Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1 Posted on Sunday, 30 July 2000
"Perhaps we might be leaving soon, Mrs. Gibbons?"
The woman wearing a purple turban with green dyed ostrich feathers turned abruptly, her face a mask of shocked surprise. "You could not even be thinking it, Lady Cassandra!" she cried in hushed tones. "Why, they have not even started the dancing yet! It would be an insult!"
The young lady sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know, but I am quite tired of this. And I have a headache," she added for good measure.
"A headache, my foot!" the companion exclaimed, causing the other to smile in amusement. "You will stay for at least another hour. We have a great chance of finding you a husband tonight. This ball is one of the most exclusive. Why, Lord Pendelstone is quite scrupulous when sending out the invitations. These gentlemen you see are prime pickings. Not just anyone is suitable for the daughter of a duke."
Lady Cassandra pursed her lips in annoyance. "I know," she said at last in resignation. "But I haven't seen a single gentleman here that peaks my interest."
"Interest! Whatever would you need interest for, my dear? Why, the only thing we need is for them to show a little interest. Money and situation will take care of the rest."
Another sigh escaped Cassandra's lips, and the companion looked at her sharply. "We will have no more sighing out of you, young lady. You must look completely at ease in this situation, not bored."
Cassandra pasted a fake smile on her lips. "There, will that do?" she asked through clenched teeth.
The companion nodded. "Yes, of course. But don't look quite so happy to be here. Use a bit of that town bronze I know you have. After all, you could not have had a season already without picking up at least a bit of refinement."
The smile faded slowly from Cassandra's lips, and she nodded. Just then, a young gentleman approached and begged nervously for the honour of a dance with her. She smiled kindly at him, trying to put him at ease, and pencilled him in for the first set. He walked away with a smile on his face.
No sooner had the young man gone ten paces before the companion leaned over and whispered to Cassandra, "You might wish to promote that acquaintance. Young Lord Henry is the son of a marquise and could speak very highly of his bank accounts, let me tell you. He has connections in many high places, such as Almack's patronesses, and even holds a seat in Parliament, and..."
Cassandra had closed her ears to the first word the first word uttered, but was still rather relieved when the young, rich Lord Henry approached again to claim his dance. They went out to the dance floor and joined the set. Lord Henry was rather tense and uneasy as they began the dance, but with a few brilliant smiles and kind words, he stopped stuttering and even smiled hesitantly at Cassandra a few times.
When the dance had ended, Lord Henry offered his arm, and they walked back to where Mrs. Gibbons stood waiting. After a few civilities, Lord Henry bowed and walked away. Just then a disturbance was heard to start near the doorway of the ballroom. Cassandra turned her head and found that she had an excellent view of the door, where the gentleman that was causing such distress was now standing. He was tall and lithe, with excellent posture, and apparent good breeding. His features were fine, but in no way overly handsome. His clothes were cut in the current fashion, and extremely expensive. He seemed to be nothing more than the average wealthy gentleman. The gasps and murmurs that surrounded him, however, told a different story.
"Lady Cassandra, take no notice of him," Mrs. Gibbons hissed in her ear. "I do not know what possessed Lord Pendelstone to invite him. What an outrage, that he should even show his face here!"
"Who is he?" asked Cassandra, curious, but turning her head away again.
Mrs. Gibbons clucked. "That you should even ask. But I suppose it is as well that you know, so that you may avoid him in the future. His name is Henry Crawford. He caused quite a stir last Season, when he ran off with another man's wife. The scandal! It would have been bad enough had he had an affair with her, but to actually run away with her!" Mrs. Gibbons then realised to whom she was speaking, and cleared her throat, regaining her self-possession. "You will not speak to the gentleman, Lady Cassandra, though it pains me to actually refer to him as a gentleman. He has the morals of an animal."
Cassandra knew quite well that his morals were no better than half the gentleman in the ton, but decided it was best not to mention it. She turned her head again, and realised that he had been joined by a woman now, who stood surveying the room. She was also tall, though not overly so, and quite handsome. Her royal blue gown was very well made, and the sapphires around her throat winked in the candlelight. Her dark brown hair was tucked in a fancy coiffure that put those of many in the room to shame. She had the air of one who knew the world, so complete in self-possession and composure was she, despite the whispers that surrounded the pair.
Cassandra turned her head again as Mrs. Gibbons leaned over. "That young lady is Miss Mary Crawford. She, unlike her brother, is quite well refined, and is accepted into many homes, which is no doubt the reason she was able to procure an invitation for Mr. Crawford. She has a handsome dowry, and from what I hear, is quite well liked by the gentleman. Though, of course, she is no competition to you."
Another gentleman approached, and Cassandra was glad to have a diversion from her companion's gossip. She smiled at him and accepted his offer of a dance. But inwardly, she sighed. It was going to be a long evening.
Henry Crawford shook his head at his sister as he handed her out of the carriage. "I do not know why I accepted this invitation, Mary. I'll be a pariah."
Mary clucked in sympathy. "It is your own fault, you know. But really, I daresay they have all forgotten it by now, and after only a short hesitation, the ton will accept you into its folds again. After all, you are a gentleman. The rules are different for you."
"I suppose," Henry agreed reluctantly.
She snapped him on the wrist with her fan. "I have never known you to be so hesitant in your life, Henry. You ought to forget that Fanny Price. She did not deserve you. In fact, I have yet to meet the woman who does." Henry smiled roguishly at this, and Mary laughed. "That's my Henry. Now, let's hurry before they close the doors on us. We are rather late, you know. But still fashionable, I think."
Henry grinned, and offered his arm. They walked up the stairs to where the footmen were holding open the doors. Henry handed his hat, coat, and gloves to a footman, then walked up the staircase to the ballroom as Mary took off her wrapper. He stood in the doorway of the ballroom alone for a moment as everyone turned to look and whisper at each other. Mary came up beside him.
"Forgive me?" he murmured with a wry grin. "They're more likely to decapitate me."
Mary laughed slightly. "They wouldn't shed blood in a ballroom, at least, so you ought to be fine. Would ruin the floors, not to mention all the gowns. Come-I see our host and hostess over there."
They began to move in one direction, when through the crowd Henry caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. "Fanny?" he murmured incredulously, then began to push his way towards her. Mary stopped and turned when she felt her brother leave her side. "Henry!" she cried sharply, but he didn't hear her, so intent on his mindless purpose was he.
"Fanny!" he exclaimed when he was only a few feet away. But as the young lady turned towards him, a look of surprise on her face, Henry stopped stock-still where he was. The people around him gasped and murmured to each other hastily. He felt his face flush as he realised that this young lady opposite him was definitely not Fanny. Though her figure and long, graceful neck were nearly the same, and her dark brown hair was the same precise shade, her features were quite different, though by no means unattractive. In point of fact, she was nearly breathtaking in her vibrant beauty. But at this moment, she was staring at him in incredulity, her lips curved in deprecating amusement.
"I beg your pardon," huffed the rather plump, rather offended woman in purple as she stepped closer to her charge. "I do not know who you think you are, Sir, but this is Lady Cassandra Falkland you are addressing, and we are in the middle of a ballroom."
"I am so sorry," Henry replied quickly. "I most humbly beg your pardon. I had thought you were someone else."
He then bowed and made his way back through the crowd to where Mary was standing, her mouth open in shock. She quickly regained her composure, though, and took his arm in hers, leading him purposefully off in the direction of their host. "What were you doing?" she hissed.
"I thought she was Fanny," he replied in an off-hand manner.
"You ought to have known, Henry, that Fanny would never attend such an affair. Why, she's tucked away in a parsonage with little old Edmund. She's not even close to London, much less this ball. And for Heaven's sake, Henry; she's married!"
He shrugged in response. In truth, he had no idea why he had acted as he did. It was a spur of the moment, instinctual sort of thing. He wasn't thinking logically; if he had been, it never would have happened. As it was, he would simply have to make the best of things. And try to act at least a little bit like his old self.
He drudged up a charming smile as they greeted Lord and Lady Pendelstone. "It is, indeed, an honour, my lord. And my lady, a pleasure," he grinned suavely, and the older woman blushed. At least, he reflected wryly, he wasn't losing all of his touch.
"And an honour to meet you, Mr. Crawford," Lord Pendelstone said, though perhaps a bit haughtily. "I knew your uncle quite well. Are you enjoying the evening so far?" he asked, leveling a sharp gaze at Henry, who only smiled and replied, "Of course. Though I have found that a year from London society is too much...I don't seem to know anyone anymore."
Lord Pendelstone's expression lightened somewhat. "Well then, tonight is an excellent opportunity to renew old acquaintances, as well as make new." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "And I would suggest repairing your slip with Lady Cassandra? I could have Beatrice introduce you. Properly, this time," he added, a bit of sarcasm creeping into his tone.
Henry nodded. "That would be perfect, my lord. And," he added with a touch of humility, "Thank you."
The older man shook his head. "I wouldn't do it but for an old friend."
"Well then," Henry replied, "thank Heavens for old friends."
Cassandra smiled to herself again as she watched the tall gentleman bow to Lady Pendelstone and murmur something, which made her blush like a schoolgirl. This was a feat, indeed, she mused with humour, as the viscountess was over fifty. But not immune to charm, apparently.
Mrs. Gibbons was still murmuring words against the man who had seen fit to address Lady Cassandra in such a manner. Cassandra, on the other hand, had found it extremely amusing to be addressed in such a manner. She had seen the warmth in his eyes, just as she turned around. Then the shock that had filled its place, only to be replaced again by something akin to admiration.
Lust. What a powerful emotion. Cassandra had always wondered why men were so susceptible to it. It seemed their whole lives around it. And of course, it was a ruling emotion when it came to selecting a wife, she knew. That, and money. When one had both the looks to inspire lust, and the money to back up that appearance, one was well on one's way to being settled handsomely. On the other hand, it also left one open to nearly anyone's attentions.
Most often, those attentions were not wanted. Cassandra had been subjected to the usual number of stolen kisses, she was sure. Perhaps a few more-but who was counting? The best thing to do in such a situation was to suffer, then find a convenient fountain, or a vulnerable body part to knee or step on. Slapping the offender was often amusing, but so cliché. No, it was best to handle each offence with originality-it ensured that the reprobate would not come back for more.
Cassandra felt the evil smile on her face even before her companion had a chance to comment on it, and quickly erased it. Apparently she was not quick enough for it to be noticed by anyone else, though.
"Thinking of ways to execute your prattling companion, Lady Cassandra?" a familiar male voice murmured in her ear.
She looked over her shoulder. "Please refrain from the intimacy of whispering, Lord Cullen," she hissed in return, all the while trying to keep the smile off her face.
Jasper Stillman, the Earl of Cullen laughed, stepping forward to stand at her side. He spoke louder now, though still in a low aside: "So proper, Lady Cassandra. It would almost make one forget that you were galloping by the Seine this morning, your groom desperately trying to keep up."
She turned, her eyes wide. "Who said that? Who-"
"I did," Lord Cullen said with a grin. "You mustn't think that London is so completely devoid of people who wake before seven in the morning. I often take my ride at six o'clock."
She blushed, turning her head to watch the musicians ready themselves for the next song. "Go ahead," she challenged him, though continuing in a low voice. "Tell everyone what you saw. I would not care in the least if the whole of the ton believed me to be a veritable hoyden."
"Of course you would care. I think I may keep this as blackmail material."
"You wouldn't," Cassandra said in a deceptively light tone. "After all, I know things about you that perhaps you might wish to keep quiet. Like, perhaps, how you set the neighbour's barn afire when you were twelve, trying to smoke a cigar you had stolen from your father's study." He flushed accordingly, and she laughed.
"I hadn't realised you knew that," he said in a voice choked by laughter.
She smiled. "Of course I did. After all, I was with you. But no one would believe that."
He rolled his eyes. "I had completely forgotten. I had thought it was Fredrick that was with me."
"Well," she said with a considering expression, "I think he was, rather, for a time. But of course, Fredrick always knew that if he were caught, there would be no end to it. At least not from his father," she said quietly.
The muscle in Jasper's jaw tightened, and Cassandra laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Jasper. I ought never to have mentioned him. I didn't think."
A hissing breath escaped his lips before he visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry, Cassie. It's just, when I think of how...I just..." He looked over at her in wordless supplication.
She understood exactly. "There was nothing we could do, Jasper."
"I know," he replied with a helpless shrug. "But it still makes me upset." Making a visible effort, he tried to change the subject to a lighter one. "So, how many hearts have you broken tonight?"
Cassandra laughed. "Oh, I don't know," she said with a cheeky grin, "I lost count at fifty."
"And do you have at least one dance open for me?"
She looked at her dance card. "It appears there are three open. One is a waltz..."
He laughed. "I guess I shall take that one, then. You're obviously imploring me to save you from someone less worthy of the position. Someone like..." he scanned the crowd, then grinned. "Someone like Lord Harte?"
Cassandra followed his gaze to where a portly old gentleman strolled the outskirts of the crowd. Every so often he stopped and leered at a young lady-nearly always a young lady with ample cleavage. "That isn't funny, Jasper. He's been one of my suitors these past few weeks, you know. Mrs. Gibbons declares him 'a most excellent match,'" she quoted, mimicking the older woman's high tones.
Jasper laughed, glancing over at the woman, who was speaking animatedly with another matron. "She would think a pig was an excellent match, as long as it was rich and had a large fortune."
"She, in all probability, would." Cassandra agreed with a wry grin, which faded quickly. "My father, too."
Jasper's gaze narrowed as he turned to look at Cassandra. "Now what is he up to?"
She shook her head slightly. "It's nothing, Jasper. Don't worry about it."
"I will worry about it, Cassie," he replied a trifle sharply. "I won't let him trod all over you."
"He hasn't done anything yet, Jasper," Cassandra said with a small sigh. "I'm not going to worry until that time. He's simply concerned that I won't marry, that I won't carry on the name. If I don't provide an heir, the dukedom goes to a third cousin."
"Third cousin?" Jasper repeated blankly. "I thought your second cousin was going o inherit-Henry Fuller, or whatever his name was."
Cassandra shook her head. "You didn't hear? He died in a carriage accident just four months ago. Father is worried. For the line to pass so far from the main branch...he won't stand for it."
"So he's pressuring you?"
She sighed. "I suppose one could say he is. But it doesn't bother me in the least. I know how to handle him."
Jasper accepted this with a nod. At this moment, another gentleman approached to claim his dance, so the two were forced to part company. Lord Cullen, with a bow, went in search of his own partner, while Cassandra was taken away by hers. And from across the room another gentleman watched, trying to figure out exactly what kind of challenge it was that Lady Cassandra Falkland presented.
Chapter 2 Posted on Wednesday, 2 August 2000
Cassandra woke early the next morning, the early rays of sunlight just beginning to filter through her window. She yawned and stretched, then rung for her maid, who came with her usual promptness. The duke's daughter was well known in the servant's quarters for waking at such ungodly hours, and so her maid was quite used to it.
The riding habit was donned in short time, hair brushed and coifed, and Cassie went down the stairs and out the door, gloves and crop in hand. The groom was ready for her with two horses, and they mounted quickly and rode towards the park.
The Falkland Townhouse was situated in a distinguished portion of London, where only the most wealthy and titled lived. The homes were tall and stately, their facades cold but perfect. The sunlight on the whitewashed fronts was nearly blinding, despite the paleness of the early morning light.
Cassie breathed deeply as she reached the park. London air always seemed so heavy, so thick. And yet, whenever she reached the tree-lined paths and the bushes and stone benches, she felt more free, and the air felt more fresh. An illusion, of course, but there it was.
As she reached the straight path that lead by the river, she broke into a swift cantor. She remembered her friend's words the previous night, and so kept her horse in check, though she felt the surging power through the animal, the impatience to go even faster-the same impatience she felt flowing through herself. The wind racing around her felt cool upon her face, and she laughed. But as she reached the curve in the path, she slowed her horse gradually, knowing that even such things as these had to come to an end sometime.
She patted the roan's neck when they were walking more sedately, still wishing that she were still racing along the path. But she could see the sun already higher in the sky, peeking over the tops of the townhouses, and knew that soon there would be others in the park, besides her. In fact, she could hear now the sound of a horse on the path that converged with hers. As she neared the intersection, a horse and rider came from behind the trees that had blocked her view. She halted her horse as the other rider tipped his hat to her. "Lady Cassandra Falkland, if I remember correctly?"
Cassie looked sharply at the man, and felt her breath catch in her throat. It was the same man she had seen at the ball the night before-the one who had spent the whole night immersed in a sea of rumour and speculation. This morning, he was dressed in tight-fitting riding breeches and boots. His waistcoat, jacket and shirt were impeccable, as was his cravat. His mouth was wide, a smile curving it; his teeth white and perfect. His eyes were set well in his face, and their colour was as blue as the lake that stood within the Falkland estate. But right now those same eyes were laughing at her.
She recalled herself with a mental shake. "Good morning, sir," she said in frigid tones, then pulled out the worst insult she could think of at the moment: "I'm sorry, but you have the advantage. Were we introduced?"
His mouth quirked as one eyebrow rose in disbelief, and she found herself blushing in spite of herself. "I do believe we were introduced last night," he replied, "in addition to my mistaking you for someone else. But if you have forgotten, allow me to do the honours. Henry Crawford at your service, my lady."
She saw, out of the corner of her eye, her groom move forward slightly, closer to her, and knew that her companion had been gossiping with her maid again. "Well, then it is a pleasure to run into you again, Mr. Crawford," she replied in a voice that clearly implied the opposite, "but if you will excuse me, I must be going."
"May I have your permission to ride with you?" he asked with an appealing smile.
"No," she said shortly, and he seemed taken aback at her curt response. But as she rode haughtily past him, he turned his own horse and fell into place beside the groom, who, with nothing more than an odd look, accepted his company in silence. It didn't take Cassandra very long to turn her head in surprise at the sound of two sets of hoof beats behind her, but almost immediately she turned around again, her nose high in the air.
Henry followed her for some time before she stopped her horse, clearly waiting for him to catch up to her so that she could give him a set-down. But he foiled her again and remained back with the groom, who had also stopped a few metres behind. She clenched her teeth together in annoyance. "Mr. Crawford," she said, her voice polite but strained. "I would be honoured with your company."
He smiled smugly at the groom, who couldn't help but grin back, and rode forward to be beside Cassandra. They rode together in silence for a few moments before she asked him, "And what did you hope to accomplish with that, may I ask? You only seemed the fool, riding behind me like a common servant."
"Oh, there was no one around to see me," Henry replied, "so I don't mind the ignominy of playing the servant. And besides, they are often very nice people. I once knew a young lady, relegated to the class of servant-"
"Fanny?" asked Cassandra, in spite of herself.
He looked surprised at first, then suddenly, a dawning light of understanding crossed his face. "I had nearly forgotten about my mistake last night. And yes, her name was Fanny. She was one of the best, sweetest, most beautiful young ladies-which is most likely the reason I mistook you for her," he added with an innocent look.
Cassandra rolled her eyes and muttered something about "Spanish coin," which for some reason amused Henry enormously. She turned her head away to hide her smile, and changed paths. As Henry caught up with her, she asked him, "So why did you not marry this Fanny? Was she too poor?"
"Her wealth, or lack thereof, meant nothing to me," Henry said with a shake of his head. "The true thing was..." he hesitated, glancing at his companion questionably. "Well, I'm not sure if you'll give this any credence at all, but she refused me."
Despite Cassandra's dislike of the man, she was still astounded that someone would refuse him. "Was this after or before your...er, fall from favour?"
He laughed. "I would assume you're talking about my 'elopement?' It was before."
"Why, then?" The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She tried to correct herself, and pretend she didn't really care, but he held up a hand, stalling her. "I don't mind explaining, really. The truth was, she was in love with someone else...had been for a long time. Simple as that. Oh, and she thought I was a bit of a flirt."
"You?" Cassandra scoffed. "A flirt? Hmmm...I wonder why?"
Henry looked at her in surprise. Did she realise she was teasing him, or was this simply second nature to her? He watched her throat as she tilted her head back in laughter and listened to the musical sound of her mirth. She was truly utterly entrancing. A few tendrils of dark brown hair fell from beneath her riding hat, landing in bouncing curls upon her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed with exhilaration, and as she turned to find him staring at her, they flushed even darker with embarrassment.
He smiled and slowed his horse to a stop, coming to rest at a divergence of the path. "I'm afraid, my lady," he said with a sad smile, "that our trails must part, as they say. I look forward to seeing you again-do you always ride at this time of the morning?"
"I did," Cassandra replied, her head tilted to the side, looking at him cryptically. "I'm not so sure whether I will anymore..."
A lazy, amused smile drifted around Henry's lips. "Don't stop on my account," he said. "If you do not wish my company, I shall simply have to strike up a friendship with your groom." He gave her a wink, and taking her hand in his, raised it to his lips in a salute. His gaze remained on her face as he kissed her fingers softly, then with a short nod, turned his horse and rode off down the path. Cassandra remained where she was, watching him leave, unconsciously rubbing the hand he kissed.
"I wouldn't be seen too often in his company, Cassie," came the sarcastic voice from behind her. "Very poor for your reputation. And it is definitely a good thing no one but I witnessed that fond farewell."
Cassandra didn't even turn as she greeted her friend: "Good morning, Jasper. Did your breakfast disagree with you this morning? You seem in foul humour."
"After seeing him making eyes at you, it is no wonder I'm in foul humour," he said sharply as he reined in his horse beside her. "This isn't wise, Cass. Don't give that man any encouragement." He let out a hiss of anger. "Don't ignore me, Cassie; I'm only trying to look out for you."
She turned to him, her eyes flashing. "You don't have to look out for me, Jasper. I'm not a child anymore."
Jasper clenched his jaw, opened it to say something, but changed his mind and sighed instead. "I know, Cassie. But you know me-I've always been the protector, for both you and Freddy. I can't let go of that."
"Perhaps you need to," she said, turning her horse towards the path to her house. Jasper followed her. "I will make my own choices. And I don't need you lecturing me about Mr. Crawford. I know who he is, Jasper; if he decides to use me as prey, I'm prepared to fend him off. I do know how to defend myself, you know."
"Yes, I do," he laughed. "I taught you myself. Alas, I was also used for practice."
She gave him an innocent look. "What else was I supposed to do? You were the only male available!"
"Unfortunately," Jasper said, grimacing. "I couldn't sit down for nearly a week after that. And let me tell you, the vicar Wakefield was quite amused when I told him why I couldn't sit down in my tutoring sessions."
Cassandra smiled in remembrance. "Those were definitely the days," she said with a sigh. "Sometimes I wish we never had to grow up at all."
"Me, too, Cass."
They rode in silence until they reached the door of Falkland House. Jasper dismounted and helped Cassie from her horse, though she protested his assistance. They walked in together as the groom held their horses. As they entered the house, the butler bowed respectfully to them both. "Is Mrs. Gibbons awake yet?" Cassandra asked him.
"She has not come down for breakfast yet, my lady," the butler responded. "His lordship is in the breakfast room at this time, however."
Cassandra bit her lip thoughtfully, then turned to her companion. "Have you breakfasted yet?"
He shook his head. "Actually, I have not."
"Then shall we go find my father?" He nodded in response, and the two of them went through the hallways until they reached the breakfast parlour. Cassandra opened the door and went in, followed by Jasper. "Good morning, Father."
The gentleman at the table looked up. "Ah, it is you, Cassandra. And Jasper, as well?" he raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing else.
"Lord Roxbury," Jasper said with a smile and bow. "It's been a while since I've seen you."
"Years, I think," murmured the duke. "But apparently not the same for my daughter..."
"We met in the park, Father," Cassandra said quickly. "And he has attended a few of the same balls as I. I invited him to breakfast with us this morning. It is perfectly acceptable, after all; he is an old friend."
"Yes, yes," muttered her father, returning his gaze to the letter in front of him. Cassandra and Jasper filled their plates with the assortment of food on the buffet, then sat down at the table with the duke. They ate in silence for a while before Jasper asked Cassandra about a masked ball that was to be held a fortnight later. The two talked on this subject for some time; about the theme, rumours of decorations and costumes.
Suddenly, the duke interrupted them: "The Marquess of Altacross will be calling upon you this morning, Cassandra. I expect you to be in best form."
Cassandra nearly choked on the muffin she was eating. "Calling on me?" she gasped.
Her father looked up from his letter, his severe gaze falling upon her. "Yes, calling upon you. I ran into him at my club last night, and he asked my permission to call upon you. I, of course, gave it."
Her eyes met Jasper's across the table, and he shook his head slightly, warning her, but she didn't heed it. "But the Marquess of Altacross, Father? What is he, seventy?"
"He is only fifty-nine, Cassandra," the duke replied sharply. "And that consideration affects nothing. He has a worthy and noble title, and enough money to keep you in furs and jewels for the rest of your life. He is a fine catch, and you ought to be thankful that he will offer, especially with your reputation."
"My reputation!" Cassandra cried.
"For rejecting suitors. There are not many gentlemen left whom I would deem worthy of you that you have not rejected their suits. You are running out of choices, Cassandra."
"And so I should accept an old man I do not love and be entirely miserable in my marriage? I should accept simply because he is a 'fine catch,' regardless of my feelings or views on the matter, simply because you wish to be rid of me?"
"Love has no place in a marriage. And I will not have you rejecting perfectly good marriage proposals because you do not love the gentleman," he retorted, his voice rising slightly. "We shall not discuss this here, Cassandra."
"Why?" Cassandra sneered, pushing back her chair and standing. "Because you have already made your decision? You think I shall accept the marquess simply because you decree it? I shall never accept your choice, Father."
"Don't you use that tone with me, child," the duke roared, standing in his place. "And you shall accept him."
"No, Father," she replied with deadly calm. "No, I won't."
And with not another word, she turned and walked out of the room, her back straight, her chin high. The duke remained where he was standing, his jaw working furiously, a vein in his neck pulsing with anger. Jasper glanced at him, then with a mumbled excuse and a quick bow, he hurried after Cassandra. She was just beginning to mount the stairs to her room when he caught up with her.
"Cass, wait," he said, grasping her arm.
She turned to him, her eyes flashing. "What do you want?" she snapped.
He paused, then pulled her into a nearby room. He stood her in the middle of the room and took her face in both his hands. "Cassie," he said softly when she wouldn't meet his eyes, "look at me."
Her eyes were still blazing with anger as her gaze met his, and he sighed, his hands dropping from to her shoulders. "I know what you're going to say to this, Cassie, but just listen to me first." She nodded slowly, and he took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about this for quite a while, in fact. It isn't just a spur of the moment thing, you have to believe that."
He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and began to pace before her. "Your Father is an incredible man, Cassie; don't get me wrong. In some ways, I wish I could emulate him. In others, however, I believe he is lacking-especially as regards to you. I see him doing to you what Fredrick's father did to him." Cassandra made a protesting noise to this, but he held up a hand. "I know what you're going to say, but I think it's true. Perhaps not in the exact same way, and I have no doubt that you would never even consider the same...escape Fredrick took. Knowing you, you will fight your father until one of you kills the other." His eyes met hers. "I want to take you away from all this before that happens."
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Jasper?"
He tapped his fist against the side of his leg. "I'm saying we should marry. You and I."
Cassandra stared at him in shock, then shook her head vehemently. "No, Jasper."
He took a few steps towards her, putting his hands on her shoulder, leaning down to look her square in the face. "Do you love me, Cass?"
"Well, yes," she hesitated; "yes, of course I do. You're like a brother to me." She pushed his hands away and began to pace. "But that's the problem, Jasper. Don't you see? I could never marry you. We could never...I mean...well...you know what I mean. It would be like...sleeping with an older brother."
"Feelings change, Cassie. We wouldn't have to do anything at first."
She shook her head. "No, Jasper. I could never feel anything for you but the love of a sister."
"Then we'll give it a year. At least your father would be satisfied and not pressure you any more. If your feelings don't change, if you don't meet someone else...then we'll break it off."
She snorted in a very unladylike way. "How delightful. Then my father can rail at me for having the reputation of a jilt, as well."
Jasper sighed heavily. "Then I'll take the blame. If we don't suit, I'll contrive it to put all the blame for it on myself. You would be commended for breaking it off."
She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide. "And how would you do that?"
He shrugged. "Blatant affairs, obvious flirtations with other women within your sight...that sort of thing."
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Jasper, you couldn't..."
"I can, and I will, if you only give me an answer."
Cassandra turned towards the window and looked out into the street below. She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. "Yes," she murmured. "My answer is yes, Jasper."
He approached her at the window and laid his hands on her shoulders. With a gentle squeeze, he said quietly, "It's for the best, Cassie. I'll go find your father and tell him of your decision."
She nodded, and listened as he walked to the door and closed it behind him as he went off in search of her father. And as she laid her forehead on the cool glass she wondered what she had just done.
Henry entered the morning room to find his sister still at breakfast. "Why, you are up early, Henry," she said with a smile as he sat opposite her.
"I went riding," he said with a nonchalant shrug.
"And did you happen to run into anyone in particular?"
He smiled crookedly. "Of course. Your knack for obtaining useful pieces of gossip always amazes me, Mary. I did, indeed, run into Lady Cassandra this morning." He exhaled deeply and shook his head. "She is an incredible woman. Extraordinarily handsome. Seems intelligent, too."
His sister laughed. "Not exactly your type, Henry. You usually aim for the pretty, but rather feather-brained type. More easy to flatter, you know. They'd believe anything you say, as long as you smile at them."
"That's the reason, though," Henry said, leaning his elbows on the table. "If she married me, it would be for myself, and not some silly imaginary me. She would be what I had wanted from Fanny, except with fire! She's so...alive. I was watching her nearly the whole ball last night. Every action, every movement is done with such purpose. Even when she was bored out of her mind, she had such a...presence."
Mary looked at him shrewdly, then set her cup of coffee down. "You're obsessed Henry," she stated with a bit of surprise. "I've never seen you like this-not even with Fanny." She shrugged and waved a hand of dismissal in the air. "Perhaps it's simply a case of lust. I could find out if she would be averse to-"
"No, Mary. None of that. If I want her, I'll marry her."
"If?"
Henry sat back in his chair. "Yes, if," he said a bit tiredly. "I know she would be a perfect wife, Mary. I could imagine waking up beside her in the morning, coming home to her at night..." He looked over at his sister with a rueful grin. "And I hate to say it, Mary, but she's out of my league."
"Oh, posh," Mary exclaimed. "That is so preposterous. No woman could be immune to you. All you need is a bit of charm-"
"Have you ever met her father, Royce Falkland, the duke of Roxbury?" Mary shook her head, and Henry's jaw tightened. "He's the most self-important person I've ever met. He knows his place, and he knows his daughter's place. The lowest he would look for a son-in-law would probably be an earl. I wouldn't even have a chance.
"So yes, Mary," he said with a sigh, "if."
Chapter 3 Posted on Monday, 7 August 2000
Henry Crawford strolled down Bond Street beside his sister, glancing about at the passing crowds. Mary was looking in at the shops, exclaiming over this or that hat, gown, scarf, etc. He usually made some kind comment, but gently discouraged her from making further examination of the article. He was having too much fun where he was: glancing slyly at the young ladies shopping with their maids or companions, trying to make them blush.
Some would avert their eyes and tilt up their noses at him, though telltale flushes would appear on their cheeks to proclaim that they were not completely indifferent to his appraising glance. Others would blush prettily and giggle, turning their gazes aside and hurrying quickly away. It was rather amusing, especially with all of the evil glares sent his way by the defensive companions and motherly maids.
Mary stopped again, gazing through the window at a pair of gloves. "Oh, Henry! I absolutely must have those gloves. They are the exact colour of my carriage dress-you know, the one I purchased just last week? I had searched all over for gloves to match, but couldn't find any." She hurried into the shop, followed by a reluctant Henry.
He looked around the shop in a bored fashion, standing insolently in the aisle. A saleswoman rushed up to wait on Mary, and he nearly snorted aloud at her over-eagerness to make a sale.
As his sister dealt with the woman, Henry took up a post at the window, watching the people pass by the shop. He leaned against the wall and watched young ladies and their maids pass by, as well as matrons with their daughters and young men trying to gain the notice of the young ladies. It was rather amusing to watch the whole farce-the young ladies would simper and smile, the young lads would grin and nudge their friends, and the mothers or maids would hurry the girls along, glaring back at the offenders.
Just as he was turning his head to ask Mary if she were nearly finished, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure across the street. He straightened, taking a step towards the window as he looked again for her. Then he saw her again, threading her way through the people on the sidewalk, her maid following close behind her.
He turned to his sister. "Are you finished, Mary?" he asked anxiously.
She looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and exasperation. "Why, Henry? I'm almost done. Can you not just wait?"
"She's out there, Mary," he said, excitement plain in his voice. "I just saw her across the street. We may be able to catch her, if you hurry."
Mary looked at him curiously, but walked over to where he stood beside the window and looked out. " Lady Cassandra? Where? I don't see her anywhere."
Henry turned and looked out, searching the opposite sidewalk in vain for a glimpse of her. He grinned foolishly. "She was there a minute ago," he offered weakly.
His sister only looked at him in disbelief and returned to making her purchases. Henry continued to watch out the window, hoping to see her again, but he didn't so much as catch a glimpse. His attention was still on the crowd outside when he accepted the package for his sister, and they went out into the street again.
After a while, Henry finally gave up trying to find Lady Cassandra, and fell back on his old game of trying to make the passer-by blush. He had just managed to make one young lady erupt into a fit of giggles, which caused her mother to go off on an admonitory tirade, when his gaze was caught by a pair of emerald green eyes, which didn't look away. He found himself trapped in that gaze, and he could sense her challenge. She was telling him plainly that she was no withering violet, and would take on anything he dished out. And he looked right back, accepting her dare with a smile.
That was when he walked into the man coming from the other direction. The package flew out of his hands and landed on the sidewalk in front of his sister's feet. She nearly tripped over it, but stopped just in time. She turned to glare at Henry, who was brushing off his coat and apologising to the other gentleman, who simply huffed in indignation and continued on his way.
Henry's eyes flew to Lady Cassandra's, and he wasn't surprised at all to see her reaction. She smiled in amusement, one brow raised in mocking salute, then turned and entered a bookseller's. He watched her go, then picked up the package on the ground and continued in the direction he had been travelling. He stopped after a moment, though, as he realised that his sister was not walking beside him. He turned to find her still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at him with a mixture of incredulity and surprise.
"What?" he asked in exasperation when she didn't say a word.
She shook her head slightly in response, then picked up her skirts and walked past him, entering the carriage waiting for them. Henry climbed in behind her, still trying to figure out what he had done wrong. When they were sitting opposite each other, and the carriage was rolling slowly down the street through the traffic, Henry finally asked again what he had done.
Mary looked at him in disbelief. "What is wrong with you today, Henry? You seem to have changed so much since the last time we were together. True, it has been nearly a year, but that is hardly an excuse. What has happened to you?"
He looked at her blankly. "I don't know what you mean, Mary."
She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. "You are clumsy, for one-I have never known you to be so distracted so as to make a spectacle of yourself in a public place. Second of all, you are obsessed with this woman. And how long have you known her?"
He thought about it for a moment, then grinned sheepishly. "One day."
"One day!" she repeated. "You don't think that this is the slightest bit odd? For heaven's sake, Henry!"
"It seems like so much longer," he went on. "I can't explain to you why-it's just like I've known her my whole life. The moment I saw her, there was this feeling of...recognition."
She pursed her lips in frustration. "That's because you thought she was Fanny," she said wryly.
"Well, yes," he replied, waving a hand in dismissal, "besides that. She was just so familiar to me. It's like...we were meant for each other."
His sister stared at him in stupefaction before she burst out laughing. "Oh, now I know you are only funning me, Henry! You've let yourself be caught this time-you would never spout such romantic nonsense. Unless, of course," she added as an afterthought, "you were trying to get in a young lady's good favour. But that's not the case here!"
He smiled, then joined in her laughter. "You've found me out, I guess," he said, though his heart wasn't in it: "I've only been playing a game..."
Cassandra entered the foyer of the townhouse and set her parasol on the table as she took off her gloves and bonnet. Her maid came in carrying Cassandra's newly purchased book and paints, and went up the stairs to put them in her mistress' room. Cassie turned as the butler closed the door and went in the direction of the back of the house. "Wilkins," she said, and the butler turned with a questioning expression. "Has Lord Cullen arrived yet?"
"No, my lady. He is not expected until four."
She sighed inwardly, but nodded to the servant. "Thank you, Wilkins, that will be all."
She turned and followed her maid's trail up the stairs. She had hoped Jasper had come early. There was something she wished to speak to him about; this whole plan somehow felt wrong. And despite the fact that she had agreed to the engagement, she still believed that they were wrong.
Her room was empty when she entered it, and so she picked up the book that was left on her bureau and left again. She skipped down the stairs and walked towards the library. She found herself a cosy chair there and sat herself down in it, opening her book to the first page.
She was still reading when she suddenly felt someone's breath on her neck, and she spun around sharply, coming nose-to-nose with Jasper. She leant back a bit, looking him in the eye. "Don't ever do that to me again."
He smiled. "I'm sorry. You just looked so peaceful there. I knew I could scare you." He tweaked her nose and straightened. "But it's nearly time for our ride. Are you ready?"
"Oh! Is it already that late?" she asked in nervous surprise, her eyes flying to the clock on the mantle. "I hadn't realised...I ought to go change, I suppose." She stood and set her book down on the table beside her. After smoothing out her dress, while at the same time trying to calm her nerves, she moved to walk past him. He reached out and grasped her arm, though, and kept her from walking out the door. She turned to look at him, her brow raised in question.
"Is there something wrong, Cassie?" he asked, worried.
Her eyes flickered across the room, at the floor, looking anywhere but him. "No," she said. "No, there's nothing wrong."
"I don't believe you," he said softly. "Does it have to do with our engagement?"
She met his eyes. "You know what I think of it, Jasper. It won't work." She sighed, turning her face away. "I'm tying you down; what happens if you wanted to marry someone else? I've ruined it."
He shook his head. "I've ruined it, Cassie. I was the one who decided on this course of action. If anyone needs to be blamed, let it be me."
"But I agreed to it!" she cried.
"But it was my decision," he said, his voice growing harder. He held up a hand when she began to protest again. "And don't even blame yourself for your father. He created the situation, not you. Cassie, It's not your fault."
She looked down at his hand on her arm, and he released it. "I will be back in a few minutes, and we can go for our drive."
He nodded, and she left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she ran up the stairs quickly and entered her dressing room, ringing for her maid as she passed the bell pull. The maid entered to find her mistress rummaging through her wardrobe, trying to find the right dress.
"I can't find a good dress to wear, Meg," she complained as she held up a lavender-coloured carriage dress.
"Oh, no, my lady!" cried the maid with a smile. "You couldn't wear that one today. Here, let me help. You just sit down and wait." The maid quickly replaced her mistress at the wardrobe, and in not two minutes, returned with a pale blue dress and matching bonnet and parasol. She quickly helped Cassandra to change, then arranged the bonnet so that a few brown curls peeked out from beneath, and handed her a pair of white kid gloves. She stood back at last with a sigh. "You look like a picture, my lady."
Cassandra looked into her mirror and sighed. "Yes, I guess it will do. Thank you, Meg." She then turned and left the room, her parasol in one hand. She went down the stairs to find Jasper waiting at the door. She smiled weakly at him as he put his elbow under her arm to steer her out the door and up into the waiting phaeton. He then went a round to the other side and sat next to her, taking the reins from the groom.
They rode in silence for some time, until Jasper turned his head slightly towards her. "I do hope you aren't angry with me for saying that."
"Saying what?" she asked lightly.
He didn't respond for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose that's all I'm going to get, aren't I? You never were one to hold a grudge."
She smiled. "I forgive anything human. Or at least, I make a pretence of it. I could never actually tell someone that I hated them; I would simply act as I always had. I can't help it. I don't like conflict."
"That's my Cassie," he said with a grin, which slowly faded from his face. "I had always wondered how you could still be kind to people like Lord Kilbourne, after what he had done to Fredrick. Every time I saw that man, I wanted to kill him." His jaw unclenched as he looked over at her, a somewhat puzzled look on his face. "And yet you-you could laugh and talk with him as if nothing had happened; as if he weren't the son-of-a-"
She laid a hand on his arm in warning as she shot him a stern glance. "Jasper, there are some things that can't be avoided. It wasn't only Lord Kilbourne. Fredrick made his choice, as well. If he hadn't run up all those debts...if he hadn't gotten involved with that girl..."
He sighed. "I know. I should've been there for him. It's my fault, too."
She looked aver at him, a look of amused disbelief on her face. "Sure, and why don't we blame the cook as well?" she asked dryly. "After all, she didn't serve him his favourite meal that day. He must have been positively devastated."
Jasper let out a bark of laughter. He turned towards her, a grin on his face. "You sure know how to diffuse the tension, don't you?" He sighed. "I guess you're right, though. The blame doesn't rest on any one person."
"I know why you're doing this for me, Jasper."
"Doing what?" he asked with a confused glance.
"This; the engagement. You try too much to take on everyone's problems. You've always been that way; as we were children, and now as adults. You couldn't help Fredrick, so you've decided that I need your help. And I appreciate it. Really, I do. It's just...I wish you wouldn't see me as your duty."
There was a short silence, and she looked up at him, then quickly away. "I don't," she heard him murmur. She had seen something in his expression that she didn't want to interpret at that moment. She had enough problems as it was.
They entered Hyde Park and joined the traffic of curricles and phaetons that circled the paths. Cassandra smiled and nodded to acquaintances that greeted her, and several times their phaeton was stopped as they were hailed by friends. Many gave the two a curious glance, but said nothing. As they rode away, Jasper murmured to Cassandra, "They won't be surprised, I don't think, when they read the engagement notice tomorrow in the society papers."
Cassandra looked over at him. "Father had already sent in the notice? And the betrothal papers?"
"Already taken care of," he said. "The duke was most insistent we get it in writing. I'm sure he thought we were trying to pull the wool over his eyes."
She grimaced slightly. "He would, wouldn't he?"
Her name was suddenly called out from somewhere to her left, and she turned in question, then drew in a sharp breath. A curricle pulled up beside theirs, and the two occupants greeted her with a smile. "It's so nice to see you again."
"Likewise," Cassandra said politely. "And I remember your sister. Good afternoon, Miss Crawford."
The lady smiled beautifully. "To you, also, Lady Cassandra. And Lord Cullen."
Jasper nodded in greeting, then turned his head the other way, glancing about at the other carriages. Cassandra grimaced inwardly at this obvious snub, and smiled kindly at the other two as Miss Crawford said, "I understand you were out on Bond Street this afternoon. It was a pity to have missed seeing you."
Cassandra smiled, shooting a glance at Mr. Crawford, who coloured a little. "I had only been there to make a few purchases. Though it would have been nice to run into you. We weren't able to talk much the first time we met."
Henry sat forward a little. "Then perhaps you might be able to further your acquaintance. We have a box for the theatre tomorrow night, if you would wish to come along."
Jasper turned his head here, and said in clear disdain, "I'm sorry, but Lady Cassandra has an engagement with me." He smiled as the import of his words sank in, Henry shooting a surprised glance at Cassandra, then added, "We really must be going. It was a pleasure seeing you."
The Crawfords nodded in stunned silence, and Jasper brought his horses to a brisk walk. Cassandra turned to him, a frown on her face. "You didn't have to do that, Jasper. If I actually had an engagement with you tomorrow, I could have told them politely. They will find out about our betrothal tomorrow. You didn't have to say it like that."
"I think I did," was all he responded. They left the park shortly afterwards, and the rest of the drive home was borne under a tense silence.
Chapter 4 Posted on Wednesday, 9 August 2000
The following morning was dark, the rain beating down mournfully on the windows outside. Henry lay in bed, not sure whether he really wanted to get up. He kept telling himself that he wouldn't believe it until he read it in the papers. Although, he thought, if Lord Cullen was already announcing it to people, it was a given that it would be in print fairly soon. Especially judging by Lady Cassandra's reaction when he said it, the main point being that she didn't refute it immediately.
At last, he decided that he had wasted enough time lolling about, so he rang for his valet. Once he had changed, he went down the stairs and into the breakfast room. It was empty, and the food had not yet been set out. He looked over at the clock on the mantle for the first time, and realised that it was only a few minutes past six. He sighed and looked out the window at the pouring rain, trying to decide if there was any point in going for a morning ride. She would never venture out in weather like this...would she?
His hesitation cost him, and he was soon to be found riding along the paths of the park, the rain streaming down his coat and breeches and collecting in the brim of his hat. He shivered, knowing he would regret this later. He sneezed, then sneezed again. Well, apparently not that much later. He pulled his coat closer around his body and brought his horse to a trot.
As he rounded the bend that lead to a straight path along the river, he heard two riders behind him. He looked over as the one came abreast of him. "Not exactly the kind of weather I'd expect you to be out in, Mr. Crawford," she said.
He smiled crookedly. "I wouldn't expect a well-bred lady out in it, either."
She raised a brow. "Then why did you come?"
"Because," he said with a grin, "I know you better than that."
She laughed and brought her horse to a cantor. Henry matched her speed, sending her glances periodically as they rode. She seemed to be having fun. The cool rain on her cheeks gave her a healthy glow, her eyes lit up with energy. When they reached the turn in the path, they slowed their horses and rode in silence for a while. At last, Henry spoke up. "Are you really engaged?"
She didn't answer for a while, and he looked over in question. She was looking the other way, her head tilted slightly. "Yes," she said so softly he almost thought he didn't quite hear her.
He didn't know how to respond, so all he said was, "Oh." The silence between them grew thick as the rain began to fall harder.
At last, she turned to him and said, "I'm so sorry for yesterday, for Jasper."
He shrugged. "What's there to be sorry for? You don't have to apologise."
"No," she said, shaking her head emphatically, "I do. There was no reason for him to be so curt. I hope you didn't take offence. He's been like a brother to me...he's very protective."
He laughed. "And so I must be protected against! I knew the day would come..." He turned to her impulsively. "I'm really not all that bad, you know."
She raised a brow at him. "Really? Then you aren't considered a rake, and you didn't run off with some man's wife?"
"Ouch." He grinned. "I guess I deserved that. You enjoy speaking bluntly, don't you?"
"It's the best way. To hide behind words is wrong. Why not simply say what you want to say?"
"Tact, maybe?"
She shrugged. "What do we need tact for? To be constantly worrying about one's image, about other people's feelings-it's ludicrous. I have no need for anything like that." She grimaced slightly. "Which is probably why my choices for marriage are slim. I don't exactly mince words when I reject my suitors."
"I can only imagine," Henry replied. "Don't you ever feel sorry for them?"
Cassandra paused and looked over at him, a curious expression on her face. "I guess I never thought about it." She sighed. "Most of them didn't want me, anyway. They wanted a prop, a perfect wife. And my money, of course. I wasn't really anything to them."
"And what are you to Lord Cullen?" he asked softly.
She looked at him in surprise, taken aback at the question. She began to stammer out an answer, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked the question. It was wrong of me. I had no right."
The groom behind them sneezed right then, and Cassandra turned her head, her expression apologetic. "I am so sorry, Timmy. I hadn't thought..." She sighed and looked at Henry. "I should return home. I can't have my groom getting a cold or the grippe or something. You should probably return, too. You are going to be so sick...if you could only see your nose right now: red as a cherry."
He laughed. "And you look perfect, as usual. Even the rain can't dim your beauty."
Her breath caught in her throat at the sincere look in his gaze, but she managed to drudge up a smile in response. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford. But I think I should be returning. Good-day to you."
He nodded and tipped his hat as she turned onto a different path. He watched her go, staring at her retreating back, waiting. And then she turned and looked back at him. Their gazes caught for a moment, and he smiled. She turned away once more, and he began his ride back to the townhouse, soaking wet but warm inside.
He entered the foyer and took off his hat, gloves, and coat, handing them to the footman at the door. Mary was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him, hands on her hips, when he looked up. He smiled sheepishly. "I went on a ride."
She threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is beyond enough, Henry! To go out in such weather, simply to see this young lady-engaged young lady, need I remind you?-is ludicrous! To think that I would be standing here, telling you of all people, this."
"I had to see her," was all Henry said.
Mary pursed her lips. "You could have called on her this afternoon, in my company. I had been planning on doing so, to offer my congratulations, especially as I had not the day before. You could have seen her there."
He shook his head in response, and began to climb the staircase. "I may have been able to see her, but I could not have spoken to her, as I did this morning." His tone became sarcastic as he laughed bitterly. "Her fiancé is beyond enough when it comes to protecting his poor little lamb."
"Well, what do you expect?" Mary asked with an affectionate, though slightly mocking smile. "Especially when he has wolves like you on the prowl."
When they had reached the townhouse, Cassandra handed the reins to her groom and dismounted, then directed him to take a long nap and a hot bath. She then hurried into the house. Wilkins was holding the door open for her as she came through it, dripping wet. She took off her cloak and handed it to him, then her hat. Just as she was asking him to bring towels, she heard someone enter the foyer. She looked over in surprise at Jasper, who stood menacingly on the threshold of the drawing room. She looked in surprise at her butler, who pursed his lips slightly. "Lord Cullen arrived less than an half hour ago, my lady, asking to see you."
She nodded. "Thank you, Wilkins. Would you bring the towels to me here, and have a bath prepared in my room?"
He nodded, though from her familiarity with him, she recognised the expression of disapproval in his face. As the butler disappeared down the hall, she turned to Jasper. "You have five minutes," she said tersely. "Make it quick."
"First of all," he said, his controlled anger evident in his tone, "where have you been? If you haven't noticed, it's raining outside."
"I went on my morning ride," she said with perfect calm. "Weather has never held me back before, whether in London or no."
His jaw clenched tightly. "And I'm sure you met Mr. Crawford on your ride, didn't you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
He took another step towards her, anger flashing in his eyes. "Need I remind you that we are engaged, Cassie? If you don't stop frolicking around with this acknowledged rake-"
"We don't frolic," she interrupted contemptuously.
"-there won't be a single thing I can do for your reputation, if we break the engagement."
Her eyes flew to his. "If? What is this 'if?'"
His features hardened. "It's what happens when one's father puts in the betrothal notice." He shoved the morning's paper at her, and indicated a section of text. She read it in silence, her expression turning from one of incredulity to anger. "How dare he!" she exclaimed when she was through reading. "How dare he! And you had nothing at all to do with this?"
"Did you think I would?" he bit back. "Oh, ye of little faith. Why in Heaven's name would I do this? Let me assure you, your father did this all on his own. He had written out the announcement for me, but it didn't have that last clause-he must have added that after I left."
She looked back at the notice. "But three months? Three months is all we have? We agreed to a year, Jasper. I can't make a decision so soon. It's too soon."
"I know," he said, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. "But there's nothing I can do. If I ask him for longer, it'll only make him suspicious. Cassie, I can't do anything. He set the date-publicly, at that. To correct it now would raise questions. And if we then split, it will look only worse."
Cassie shoved the paper back at him as the butler came back with a few towels. She took them from him gratefully and threw one around her shoulders, under her straggling hair. With the other she wiped off her face. When the butler left again, she looked up at Jasper. "Are you going to talk with him, though?"
He shrugged in response. "I don't see the point, but I will anyway. He ought to know straight off that he won't find me an easy person to trample. He should've known that before now."
Cassandra looked at her old friend with a hesitant smile. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, Jasper. You always do." She patted him on the arm, then moved past him towards the staircase. As she began to mount the stairs, she turned back to look at Jasper. He was watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face. When he looked up and met her eyes, she read another emotion in them. She turned quickly away from that disturbing gaze and hurried up to her room, where her hot bath was waiting for her.
Chapter 5 Posted on Sunday, 20 August 2000
Cassandra sat in the drawing room, Mrs. Gibbons in a chair by the fireside, as they waited for the first visitors to appear for morning calls. She was trying to embroider a handkerchief, but so far, all her efforts were in vain. Her nervousness at seeing all of these people, who were no doubt coming for the sake of judging her, was at a high, and when the bell finally rung for its first visitor, Cassie couldn't take it any more and set the embroidery in her lap, not even bothering to pretend she was actually accomplishing something.
The door opened, and Cassandra jumped out of her chair and ran into the arms of another young lady who stood in the doorway. When they had both embraced each other fully, Cassandra pulled back and looked into the face of the other. "Priscilla Webster! Where have you been? I've missed you so much this Season!"
The young lady laughed, a merry tinkling sound. "My father had an illness, and my mother refused to leave without him. So we stayed in Bath for a while, and now here we are. I came as soon as I had read the paper. How did you do it?"
"Do what?" Cassie said with a smile.
"Why, make the biggest catch of the Season! No one could even hope to compete-the daughter of the duke of Roxbury, and the earl of Cullen, together? Why, I can't even imagine what the tattle-mongers will come up to solve this one!"
Cassandra drew her friend to a set of chairs on one side of the room, far from Mrs. Gibbons. "We have been friends since we were children, you know, Pris. And it's not at all what you think. I can only imagine what the gossip would say if they found out the real reason we are engaged."
She darted a glance at her friend, and caught her curious gaze. "Jasper is only trying to shield me from my father. Our betrothal isn't real."
"What?" Priscilla exclaimed, then lowered her voice when Mrs. Gibbons looked over curiously. "What? You can't be serious! Cassie, the ton would never forgive you for something like that."
"We aren't going to say that it isn't real," Cassandra said with a sigh. "For all intents and purposes, it is a true engagement. But we have agreed that if I don't have a change of heart before a specified time limit, we will break the engagement. We will simply say that we didn't suit."
Priscilla sat back in thought. "But the wedding is only three months away. Or so it says in the notice."
Cassandra nodded. "My father changed the date. Jasper and I had agreed to a year, but my father had other ideas. He knows nothing of our plans."
There was a silence between the two friends, and then Priscilla unclasped her hands and laid them on her knees. "Well, I still need to find myself a husband."
Cassandra laughed. "I would hardly say that you will be short of suitors. You always have had a deluge of beaux. What with your golden blond hair, sky blue eyes, perfect face and complexion...you are the perfect height, as well. Me? I have drab brown hair, green cat eyes, and a figure of a cow."
The room was suddenly filled with her friend's laughter. "You cannot be serious, Cassie!" she gasped as she smiled at her friend. "You are so pretty! Perhaps not in the fashionable way-but what is fashionable? Sure, I am called an Incomparable, because I have all the so-called 'fashionable' traits. But the gentlemen see me as unattainable-or at least, the ones I would have interest in see me as such. The ones that are attracted to me are the rakes, the fortune hunters, and the old men. Anyone looking for a wife with at least a bit of intelligence would not even look past my nose. They think that because I am pretty, I'm shallow and as feather-headed as the drabbest milk-and-water miss."
"I suppose you're right," Cassandra acceded. "But you are not the only one being chased by rakes..." and she filled her friend in on the attentions she'd been paid by Henry Crawford.
Priscilla listened interestedly, then leaned back in her chair, looking at her friend shrewdly. "And I can see that you are not unaffected by his attentions. After all, you rarely give those types the time of day, much less flirt with them."
"Flirt with them!" Cassandra exclaimed with a laugh. "I do not flirt with him!"
"From what you say, Cassie," Priscilla said with a grin, "I'd say you do. Although, I'd have to see the two of you together to be certain..."
They were interrupted at that point by the entrance of Lord Cullen, who came over to his intended and gave her a kiss on the hand before bestowing his attentions on her friend. There was no need for introductions as the two had been acquainted nearly as long as Cassandra and Priscilla had known each other. However, as Jasper smiled and bowed over Priscilla's hand, Cassandra watched with thoughtful eyes as her usually staid companion's cheeks grew becomingly rosy.
"Are you ready for the sharp eyes of Society's matrons, Cass?" Jasper asked in an undertone. "We have to make a fair impression now, or they'll wonder when the time comes..." He trailed off as he shot a glance at Priscilla, but Cassie shook her head. "She knows all about it."
He nodded, and swept an arm in the direction of a sofa in the middle of the room. Cassandra stood, as Priscilla did, and they seated themselves just in time for the first caller.
The day went slowly for Cassandra, with people going in and out of the room constantly. Most stayed no more than 15 minutes, then left, no doubt to pass on the gossip about the newly engaged. It was like she was on trial, and every visitor was the judge; the scrutiny was nearly unbearable.
But Jasper's presence at her shoulder, as well as Priscilla at her side, helped her through. They offered the silent support of friendship. She knew that if worse came to worse, she could rely on them to pull her through. It was nice to have the feeling of security.
Yet after a while, Cassandra began to sense that something was wrong. There was an underlying tension in Jasper's manner, and as she watched him subtly, she noticed the stiffness that was creeping into his posture, the tightening of his jaw every so often. She wondered what it was that he was so worried about.
Every few minutes, he'd glance at the door. She began to wonder if there was a particular person he was watching for, and after only a short while, she was certain of it. When a visitor would enter, he would at first tense up, but then relax as he realised who it was. Her mind worked furiously, trying to think of who it could be, and when she hit on a solution, she was proved correct by their entrance.
The moment the butler opened the door and announced the Crawfords, Jasper laid his hand on Cassandra's shoulder, and she could feel the tension practically radiating from his body. The eyes of all of the visitors in the room first rested on the couple in the doorway, then slowly, almost as one, turned to look at Cassandra and Jasper, waiting for something to happen. The silence was almost deafening.
Mary Crawford approached, smiling as if unaware of the atmosphere of the room, her brother trailing behind her, glancing around somewhat nervously at the occupants of the room. Mrs. Gibbon's bristled a bit when his eyes rested on her for a moment, and Cassandra inwardly prayed that her companion would say nothing untoward to the new arrivals.
"I wished to sally forth this morning, when I first read of your engagement in the paper, to offer my congratulations," she said as she stretched out her hands to Cassandra, who smiled at the woman. "But of course, I had to wait until the proper time to visit. You are such a lucky girl, Lady Cassandra. I remember Lord Cullen at my own come-out; he and young Fredrick Botsworth were quite the pair. And what an odd pair, to be sure! Why, they were as different in looks as they were in personalities. Nearly every girl I knew wished to be the one to capture either of them; which one, of course, wasn't a concern. The both of them were great catches."
Cassandra had felt Jasper's hand tighten on her shoulder and nearly looked up at him in surprise. With her mind on the puzzle of his unease, she was unprepared for what Mary said next as she went on with her reminisces: "Oh, and I was such a lucky young thing, that at least one of them became friends with my brother. Fredrick and he were constantly in each other's company." She laughed lightly. "Not that it did me any good, mind you, because I didn't catch his eye in the least!"
Cassandra glanced at Mary's brother under her lashes and detected the tension running through him as he listened to his sister. His gaze was not on her, though, but on Jasper. With a dawning realisation, Cassandra began to understand that there was much more to Fredrick's story than Jasper had ever told her...much more.