Page 97 of An Unwitting Alliance
It was Megs again, and she was frantic. “Cassie is missing. I can’t find her anywhere.”
“You’ve searched the house?”
“Yes. Everyone has gone to bed, and I hate to wake Papa after his trip or Mama and the baby. What should I do?”
Tom held up his hand. “Don’t wake anyone. I have an idea of where she might be. Why don’t you turn in. I’ll take care of this.”
Worry creased her brow. “Are you sure?”
Tom ran his hand over his face. “This is my doing.”
Megs took a deep breath. “Thank you. Good night, then.”
“Good night.” Tom left his bedchamber and made his way to the main floor. He crossed through the vestibule and let himself out the front door. If Cassie wasn’t in the house like Megs said, then she was most likely hiding in the shed. After circling the house, he made his way to the old structure—Cassie’s refuge. He could see a faint glow coming from the small window near the roof.
When he reached the door, he knocked and let himself in. “Cassie?”
“I’m here.” Her tone was flat, but at least she had not told him to go away. He stepped around the obstacles and through the narrow space divided by the bookshelf to reach the other side of the shed. His first glimpse of Cassie made him draw up short.
Her hair was pulled up under the mobcap he had gifted her, and she had a large fichu clasped around her neck with a broach. She smiled through her too-large spectacles. When she lowered the newspaper in her hands, she revealed Tiger on her lap as well as one of his brothers or sisters. The other kittens were climbing in and out of the basket near her feet. The comical scene was filtered through a soft lantern glow that rested beside her chair.
No matter how he told his disobedient lips not to react, they twitched at the corners. “You look beautiful.” And he wasn’t lying either. Her hair could be covered in mud, and she could have a hunch the size of a mountain in her back, and he would still think her the definition of the word.
She squirmed in her seat and forced her eyes back to her paper.
“It’s late. What are you doing, Cassie?”
She tapped the paper in her hand. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m practicing being a spinster since you so decisively ended our betrothal.”
He’d already loosened his cravat in his room, but his airway was tight. Her pain was choking him. He inched farther into the space. “A spinster’s life is well-suited for many. Your aunt, for example, uses her time and talents to the benefit of all. But it is not the life for you.”
“I cannot be certain, for it’s far more enjoyable than I thought. There is not a single handsome bachelor confusing me with his flirtations, and I have quite contented myself with my ruined reputation. It is rather freeing to have everyone think little of you, for there is far less expectation or pressure to perform differently. And I shall never be lonely with mysixcats.”
She was baiting him; he was sure of it. He pointed to her head. “I thought you preferred a turban.” Idiot. Why was he talking about turbans when he should be begging for forgiveness?
“Turbans for going out, Mr. Harwood. For staying in and reading, I find the mobcap suits me well.” Again with the plastered smile. And yet he found her vexing ways most attractive. She turned her head, unintentionally highlighting the graceful curve of her neck, and pointed to her eyes. “Oh, and I secured some spectacles, so I am quite prepared for what hours of reading will do to my eyes. If, by chance, my cats’ company is not sufficient, do not be concerned about my happiness, for fiction is far more reliable than reality. I shall be perfectly content.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” With two fingers he pinched the newspaper and drew it slowly from her arms, setting it on the floor by the lantern. “And it’s still Tom, if you please.” Next, he took a kitten off her lap and reached for Tiger.
She tucked Tiger to her chest. “What are you doing?”
“Eliminating any distractions. We need to talk.” He set the kitten in the basket. “Did you read my letter?”
“No.” She removed her spectacles and set them aside. “And I am only taking these off because I am no longer reading.”
“No matter about the letter; I would rather tell you myself.”
Cassie stood suddenly. “You can spare us both because I already know everything. I spoke with my father.”
“You can’t know everything.” He wanted to pull her to him, to show her how much he cared. He stepped closer, but she jerked back. There was a crash behind her as the lantern broke. The paper went up in a small flame, and she hopped to the side. Tom put his hands on Cassie’s arms and pulled her behind him as he stomped on the paper, but like a ripple on water, the fire spread to the books supporting the leg of Cassie’s chair, igniting them.
“Get out of here.” Tom snatched up the basket of kittens in one hand and a straggler in the other. Cassie hesitated. “You must go, now,” he urged.
“Only if you come too!” she begged.
He wanted to stay and try to contain the fire that was crawling nearer to the drapes, but Cassie was his greater concern. He could hurry her out and return to save what he could. “Very well.”
As soon as he said the words, Cassie retreated. He weaved out of the shed with the basket in tow and set it down a few feet from the shed on the grass. “We need water.”
