Page 21 of An Unwitting Alliance
With love,
Your mother
Tom did not so much as glance at the second sheet of paper, not ready by half for whatever chastisements the Matchmaking Mamas had written him in the name of advice. He folded the letter once more and set it in his trunk.
Certainly his heart was softened by the mention of Charley and by his parents’ desire for Tom to be happy, but he had closed off completely when he had read the wordsbe serious. That was not Tom’s way.
“Sorry, Mama,” he said to the closed trunk as he collapsed onto his bed. “Being serious is not at all diverting.”
Instead of planning on ways he could hold his sarcasm in check as his mother had fairly begged him to do, he fell asleep planning nothing at all.
Chapter 8
Cassandra rose early in themorning, feeling optimistic. There was no reason to panic just yet. Once Aunt Evans approved of her acting as her companion, all would be well. She did not even dread facing Patricia today because it meant she would not have to see Mr. Harwood for the entire morning. She skipped down the stairs to breakfast, anxious to eat before the others woke.
When she stepped into the dining room, however, she saw Mr. Harwood already at the table and froze. What was he doing awake at this hour? Wasn’t he exhausted after his long day of traveling yesterday? But there he was, relaxed in his seat like some god lording over his temple while his defined jaw flexed tight as he chewed. They made brief eye contact before she turned and walked right back out of the room.
“Wait!”
She groaned. Must she answer? She dragged herself back into the dining room, but only because she had been raised to use her manners. “I can let the servants know if you require anything.”
“I don’t bite, you know.”
All she could do was blink in response. Some of the shock of the previous day had passed, and she could not conjure up the same level of loathing from the day before. Her voice remained polite, but she still wanted him to know where she stood. “You might not bite, but youhavebeen the cause of a sprained ankle. I am not sure which is worse.”
Mr. Harwood winced. “I do want to apologize.”
She wanted to believe him. Truly, she did. But if he really were sorry, would he be here now? “I would not want to ruin anyone’s appetite by reviewing the events of that night. I shall leave you to your breakfast. Good day, Mr. Harwood.”
“Why not join me and eat breakfast?” His voice halted her steps. “And don’t tell me you aren’t hungry, or you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”
There was that mischievous smile again. Her heart flipped in her chest, but the visceral reaction was easily explained, wasn’t it? Anyone would think such a smile unnerving. “I do not think it proper to, um, eat together. Alone.”
“If we are only eating, we should both be safe, though I am not sureyoucan manage it.”
“What else would I be doing?” He was no doubt used to women fawning all over him, but he would not find such satisfaction with her.
He chuckled. “Careful with that imagination of yours. I merely meant you won’t be able to stop your verbal sparring and quelling looks long enough to eat. But you really should make an effort. You must keep up your energy for your outing this morning. Unless, of course, you are too afraid to eat by me.”
“That is the sort of tactic one uses to convince a child to do their bidding, Mr. Harwood,” Cassandra said, though she found herself reaching for a plate at the sideboard just inside the door. “I want you to know that I am not staying because you asked but because I no longer have the patience to wait until you are finished.” She turned her back and began filling her plate only to hesitate when Mr. Harwood’s chuckles turned into an outright laugh. It was a pleasant sound, and not at all grating, as she wished it to be.
“You are never going to forgive me for that night, are you?” he asked.
“I have no need to forgive you.” She kept her fare light with a toast and eggs and set her plate on the table across from Mr. Harwood, proving she was not in the least scared of him. “I am quite certain you will leave soon enough, and we shall never have a reason to endure each other’s company again.”
He pushed aside his unfinished plate and leaned over the table, his hands clasped together. “Then, you do not believe fate brought us together that first night and that when things did not go well we were given a second chance?”
She hesitated, not sure how to respond. She didn’t believe that, did she? Even now, she knew his presence affected her as no one else’s had before. But she would never marry someone like Mr. Harwood. He might possess an ounce more charm than the average man, but she wanted more than that in a husband. “I believe you and my parents brought us together. Why? Do you imagine otherwise?” She shoved a rather large bite of egg into her mouth and tried to chew without making herself look incredibly awkward.
Mr. Harwood studied her, his expression amused. “If such a force brought us together again, it has its work cut out for itself. I don’t think there are two people who would object a marriage more than we do.”
We?She tried to chew around that word. Either it was difficult to believe he truly wanted the same thing as her, or her bite was too large.
“Please do not be offended, Miss Vail. There could not be a more tempting subject than yourself.”
She inhaled sharply, and egg lodged in her throat. Air. She needed air. She coughed hard. Her hand, however, did not lift in time. Oh, heaven help her. Her throat was free of egg, but Mr. Harwood was not.
She scratched the bridge of her nose, partly to hide behind her hand and partly because she was not sure what to do. Mr. Harwood blinked, as if such an action would remove the scrambled bits of white and yellow from his cheeks. Not to mention the piece in his hair and the piece on his... mouth.
