Page 60 of Impassioned
He squinted one eye at her as he rested his forearms on the sides of the chair. “That’s amusing, isn’t it? You guiding anyone through a Season when you have no experience. You could scarcely manage to suffer through yours.”
She should have expected this. The man had never minced words. “I am older now. More mature.”
A smirk twisted his lips, but he schooled his features quickly. “I should hope so. I am, in fact, counting on it. I will be watching you closely. Your primary objective is to see my daughter wed to an acceptable gentleman. You likely think I’m a hard and uncaring father, but I indulge my daughter past the point where most fathers would. I let her delay her Season, and I am giving her the opportunity to choose her husband.”
“Which is more than you allowed your heir,” she murmured. If he was going to speak plainly, so would she.
His brows shot up. “The kitten has claws? I never would have guessed.” His demeanor altered slightly as he shifted in his chair and seemed to regard her with something akin to appreciation. Not admiration, however. That would be too much to hope for.
Still, Sabrina’s chest expanded, and she sat a little taller. “I understand what you wish to happen, and I shall do my best to help Lady Cassandra find a match that is acceptable to her.”
“Just know that if she does not, she will be wed to a man of my choosing.”
Sabrina didn’t doubt he was serious, even if he did have a habit of indulging Cassandra. “Have you already identified this man?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are no longer a kitten but a cat. I shall bear that in mind. Enough of that discussion. There is one other matter I must address with you, and that is your failing role as countess. If you are to be Duchess of Evesham one day—and of course you shall, unless you happen to die—you must claim a larger role in Society.”
Sabrina nearly choked as she swallowed. “I shall endeavor to cling to my mortal coil. What sort of role?” Her stomach knotted as she considered what he might have in mind. The thought of having any sort of “role” beyond that of countess made her want to retch.
“As countess and future duchess!” He glowered at her as if she were daft. “People look to you to be a leader—in fashion and entertaining.” He blew out a breath as if he’d traversed dangerous terrain. “I am pleased to see you are dressed well today. It is a marked improvement.”
Though it was a backhanded compliment, she would take it, given the source. “Thank you. I have an entirely new wardrobe for the Season.”
“You may gain my confidence yet. However, to do so, you must do something else besides succeed as Cassandra’s sponsor.” He paused, and Sabrina wondered if it was to allow her gut to churn in anticipation for this mysterious task. Whether that was his intent or not, her insides recoiled. “You and Aldington will host a ball on the twenty-third. The purpose will be to present Cassandra formally.”
Sabrinahadmentioned to Constantine that they should have a ball, she was still reluctant. It wasn’t the planning or the execution, but rather fulfilling the requirements of a hostess at such an event. She’d have to greet everyone and ensure she exuded charm and poise for hours and hours amidst a clamoring crowd of some of the most judgmental people in London. Or not—she controlled the guest list, did she not? Perhaps she’d limit the invitation to members of the Phoenix Club. She’d never felt more comfortable amongst strangers than she had that night.
With more than a month to plan, she was certain that she could organize an outstanding event. “I’d been thinking of having a ball, but I’d thought to do so in May instead of April.”
“April? No, the twenty-third ofMarch.”
Leaning forward, Sabrina practically fell out of her chair. “That’s in ten days.”
“Eleven, but no matter. There’s no time to waste. Cassandra needs a groom, and the Season will be well underway by the twenty-third of April. Her Grace could have executed a ball here by Friday.” His features softened briefly, but it was fleeting, and his austere expression returned.
Was he setting her up to fail? She longed to ask him that. “This is my first experience hosting anything,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t want it to be lacking.”
“Then don’t allow it to be. You’ve proven yourself to possess more grit than I originally thought. I am certain you can meet this challenge.” His eyes glittered expectantly. “Am I wrong?”
“No, Your Grace. I will rise to this occasion.” She only hoped she didn’t topple to the ground.
He abruptly stood. “Excellent. I shall look forward to my invitation. I’m certain your retainers will be up to the task, however if you require assistance, please feel free to consult Bender.”
What would Constantine say if he’d heard his father practically insult his servants? Feeling particularly defensive about the wonderful people who ran Aldington House, she also stood and lifted her gaze to his. “Our butler and housekeeper are more than capable of managing everything that is required.”
“My offer remains should you need it.” His attention flicked to the doorway. “Here is my lovely daughter and her companion. I shall leave you trio to plot.” He strode toward the door but paused at the threshold as Lady Cassandra and Miss Lancaster moved into the room. “Remember the goal, ladies. There will be a June wedding. You need only find the groom.”
And with that, he departed, leaving a rather cold air swirling.
Lady Cassandra curled her lip toward the doorway and deposited herself onto a settee with a low grumble. Glaring toward the doorway, she pressed her lips together. “Pffft.”
Even when she made a face and a silly sound, Lady Cassandra was beautiful. With her dark hair and eyes, she definitely took after her father and Lucien, but there was a golden quality to her eyes that the men didn’t possess. In fact, if Sabrina had to describe the color, she would call them sherry. Or did she just want another glass of that excellent wine she’d tasted yesterday?
As the companion sat down beside her, Sabrina stood and went to take a chair closer to them in the center of the room. “Good afternoon, Lady Cassandra, Miss Lancaster.”
Lady Cassandra straightened herself and smoothed her hands over her cheeks and across the sides of her head before folding them primly to her lap. “Why are you calling meLadyCassandra? You should be calling me Cass as Lucien does and as Con does when he’s feeling less priggish.”
“Then you must call me Sabrina.”
