglas, nodded, laughing freely. "He did. Sat right down on it with a monstrous squishing noise. The man hasn't shown his face since. An awful way to get a victory, but a victory all the same." He gracefully scooped a glass off the tray of a passing servant, grinning winningly.

Cordelia raised her own glass, still giggling. "To victories."

"To victories." Douglas's glass shattered in his hand.

Jumping, Cordelia hurriedly set her own glass down. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, my, yes. I'm not cut, though I dare say there's a bit of a mess. Will you excuse me?" Douglas brushed at his ruined suit.

"Of course."

As soon as Douglas's back was turned, Cordelia felt someone take her by the shoulders and start steering her toward the balcony. She looked back once, then toward her 'kidnapper'. "Robert, what are you doing?" She hissed through her teeth.

"I have to talk to you." There was a desperate ring to his voice.

Cordelia kept the smile on her face as she was whisked out, door shutting behind them. "You've most likely just given my mother a fainting spell, something I had hoped to avoid. What is the meaning of this?!" she growled, the moment they were out of the way of prying ears.

Robert paced like an angry cat. "You absolutely cannot marry Lord Abernathy!"

"What are you talking about?" Cordelia balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips. "Have you gone completely mad?"

Running his hands thorough his sandy hair, Robert spun to face her. "Perhaps. I don't know. I just know you can't possibly be happy with that dandy!"

Opening her mouth to say something else but stopped. She stared incredulously at Robert for a long moment, anger fading with the rapid beating of her heart and that mad fluttering in her stomach that was always set off every time he was near. Could it be that Robert was jealous? Cordelia started to laugh. "I assure you, though I do not know why I should explain myself to you, that I have no intentions of becoming Lady Abernathy. Honestly, I pity the poor woman who does, though he is a good friend and an important political ally, I know he will marry only for appearances." Robert blinked dumbly at her, and Cordelia intentionally misread him. "What? I am not too young to start making such connections. I simply will not marry only for the sake of having a husband. I do not need one."

"Don't I feel the heel." Robert smiled weakly.

"Well said." Cordelia folded her hands in front of her and straightened, shaking her head slightly.

They stared at each other for a time. Cordelia swallowed several times as she watched Robert nibble at his lower lip. She could hardly credit that Robert might be feeling the same way she did right then, all jumbled up. In everything else, she felt so incredibly sure. The silence was finally broken.

"Would you marry me?" Robert asked, in a rush.

Cordelia had to take a step back to keep from sitting right down where she was. "Wh..what?" The rational woman no longer existed.

"Will you marry me?" He said again, slower, with body stiffened and eyes wide.

Clearing her throat a couple of times, she answered, lamely. "You are one of the scant few I'd consider."

Slumping, Robert asked, carefully, "So you'll consider?"

The breath Cordelia was not aware she was holding whooshed out. "I'll do more than consider, I'll accept. That is, if you stop acting the fool."

"Anything." Reaching out, Robert pulled her needily into his arms and started to ramble. "I don't know when it happened. I think I fell in love with your mind long ago, but then I saw you again this afternoon and something just felt..right."

Cordelia closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "Something about a kite," she muttered.

"I do love you, I know that now, and I hoped all day that there was some way that you could…

"Robert?" Cordelia opened her eyes again and gazed up at him.

"Hum?"

"Do be quiet." Then, she did something very inappropriate. Stretching her arm up and rising on her toes, she locked her fingers in his hair and kissed him. Feeling it all the way into her feet, she knew what he meant about something feeling right.

Reluctantly, Robert broke away, speaking breathlessly. "We should go tell your father."

"Now?"

Stepping away, he offered his arm. "Why not? Since when have either one of us lived by propriety."

Cordelia hooked her arm in his, grinning. "Good point."

Floating back into the room and toward her parents, Cordelia did not notice the stares of the gathering or the assorted whisperings. She would marry the man who gave her the tools to make herself. The man who'd never judged her or tried to keep her down. The man she loved. Captain and Mrs. Christopher Milford sat primly on their chairs, both blinking curiously at the new couple, both equally red in the face.

"Cordelia…" Mrs. Milford began.

Robert would have no delay, it seemed. "Captain Milford?"

"Yes?"

"Cordelia has just agreed to be my wife." Cordelia grinned at her parents.

Mrs. Milford fainted dead away.

(to be continued...)