Intolerable, page 14
They walked outside to meander around Grosvenor Square. After a few minutes, Prudence looked askance at Cassandra. “I hope you won’t think I’m being nosy, but I wondered if there is anything between you and Lord Wexford. Beyond a flirtation, I mean. And don’t try to say you don’t flirt with him. You both flirt with each other. I expect that from a man like him, but you don’t do that with anyone else.”
Cassandra’s pulse kicked up. “What do you mean ‘a man like him’?”
“He’s not exactly a rake, but he flirts with everyone. Surely you’ve noticed.”
She had, in fact, but she knew it was his nature to be charming and complimentary. He always sought to put people at ease or make them smile. “He’s just a naturally gregarious person.”
“I suppose.” Prudence sounded skeptical. “He does seem different with you, however.”
“Does he?” Cassandra’s insides heated with pleasure, and her step was suddenly lighter.
Prudence arched her brows. “I see you looking at each other. The frequency and…intensity gives the impression there is something between you.”
Frequency and intensity. Yes, that described their not-so-covert glances rather well. “You have always been incredibly observant.” Cassandra wasn’t surprised that she’d picked up on their mutual…interest. “Do you think others have noticed?”
“I think it’s becoming likely, which is why I bring it up now. I have tried not to say anything. If you want to tell me to mind my own affairs, I will.”
“Except that since you are my paid companion, I am your ‘affair,’ am I not?” Cassandra said with a smile.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to—or should—meddle.”
“I don’t feel as though you’re meddling. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Particularly if her and Ruark’s attraction was becoming obvious. Or at least heading toward obvious. They would need to be more careful.
That was assuming there would be any more flirtation. Perhaps last night’s interruption would put an end to whatever had been between them. She didn’t want that to be the case, just as she knew he wasn’t going to marry her. Not now anyway.
This would be the perfect opportunity to tell Prudence everything—about the incident at the Phoenix Club, their flirtation, and last night’s kisses. And Cassandra’s decision to wait for him. It would help to talk to someone, so that she could understand what she was feeling.
Cassandra’s breath caught, and she abruptly stopped walking. She was in love with him.
“Why did you stop? Is something the matter?” Prudence turned her head, her brow gently creased.
“Not at all.” Cassandra started walking once more, perhaps a bit too quickly at first, so she slowed.
After a moment Prudence asked, “Is there no hope for you and Wexford to marry?”
Not at present. “Not if my father has anything to say about it.”
“And does he?” Prudence’s question carried a sardonic edge.
“Not really. If I wanted to marry Wexford—and he wanted to marry me—I would do so even if it infuriated him and agitated Lucien. I still don’t understand his specific issue with Ru—Wexford.” Cassandra needed to be careful. Perhaps she should pretend to loathe him in public so as not to draw attention to their…flirtation.
“So you do want to wed him?” Prudence asked.
Very much. “He hasn’t asked, so it’s a moot question at the moment. We have a harmless flirtation, nothing more,” Cassandra said, hoping her tongue wouldn’t ignite from telling lies. She continued walking around the square, and Prudence fell in beside her.
“What of Glastonbury?”
Oh hell. What about Glastonbury? Cassandra winced inwardly. “He hasn’t called on me again, nor does he seem particularly interested.” There was nothing special between them, no current of attraction or sparks of magnetism. Not like there was between her and Ruark.
“Perhaps he isn’t serious about courting you,” Prudence suggested.
“That could very well be.” Cassandra would hope so, for she didn’t really want to have to refuse him. Her father would be displeased.
As their conversation turned to their social plans for the rest of the week, Ruark remained in the back of Cassandra’s mind. Hopefully, she would see him soon. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she loved him and that she would wait until he turned thirty.
A tendril of doubt curled through her. What if Ruark didn’t return her love? She’d wanted to wed someone who loved her—either now or would in the future. Ruark surely fit that description. Even if he didn’t love her now, the potential was definitely there. How could it not be given the connection between them?
Sabrina had just exited her carriage when they arrived back at Evesham House. “Good afternoon, Cassandra, Miss Lancaster.”
Prudence dipped a curtsey. “My lady.”
Sabrina’s gaze settled on Cassandra. “How fortuitous to meet you out here. Might we take a walk around the square?” It seemed clear—to Cassandra at least—that Sabrina didn’t want Prudence to accompany them. Less clear was the purpose for Sabrina’s call, but Cassandra could make a good guess.
“Certainly.” Cassandra turned to Prudence. “I’ll see you inside.”
With a nod, Prudence went into the house. Walking alongside her sister-in-law, Cassandra began a repeat of the circuit she’d just made with Prudence.
Looking askance at Cassandra, Sabrina smiled a bit nervously. “I asked if we could walk so that we wouldn’t be overheard in the house. I wanted to see how you were faring after last night’s…excitement.”
Her word choice was both amusing and accurate for it had been terribly exciting. And wonderful.
“I’m fine, thank you. I very much appreciate your discretion.” Cassandra made eye contact with Sabrina so she could convey the depth of her gratitude.
“Wexford didn’t take advantage, did he?” Sabrina gave Cassandra a gentle smile. “I have to ask, though I imagine you wouldn’t have allowed him to.”
Cassandra almost laughed. “Your confidence in me is most complimentary. He did not take advantage.”
“When does he plan to propose, and do you have a plan for breaking the news to your father and Lucien?”
Hesitating, Cassandra silently chastised herself for not anticipating the question. “Er, he doesn’t. At least not now.”
Surprise flashed in Sabrina’s gaze. “You’ve discussed it then?”
Cassandra clasped her hands, latticing her fingers together. “Not exactly.”
“I feel it is my responsibility to guide you, Cass. You must know that what happened is highly inappropriate. If anyone else had found you, the betrothal would already be confirmed.”
“I am aware of that.” She sent Sabrina another grateful look. “Thank you. I very much appreciate your discretion.”
“Was it a singular occurrence that will not be repeated? Or do you have a tendre for him?”
“I can’t say.” Wouldn’t say. In that moment, she decided she wasn’t going to discuss her feelings for Ruark with anyone but him. Not when there wouldn’t be a betrothal for some time. If he even wanted her.
Cassandra squeezed her hands together then let them drop to her sides. “It was a heated moment. I was hiding, and he came in… I don’t know how he knew about that door.”
“I see. So, it’s possible, if not likely, that you can pretend it never happened.” Sabrina’s features relaxed into a relieved smile. “That might be best.”
They’d already tried that tack with spectacularly poor results. Stifling a laugh, Cassandra swallowed, schooling her expression to one of contemplation. “Yes, that would be.”
But it simply wasn’t going to happen.
Chapter 12
Today’s training with Mort had gone better than yesterday when Ruark had been too distracted by thoughts of Cassandra, the dark cupboard at Aldington’s house that had surpassed the dark cupboard at the Phoenix Club as his favorite enclosed space, and the fact that he’d been horrifyingly close to finding himself in front of a vicar exchanging wedding vows. Still, he wasn’t performing at his best, and with the prizefight in less than a week, he needed to clear Cassandra from his mind.
They’d kissed again, and now it was time to move on. For her sake, especially. She was going to wed, and it wouldn’t be to him.
He paid the hack driver and went into his house, where he immediately realized there was some sort of chaos. His butler, Bartholomew, whom Ruark affectionately called Bart, came into the foyer looking slightly harried.
“Has my mother arrived?” Ruark asked as he removed his hat and gloves.
“Within the last hour. She did not agree with the arrangements you specified for the bedchamber assignments, so we are having an additional room made up for Miss Iona.”
“What was wrong with the arrangements?”
“Your sisters will not be sharing a room,” his mother answered as she swept into the foyer from the stairs. Though a few new strands of gray streaked back from her temples into her dark brown hair, she possessed the complexion of someone several years younger.
“Welcome to London, Mother.” Ruark went to buss her cheek.
Before he could back away, she cupped his face and held him tightly. “Just look at my gorgeous boy.” She frowned. “Where were you when we arrived?”
“I just came from boxing.” It was somewhat difficult to speak as she was smashing his face between her hands.
“Horrid sport, but your father would be thrilled. Is that why you do it?” She smiled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling as she massaged his cheeks, which jostled his head. “Of course it is.”
Thankfully, she let him go. Ruark stepped back and stretched his jaw, though he resisted the urge to smooth his face, as if she’d left his flesh in disarray. Because she pretty much had.
“I suppose I started because Da loved it so.” His father had been renowned for his skill in Ireland. “Then I grew to love it myself.”
“Let us adjourn to your drawing room or wherever. We’ve much to discuss.”
They did? “You’ve only just arrived. Surely you wish to rest or refresh yourself.”
“I can do that later. I’ve no time to waste on this errand. Come.” She turned and went back to the stairs, giving him no choice but to follow.
Errand? That made the trip sound rather purposeful. As he trailed her up the stairs, he asked, “Marrying Kat off is an errand?”
“Yes. I had to bring her here, didn’t I? That signifies as an errand.”
“Are there no marriageable gentlemen in Gloucestershire?”
She looked back at him, her eyes hooded, as she reached the landing but said nothing before continuing to the drawing room. Once there, she waited until he came in then closed the doors.
“No one in Gloucestershire will have her,” she said darkly. “I need her wed with due haste before rumors of her behavior carry to London, and she becomes unmarriageable here too.”
Hell. “What happened?” Ruark didn’t bother going to sit down.
“Kathleen was seen kissing a gentleman—” His mother pressed her lips together then uttered a most unladylike curse. “Not a gentleman. The blackguard doesn’t deserve that description.”
“Who is he, and why isn’t he marrying her?” Ruark nearly choked on his own hypocrisy. He’d been caught kissing a young lady and wasn’t marrying her either. The difference was that their secret—their transgression—was safe. Apparently, Kat hadn’t been so lucky.
“A disgusting toad called Hickinbottom. He isn’t marrying Kathleen because he is already betrothed to Miss Hannah Dalton.”
“Miss Dalton wishes to go through with the wedding?”
“Her parents are insisting on it.” Mother rolled her eyes. “I believe Hickinbottom was trying to increase his fortunes. Kat’s dowry is twice Miss Dalton’s.”
“He sounds loathsome. Why on earth was Kat kissing this man?”
“You know your sister. She says it was an experiment.” His mother wore an exasperated expression. “I have since explained that her experiment will likely result in her spinsterhood.”
Ruark couldn’t imagine Kat would care. She loved scientific literature and collecting information, no matter how mundane. It made perfect sense to him that she would conduct kissing experiments. He was interested in knowing why and how many subjects she’d tested. This could have been so much worse.
He adopted his most benign tone and expression. “Has it occurred to you that it may be in everyone’s best interest if you allow Kat to become the spinster she probably longs to be?” She’d never shown the slightest inclination toward getting married, learning how to run a household, meeting potential suitors, or anything to do with the male species. Male human species, that was. She’d collected plenty of data about male cows, horses, turtles, cats, dogs, and any other species she could find. But he supposed that had now changed since she was conducting experiments on human males. He would have chuckled if his mother wasn’t present.
Many found Kat tedious, but Ruark was incredibly fond of her. In fact, he pondered how she’d induced this Hickinbottom fool to kiss her. Rather easily, he would guess. What gentleman of Hickinbottom’s apparent nature would refuse? She always planned her data collection and would have snared him with little effort. Ruark had never known her to come away empty-handed. It probably hadn’t hurt that she was remarkably pretty and, as Mother had mentioned, in possession of a nice dowry.
“I can’t imagine she’d be happy as a spinster,” his mother said, folding her arms across her chest. “And definitely not as a ruined spinster. She won’t be invited anywhere.”
“Does she even care about that?” Ruark asked gently. When his mother pursed her lips in response, he added, “While, you can’t imagine it, you must remember this is Kat’s life, not yours.” His mother had married at seventeen and again at twenty-four, not quite a year after the death of her first husband. Marriage, it seemed, was important to her.
“What will she do if she’s not married? How will she spend her life without children? Who will care for her?”
“She is fortunate to be the sister of an earl. I will care for her if she requires it. And her dowry should go to her if she doesn’t wed.”
“It does. When she’s twenty-five.”
“Then she’s well-positioned to make the choices that are best for her. I’ll speak with her.”
His mother uncrossed her arms as her brows pitched together. “Ruark! You can’t encourage her to be a spinster! It’s bad enough that you aren’t wed. Please tell me you’re at least courting someone.”
“I could, but I’d be lying.” He couldn’t help smirking because he could never seem to avoid teasing his mother whenever possible. She was always so dramatic.
“I do not understand your hesitation for marriage. I ask that you do not share it with your sister! Please.” The plea in her gaze was sharp and rather desperate.
Ruark laughed, hoping to bring some humor to her perspective. “It isn’t an illness I’m going to infect her with.”
“Now you’re just being silly. What I would like you to do is arrange for her to be invited wherever you can. She must find a husband quickly.”
It wasn’t that easy. Ruark instantly thought of Lucien and whether he could help. He also thought of the Phoenix Club, which was the one place he could take her. “My club has assemblies every Friday, and it’s become somewhat of a magnet for the Marriage Mart. You and Kat can come with me.”
“Wonderful.”
Ruark would speak with Kat before then. If she didn’t want to wed, he wouldn’t let their mother force her into it. He would also advise her against further kissing experiments, especially here in London where her ruin would be swift and vicious. Again, he felt the sting of hypocrisy.
“In the meantime,” his mother continued. “I am going to change my costume so we can go to Hyde Park for the fashionable hour.”
“Mother, it’s nearly five now. Don’t you need to rest after your journey?”
“I need to get your sister onto the Marriage Mart.” She started toward the door, pausing to look back at him over her shoulder. “Will you accompany us or not?”
He wiped his hand across his forehead, lightly massaging away the start of a headache. “I will.”
She turned fully toward him. “You should put yourself on the Marriage Mart too.”
“I’m not ready to wed.”
Exhaling, she didn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “Don’t take too long. Think of your father—you never know how much time you have.” Then she left the drawing room, leaving Ruark to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Or a series of them.
He thought of Freya, dark-haired and pale-eyed, with exquisite features that begged to be drawn or painted or sculpted—or all those things. Nine years had passed since he’d fancied himself in love with her. Had he actually been in love?
And what of his former mistress or the fair beauty he’d left in Ireland three years ago? Had he loved either of them? What were they doing now?
Suddenly he thought of Cassandra nine years on. What would she be doing? Would she be happy? Would he?
His shoulder twitched. He couldn’t keep torturing himself—or her. He needed to move on, to focus on the prizefight, to keep the vow he’d made. No matter the cost.
The day was overcast but thankfully free of rain as Cassandra walked into Hyde Park in the company of Sabrina and Prudence. While Sabrina wasn’t her sponsor anymore, she’d pledged to be available to Cassandra, something she’d reconfirmed at the end of their walk around Grosvenor Square the other day. She’d sent a note to Cassandra earlier inviting her to the park to promenade.
“Your walking dress is divine,” Cassandra said, eyeing her sister-in-law’s costume with a bit of envy. The cut was the absolute latest style and the dark teal color suited Sabrina perfectly. The best part, however, was the bonnet, which was like a men’s hat, though with a shorter top and a more curved brim, that sat at a jaunty angle over her brow. “It’s the hat, really. I need one.”
