Page 25 of An Unwitting Alliance
Once he had mounted his horse, Tom remembered he was not heading home but back to the Vails’, and suddenly his betrothal was not the most horrific turn of events he had made it out to be. Certainly it was not what he wanted, but after seeing the workhouse, Tom considered his life to be incredibly blessed.
Before he could return to Fairview, however, he had one errand of utmost importance. He had neglected to bring his betrothed a gift. He hoped it would work as apology for the ball too. And, oh, did he have the perfect thing in mind. He almost smiled at the absurdity of his idea, but a fleeting image of Alan quickly sobered him. And it was a good thing it did, because he should not be too excited for anything connected to Miss Vail. After searching for her for the past several weeks, he had allowed himself to think on her much too long. Admittedly, he’d been happy to see her again—but who wouldn’t be? She was both charming and beautiful, in spite of, or even perhaps because of, the fact that she hated him.
However, if he was going to convince his betrothed to trust him, he must keep his senses sharp and his mind clear. No more eggs at breakfast. He had to fight his attraction, even if he had to blindfold himself so as not to stare at her beauty, keep his gloves on at all times to prevent an accidental touch, and clothespin his nose to keep from inhaling her bewitching peach-blossom scent. He was absolutely not going to get attached.
Chapter 10
Cassandra adjusted her sewing basketon the crook of one arm so she might link arms with a glowering Megan.
“I don’t even like needlework,” Megan grumbled.
“It’s merely an excuse for a social outing with other ladies.”
“Don’t pretend you’re happy to be here when I know you’re just as anxious as I am.”
Staying home where she might accidentally bump into Mr. Harwood again didn’t exactly appeal to Cassandra either. She would require days or even weeks to forget their encounter over breakfast. She opened the waist-high white gate leading to the stately manor house and offered what comfort she could to her sister. “Marianne will be there.”
“But Harriet was not even invited.” Megan was not to be so easily placated. “And what happens if someone brings up Mr. Harwood?”
“No one will bring up our guest, because they do not know of him or the engagement. And neither of us is going to mention either one.” They climbed several wide steps, and Cassandra rapped the knocker against the door.
“I know; you made me promise ten times already.” Megan crossed her arms tightly. “You do realize you have quite a few members of your family. Someone is bound to tell at some point.”
The butler opened the door before Cassandra’s frustrations with her sister could escape. He took their bonnets and directed them to the sitting room. Cassandra had been invited to a ball at the Pollards’ the month before her trip to Bradford, but it was different being here in the daytime and without her parents.Instead of tracing the faces of the women she already knew, her eyes took in the furnishings. Wide vases with leafy plants filled the corners of the room, and paintings of beautiful landscapes hung on every wall, the largest and most notable above the fireplace. It was flanked by two large golden candlesticks. Broad windows were slung with rich burgundy drapes. Everything was of the utmost opulence.
Patricia sat in a chair at the head of the room, as if queen of it all. Her butter-yellow dress was overtrimmed and her brown hair carefully styled. Cassandra and her sister were the ninth and tenth addition, and the room was humming with polite conversation. They curtsied after their names were announced and hurried to take the open seats by their friend Marianne, one of their few acquaintances immune to Patricia’s snobbery. Cassandra greeted the company generally and pulled her embroidery out of her straw basket.
After catching up on Marianne’s own wedding news—a love match, of all things—Cassandra’s mind was once again drawn to her dilemma with Mr. Harwood.
“Cassandra Vail, that sour expression does not become you.” Patricia’s voice carried across the room to her.
Apparently, Cassandra’s thinking face was not attractive. How kind of Patricia to notice. Marianne sent her a commiserating look.
“Forgive me, Patricia,” Cassandra said. “I’ll be sure not to use it when I am trying to impress anyone.” She meant it as an angry retort but said it in a carefree way that could not be taken as an offense.
Megan giggled and Patricia’s annoyance grew, her petite features narrowing. “MissMegan,” Patricia snipped. “If you want to be in the sewing club, you have to prove you know how to sew. I don’t think you have managed a stitch since you arrived.”
Cassandra’s grip on her needle tightened as she waited for Megan’s response. The girl had been fragile lately with her worries about not having any suitors and then with the upheaval of Cassandra’s engagement. An attack by Patricia could provoke all sorts of reactions.
“I am perfectly capable of sewing,” Megan said. “But if anyone would rather switch to a croquet club or even a riding club, I will be the first to resign all my needles and thread.”
“This is a sewing club, and it is going to stay a sewing club.” Patricia’s scowl deepened.
Cassandra interjected quickly. “Of course it is.”
Soon the conversation turned toward gossip, as it usually did.
“I heard the thief has struck again,” Patricia said. “Miss Grover, do tell everyone what you told me before the rest of our sewing members arrived.”
Miss Grover’s long features pinched together. “Mama’s nicest brooch is missing. She hasn’t seen it since her last dinner party. She is convinced someone snuck in her room and stole it.”
“One of her guests?” Marianne asked.
“Heavens no.” Miss Grover’s mouth turned down. “My mother would never be friends with a thief. No, she believes it to have been stolen afterward.”
Cassandra wondered if Miss Grover’s mother had simply misplaced it. It seemed strange for a thief to take only one piece of jewelry instead of all of it.
The afternoon waned, and a few guests, including Marianne and Megan, wandered over to a small oval table for refreshments and lemonade. Cassandra hurried to finish her last stitches so she could do the same. With fewer people between her and her hostess, she unintentionally overheard the conversation between Patricia and Miss Grover.
