Page 57 of Impassioned
He wouldn’t tell her that he was also surprised or that he’d negotiated for it to happen. “The transition will take place Monday. In the meantime, you must call on Cassandra tomorrow to review her calendar and strategize.”
The fear he’d glimpsed a moment ago flashed back. She busied herself finishing her plate. “The strategy is with regard to finding a husband?”
“That is my father’s primary objective.” And perhaps his only one, at least as far as Cassandra was concerned. With Constantine, the duke had wanted him wed, but, more importantly, he wanted him ready for the dukedom and weighted with the necessary sense of propriety and duty. His goals for Lucien were less concrete. Indeed, Constantine wasn’t entirely sure what their father expected of his middle child.
What he did know, however, was that happiness or contentment didn’t seem to be of interest to their father.
Sabrina retook her seat and picked up a piece of white cheese. “I will do my best to ensure Cassandra is settled with due haste. To her satisfaction, of course.” She glanced toward him, her shoulders hunched, making her appear nervous.
“We are in agreement on that.” He wanted to allay her concerns. There was no use in asking if she truly wanted to take this on. It was too late. The commitment had been made, and to withdraw now would only irritate his father. It would also confirm his low expectations, and Constantine would move heaven and earth to ensure Sabrina exceeded them. “I’m afraid it will be challenging to support Cassandra in the way you must while also adhering to my father’s demands. We will all present a united front if trouble arises.”
Her shoulders straightened, and he hoped that meant she felt better. “What sort of trouble?”
He swallowed a bite of cheese. “In the event Cassandra doesn’t find anyone she wishes to marry this Season. I won’t let him force her, not like he and your parents did with us.”
Their eyes met, and in hers he saw gratitude and something else he couldn’t precisely define. Warmth spread through him, and he abruptly returned his attention to the wine. “There are three kinds of white wines—all hock, which is from Germany. The first one is the youngest and will be the least sweet. The next one is sweeter and the last is the sweetest of all. As I said, they have a lower level of alcohol. So if you like them, you could rest easy that you could drink it throughout dinner and not become inebriated.”
“No wonder so many ladies prefer it. I’ve tried it, of course, but I didn’t realize there was a variation in sweetness. I don’t know that I would have ever called it sweet based on my experience.”
“If you’ve only ever had them with meals, you would likely have had the less sweet version.” He smiled as he lifted the first of the hocks. “See what you think after you sample these.”
After trying the first glass, she seemed to think for a moment, her lips pursed. “I’m not sure I like that. Perhaps it is better with food.” She bit into an apple wedge. “That is preferable. In fact, I now think I’ve had this particular hock before at a dinner somewhere.”
“Speaking of dinner, the Brightlys have invited us to dine with them Wednesday evening. I hope you don’t mind, but I accepted. If you have a conflicting engagement—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish before she shook her head. “No, nothing. That sounds lovely. I so enjoy Mrs. Brightly.”
“The sentiment is mutual. She is quite looking forward to it, according to Brightly.” He finished the first glass of hock. “I suppose we should try to coordinate our social engagements.”
Her brow creased, which was a usual occurrence during their acquaintance, but less, he noticed, since she’d come to town. “Because of last night? I notice you haven’t asked me about the assembly.”
No, he hadn’t. In part, that was because he’d been too focused on what had happened later in the evening. “I should have done. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I did. The club is beautiful.”
Constantine didn’t tell her he’d harangued his brother for an invitation. She didn’t need to see the depth of his jealousy. The emotion reared its nasty head once more as he imagined her dancing beneath the sparkling chandeliers. He knew his brother had spared no expense with the club’s decoration, a fact that drove their father mad with fury.
He drank the entirety of the middle hock in one swallow. “See if you like that one.”
She sampled it but seemed preoccupied with him as her gaze kept straying in his direction. “That’s very good. I hope you know that I regret we weren’t able to go together last night. I’m attending another ball tonight. Will you be able to accompany me?”
There was a note of hope in her voice that drove the jealousy from his mind. “I’m afraid I have an appointment I can’t miss, a strategizing session at a colleague’s house.”
“Of course. You are so very busy with important work.” She smiled briefly before tasting the third hock. “I rather like that. I could drink far more than would be necessary.” The card went immediately to her left to join the claret card.
Constantine nearly laughed. “That is often the way with alcohol. Perhaps I can join you at the ball later? Where is it?”
“Lord and Lady Hargrove are hosting.”
“I shall do my best. Starting next week, I will ensure I attend the same events as you and Cassandra. I have tried to appear alongside my sister, but now I have even more reason to do so.”
She stared at him, and the air between them seemed to thicken. “Why, because I’m there?”
“Yes.” He picked up the first wine in the back row. “This and the next are madeiras, then two sherries, a port, and lastly, a marsala.”
She sampled the first madeira, doing what she’d said and taking a very small amount. Her eyes shuttered, and she took another, longer sip. When she opened her eyes, he saw joy. “Oh, that is very good.” Off the card went into the pile of favorites.
“I think you might be in trouble,” he said, smiling. “I’m afraid the next one is even better. At least in my opinion.” He moved on to the second madeira.
