Page 67 of An Unwitting Alliance
Cassandra rubbed her arm absently, still processing what had happened last night. “I am glad we could provide you some amusement.”
“Sit down, dear.” Cassandra did as she was told and sat facing Mama. “Have you and Mr. Harwood made any progress?”
“Do we have a choice?” She did not want to reveal anything, not when she could hardly put her feelings into words. Besides, even if her heart had changed, she would not encourage Mama. A forced union could never be a positive one. No matter how poor or misfortunate their circumstances became, Cassandra and her siblings deserved the opportunity to choose their own paths.
Mama sighed. “Aunt Evans said she thought a close friendship had formed between you.”
“I suppose.” Cassandra shrugged.
“This has not gone at all as I had planned. I had hoped to provide activities better situated for courtship this past fortnight, but you are not the only one whose circumstances were chosen for you. I did not expect to be laid up in bed, nor for your father to be away in London.” Mama leaned back against her pillows. “We must both make the most of the choices left to us. A few smiles and positive words and our low spirits will pick themselves up, ready to face whatever is before us.”
Cassandra nodded reluctantly, her fingers picking at a thread on the blanket. Her mother’s attitude had been far better than her own.
“Has he kissed you yet?”
Cassandra’s head came up fast. “Mama!”
“It is just an innocent question.”
One that was far too private. Tom’s kiss was easily the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to Cassandra, but it was not like he had repeated the gesture. It would be far more telling if he had, since the first time had been initiated under duress. And he’d had opportunity enough on the balcony at the ball. Shaking her head, she pointed to the book in her mother’s lap. “Why not tell me about your book instead?”
“I’d rather discuss you. I have little to write to Lady Felcroft. What of the disguise Mr. Harwood wore the other night? Robert told me all about it, but I would like to hear it from your perspective. Did he really have a beard? Your aunt thought she saw you dancing together that night as well. And Michael said Mr. Harwood frequents the schoolroom to see you.”
Cassandra slumped down across the bottom of the bed, her hand going over her eyes. “You did not want Aunt Evans to have a break. You wanted a trip to the theater, where the great poets have written a love story starring Mr. Harwood and myself.”
Mama gave an exaggerated frown until her bottom lip popped out. “Couldn’t you invite him in and act out a few things I have missed?”
“Absolutely not!” Knowing Tom, he would embellish every flirtatious moment. “Does everyone have a meddlesome mother like I have?”
“I can only speak for myself, but you have to know how difficult this is for me, Cassandra. You are my oldest daughter. I have wanted this match since you were born.”
Cassandra rolled off the bed, came over to Mama’s side, and plucked the book from her stomach. She set herself in the chair beside the bed and started reading. When Mama begged her to stop and humor her with at least a few details from the ball, Cassandra only read louder.
The next morning, she saw Tom for the first time since the ball at the breakfast table, having taken all her meals on Sunday with Mama. Her heart pounded inside her chest with a nervous excitement. Aunt Evans and Megan had not come down yet, and she had to admit she was pleased to have a minute with him all to herself.
Tom stood and briefly lowered his head in greeting, his blue eyes smiling as they met hers. “I trust you slept well.”
“I did, thank you.” Was the freshly shaven, bright-eyed man in front of her really her betrothed? Just the sight of him sent her mind dreaming of a different reality, where only he and she existed.
He seated himself again before asking, “Do you have your sewing club this morning?”
He’d remembered. “I do.” She took up a plate, even though she’d rather skip eating and just be with Tom. Dutifully, she filled her dish at the sideboard. “I fear yesterday must have been dreadfully boring for you, and this morning will be more of the same.”
“Auntie Evans proved to be an admirable opponent in chess, so we survived our Sunday well enough. This morning... well, I am to make a trip to the workhouse.”
“Again?” Cassandra set her plate down on the sideboard. She understood why he had to go, but she could not help the disappointment the lack of his presence would bring her.
Tom pushed back his seat and met her at the sideboard. He reached out his hand to hers, his fingers running slowly over the back of it until he gently covered her own. “I know we have a great deal to talk about, you and I.”
She swallowed. With this one small touch, hope bloomed inside of her. Self-conscious of how to respond, she ducked her head. Steadying her breathing, she met his gaze again. “It does feel like everything has changed.”
His fingers curled firmly around her own, wrecking her insides. “A good change.”
His words blossomed inside her like a bud of joy, full of possibilities. Full of him. “We can talk when you get back. Alan needs you, doesn’t he?”
Tom gave a single nod. “And his mother.”
“Is she... still alive?”
