Page 76 of An Unwitting Alliance
Cassandra digested the words slowly before tuning in to the others’ conversation.
“The temporary solution is a committee of townsmen with the people’s best interest at heart. The more permanent solution would be to put the workhouse into the Carlton Gilbert Union,” Mr. Sheldon said.
“I heard it can take years to incorporate a workhouse into the union.” Miles pulled his knees up and leaned over them.
Miss Fielding shook her head of dark curls. “That will not do. Some of these issues need to be addressed immediately. The poor are working themselves into early graves.”
Cassandra wondered what Mrs. Fielding would think of her granddaughter speaking her mind so freely. No one else seemed the least surprised.
Mr. Sheldon answered Miss Fielding’s concern. “This is why we focus on the committee for now and replace the overseer or give him more accountability. Even with an eventual union, there are advantages and disadvantages to weigh.”
“The process would go much more smoothly with the rector on our side,” Tom said.
Mr. Sheldon agreed. “I will draw up a proposal for him as soon as I return home.”
Tom reached over and clapped Mr. Sheldon on the knee, leaning against Cassandra’s legs in the process. “This is exactly why we needed you to come, Fisher. You and your knowledge are a godsend.”
Mr. Sheldon pulled his leg back. “The legal expertise is all yours, but the only person I want touching my knees is Mrs. Sheldon.”
Everyone laughed, and even Cassandra smiled. She had never had this sort of camaraderie with friends, especially not with Patricia at the center of her own small circle. Patricia. Just thinking of her reminded her of the pearls, and anxiety coursed through her, causing her to shiver.
Tom must have felt the subtle movement, because he turned and looked up at her. “Are you well, Cassie?” His voice was soft, and no one but her heard the question above the group’s ongoing conversation.
The simple question opened a floodgate of emotions in her, and she barely held them at bay. “Perfectly well.” Which was true physically, but her mind was anything but settled. But what were her needs to those of the Kelbys?
His brow furrowed. “Something is bothering you. Is it your mother? Should I send everyone home?”
“Mama is well enough. I checked on her before dinner.”
“Then, what is it?”
“We can speak of it later.”
“When and where?”
He was most persistent, and she knew she could not keep putting him off. But where could she safely speak to him? She waited until Mrs. Sheldon began talking with Miss Fielding across the room of her wedding trip before she answered. “After the others are in bed.”
“On the stairs?” Tom whispered.
Not if Lord Reynolds was nearby. She did not trust him yet. “Just outside on the front steps.”
His brow rose an entire inch. “Why, Miss Vail...”
She gave his head a soft shove, and he chuckled but turned around so all she could do was smile softly at the back of him.
The only problem was she had not foreseen what anticipating such a meeting would do to her nerves. It was all she could think about as the last guest departed. She and Megan excused themselves, leaving Tom and Lord Reynolds alone in the drawing room. It would not be easy to evade Megan, let alone any servants. And how would she know when everyone had gone to bed?
Before she reached her bedchamber, she heard movement on the stairs and the men’s voices traveling closer. Now to convince Megan not to talk so her sister might fall asleep all the faster. After changing into their nightgowns and braiding their hair, they got into bed. Minutes later, Megan was snoring softly—miracle of miracles! With a yawn, Cassandra realized she too was overtired. It had been a long day.
Still, she crawled noiselessly from her bed and donned her half boots, knowing the ground would still be wet from the rain, and both her robe and her cloak. Time for her great escape. She slipped from her room and shut the door quietly behind her. When she turned, she almost screamed. Tom was quick to put his fingers to her mouth.
“Shh,” he whispered. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the stairs. She barely suppressed a laugh at the way they darted down the stairs and how Tom whisked her out the front door.
With his hand still around hers, she did not even feel the rain. Tom, however, reached over and flipped the hood of her cloak over her head, tucking her braid inside as he did. As she stared into his eyes, she did not feel forgotten as she had this evening.
“I think the shed would be a drier location.” She could hardly believe she was inviting Tom into her personal place.
“The shed?” he questioned.
