Page 23 of Enchanted By the Lyon
“We are not a mistake, Cassandra.”
“There is nowe. There never will be awe. I am not interested in your bed, my lord, I’m interested in your heart.”
He lifted a brow in a sardonic smirk. “Many women have claimed to want my heart but I’ve learned what they really want is my fortune, and my title. I’m not about to hand that over to any woman.” He shrugged. “But I’d be happy to share my company. And my… body.” His smirk became a wicked grin. His usual, flirty grin.
Cassandra felt overcome by anger, and the thought he could so easily overcome her objections. A sound emerged from her that was part-growl, part-shriek. “You will not change my mind, Lord Blackthorn. Whateverthisis between us…” She waved her hand back and forth between them when he again stepped forward, “is and was a muddled mess and will not continue.”
“I do not for a moment consider what is happening between us as a mistake as you just implied, Cassandra.”
“If you think of me only as your latest conquest, then yes, Lucius, it is,” she said sharply as she reached for the handle of the door. But then she turned back one last time to gaze upon the man for whom she had held such an infatuation for so long. Perhaps itwastime to let the fantasy she had of him in her head end and move on with someone who she might find a common accord. Valentine, for example.
Or maybe for her, love had no part in her future.
“You are more than just a conquest,” he stated, and she swore she heard a hint of sincerity in his tone. Yet, maybe, that was again just wishful thinking on her part.
“And maybe I should have listened to the advice I was given where you are concerned, my lord,” she said softly. “It might have saved my heart from being broken.” Again.
She gave him no time to consider her confession as she opened and quickly closed the door behind her. She hadn’t meant to spill how much he had hurt her. The words just came rushing out before she could hold herself in check. She took a moment to ensure her mask was still in place before she returned to the main room of the Lyon’s Den. Somehow, she thought it should look different now. She certainly felt altered from whom she was, in this room, only moments ago.
She entered the crowded room and paused, unsure where to go and even if she wanted to stay. The enjoyment of the ball hadleft her. Now all she wanted to do was leave. Or hide in a corner and sob.
Leaving was probably the best option, she told herself, as she started toward the foyer.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Vaughn?” a woman’s voice said from behind her.
Cassandra turned to see Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who lifted her veil slightly to take a sip of her champagne.
She heaved a heavy sigh. “I believe I’ve made a mistake where Lord Blackthorn is concerned. You were right,” she began, trying not to allow her voice to crack.
“I generally am, where matters of the heart are concerned,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon answered.
“He will not make me a suitable husband,” Cassandra added, her gaze moving of its own accord to the man who only just now returned to the room. She felt her face grow hot and took hold of the fan dangling from her wrist to wave it in front of her flushed face and perhaps block her view.
The woman before her remained silent and it was anyone’s guess what she was thinking behind that veil. She finally spoke. “We shall see how the coming weeks proceed. In either case, I have already made a deal with Lord Blackthorn, and you will need to come to an amicable arrangement so he might find the answers to correct your past. Whether you like it or not, both of you will be seeing a lot of one another.”
Cassandra’s heart plummeted. “But—”
“In the meantime, I believe you will continue to enjoy the company of Lord Carrington,” she declared as she raised her hand, crooked her finger, and the gentleman she just mentioned began to move through the crowd in their direction. “He is amicable, and is as handsome as Lord Blackthorn to my eyes. With that, I bid you to enjoy your evening, Mrs. Vaughn. We shall chat soon.”
Cassandra watched Mrs. Dove-Lyon take her leave. Lord Carrington quickly took her place.
“Shall we dance, Mrs. Vaughn?” he asked, holding out his hand for her to take.
She spotted Lucius watching her intently before she plastered a fake smile upon her lips. Knowing there was no limit on the number of dances allowed to a lady here at the Lyon’s Den, she knew her answer. “I would be delighted, my lord.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Cassandra vowed to herself that she would enjoy the remainder of the night. But it was the watchful eyes of Lucius Ford that caused her façade to crack. She felt…broken. And while Valentine Pierce was a suitable candidate as only an escort to many of Society’s upcoming events, Cassandra hardened her heart to him, and to all men. It was going to take a lifetime to ever allow love back into that broken part of her again.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucius stood inSaxton’s study feeling like an imbecile as he waited for a meeting that he wished he didn’t have to attend. He had insulted Cassandra by his offer to make the woman his mistress. That they would continue to be put in close proximity of each other in order for him to fulfill his debt to Mrs. Dove-Lyon only made matters worse… at least in Lucius’s mind. How would he be able to stand being close to Cassandra without wanting to pull her into his arms was anyone’s guess. God, how he wanted her and yet once again he questioned his motives as to why.
He barely knew her but there was something about the lady that pulled her to him with invisible ties. She had placed some sort of a spell on him that went far beyond just wanting her to become his mistress. Or had she? Maybe she would be like every other woman he had taken to his bed in the past, satisfying momentarily because he’d obtained the unattainable until he was ready to move on to the next lady to whom he took a fancy.
He knew his heart was incapable of love, or so he told himself over the years. His lady love had forsaken him and he had sworn to himself to never feel trapped into letting such an emotion get the better of him. Only the good Lord above knew how muchMarsha’s betrayal had affected the rest of his life. He had never forgiven her even after he learned of her death from the man she ran away with.
And then there she stood in the doorway with her chin held high and that regal grace even a duchess couldn’t mimic. He gave her a bow but after she performed the customary curtsey she continued to stand where she was. Haughty. Beautiful. Unattainable.
“Mrs. Vaughn. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Lucius finally managed to mutter as he motioned to one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Will you join me?”
