Page 40 of Impassioned
Drawing a breath, he straightened his shoulders, adopting a stance as if he were facing down a pack of wolves. “You have raised me to be the duke when you are gone. It will be my responsibility to ensure the members of this family are taken care of. I take that duty very seriously, and I want what’s best for Cassandra. Don’t you wish to see her wed this Season? Lady Aldington is a better choice of sponsor to meet that end. Furthermore, you selected my wife based on a variety of factors, including her unimpeachability. That trait alone makes her a better sponsor. Whether you think she has the initiative or cleverness to navigate Cassandra’s path doesn’t particularly matter. I know her far better than you, and it’s time you allow me to do what you’ve educated me for.” Constantine nearly laughed. As if he knew her very well at all. Hopefully, that would change.
He truly hoped for that?
The duke’s gaze simmered with a heavy contemplation without any indication as to what he would decide. “That was a pretty speech. You have been an excellent student. I will take your recommendation under advisement.”
Constantine allowed himself to relax the barest amount, the tension in his body lightening but not disappearing. “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, you’ll consider very closely how you plan to vote on the Importation Act.” The duke sat forward and picked up his magnifying glass, returning his attention to the papers on his desk. Constantine was dismissed, and it seemed a deal had been proposed: if he voted for the act, his father would appoint Lady Aldington as Cassandra’s sponsor.
Constantine didn’t want that arrangement. Turning on his heel, he stalked from the study. The comfort and relaxation he’d felt from his racing club meeting had been completely pulverized by his father’s domineering autocracy.
Bender met him in the entry hall with his hat and gloves.
Constantine wondered if he should speak with Cassandra to inform her how the meeting went and that he’d inadvertently given their father the idea that a compromising situation was possible. But no, if he did that, the duke would find out and it wouldn’t help their cause for Lady Aldington to be Cassandra’s new sponsor. He would have to hope that his father would see reason.
Because Constantine sure as hell didn’t want to vote for that act. Especially now that his father had all but demanded he do so. Apparently, Constantine would prefer to be contrary.
Or perhaps he was ready to emerge from the duke’s shadow.
Chapter 10
When Sabrina arrived in the dining room that evening, her husband was already there, standing in profile at the head of the twenty-foot table. The candlelight seemed to make his bright-white collar glisten against the stark black of his coat. A single emerald stick pin was the only color in his attire, sparkling amidst the snow of his cravat. She was a bit disappointed that his neck wasn’t exposed as it had been that morning after Grayson had scratched him. Apparently, she rather enjoyed ogling his bare flesh.
He pivoted as she walked into the room, his gaze sweeping over her in a hooded fashion. She couldn’t read anything about his reaction. Or if he even had one.
The head of the table was set as was the seat to his right. Sabrina moved to the chair and he, not a footman, held it for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Your chin looks to be improved.” Though there was an inch-long, thin, red stripe.
“It is no longer bleeding, at least. I am not usually this prone to injury.” He was of course referring to the cut to his hand on the night she’d arrived. Was that humor in his voice? She thought so. Perhaps they had turned a corner onto a new path earlier. Who knew a mischievous cat could do what they could not?
As she sat, his hand fleetingly grazed her shoulder. Though the contact was brief and slight, she felt it in the pit of her belly, where a mass of flittering butterflies tickled her in anticipation of the following evening. When she would be his tutor, of all things. The thought of it still sent her into a near panic, and she had to suppress the urge to let out a nervous laugh.
After Aldington was seated, the footman poured claret and the first course, white soup, was immediately placed before them, sending a pleasing aroma of veal and almond into the air.
Sabrina picked up her spoon amidst a tumult of anxiety. She needed to tell him about her invitation to the Phoenix Club. Instead, she said something completely inane. “I have missed Cook’s white soup.”
“She does make my favorite version,” he said before sampling from his bowl.
They ate in silence for a few moments—well, outward silence. There was a cacophony in Sabrina’s head as she contemplated how to tell him about the invitation, recalled everything she’d discussed with Evie that afternoon,andanticipated what was to come tomorrow evening.
She cast a glance in his direction, noting the sharp angle of his cheekbone and the lush sweep of his eyelashes. How had she never noticed how long they were?
Setting down her spoon, she sipped the claret, which reminded her of summer berries. Again, she stalled. “This is delicious. I don’t drink wine very often at Hampton Lodge. I never know what to ask for. Perhaps you could provide me with some direction.”
His brow pleated. “Dagnall should be able to help you with that.”
Dagnall was the butler at Hampton Lodge. She preferred to have her husband’s assistance. “I was rather hoping you could share your opinions,” she said serenely before taking up her spoon and finishing her soup.
“I’ll ask Haddock to put together a selection of wine for us to taste. You should form your own opinions instead of relying on mine.”
“I’d like to hear yours all the same. Tasting them together sounds delightful.” Something else to look forward to. The butterflies in Sabrina’s belly rose to her chest.
A footman removed their dishes, and another replaced them with the next course, sole and green beans. Sabrina gathered her knife and fork.Now. Mention the invitation now.
The butterflies grew darker and moved more quickly, with a sickening effect. She forced a smile. “How was your racing club meeting?”
She was such a coward. And why? Telling him this was nothing compared to asking him if he preferred to sleep with men. He was also not her parents who typically found a way to make anything Sabrina found good into something bad. Aldington wouldn’t do that. He hadn’t ever.
