Page 10 of Intolerable
Cassandra and Fiona had been united in their desire to avoid marriage, at least in the short term, while they enjoyed their first Season. But both were being pressed to wed—Fiona because her former guardian wished to get her off his hands and Cassandra because it was “past time” according to her father. She knew he would consider it a personal failure if his only daughter didn’t wed during her first Season.
Fiona looked at her with sympathy. “Is there any chance of simply telling your father you’d like to postpone getting married until next year?”
“I’m not sure I want to do that. I think I’d like to get away from him, actually.” It was becoming stressful to deal with his near daily lectures about duty. “If I can just find a gentleman who isn’t completely intimidated by my father and who could love me, I’ll be satisfied.”
Fiona’s brow furrowed. “Satisfied doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“Said the woman who just eloped to Gretna Green with the man she loves.” Cassandra laughed. “We can’t all live a fairy tale, Fi. I’ll be happy to settle for someone with whom I share an affinity and the hope that we will fall in love.” That wasn’t her preference of course, but it was becoming apparent thatsettlingmight be required.
“I will still hope that love comes first.”
Cassandra would hope for that too, but would also strive to be optimistic, difficult as that may be sometimes. “My brother didn’t fall in love first. Con married Sabrina because it was arranged, and now look at them. Well, you may not know, but they are entirely devoted to one another. It’s quite wonderful.”
“That’s one example then.” Fiona looked as though she was also trying to be optimistic, but that mayhap she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“My mother told me once that while my father swept her off her feet at the start, it wasn’t until after they were wed that they fell in love.” Cassandra spoke softly, tentatively. Both Fiona and Prudence were staring at her. And both tried to mask their surprise. Because Cassandra rarely spoke of her mother.
“I didn’t know that.” Fiona smiled. “What a nice memory. I’m so glad you shared it with us.”
“I wish I knew more than that,” Cassandra admitted. “But my father refuses to talk about her, and since she died when I was seven, I don’t have a great many recollections.” That one had stuck with her, though. Probably because in the years since, she’d clung to the idea that her parents had loved each other. Her father certainly didn’t discuss it, nor did he use the word love with regard to his children. Not even Constantine, whom he clearly adored.
“I learned something rather shocking just before I left with Tobias,” Fiona said quietly, her gaze on her lap. She lifted her head to look at Prudence and Cassandra. “This is just between us, of course. My father and Tobias’s were lovers. That’s how I came to be Tobias’s father’s ward after my mother died. Then when the Earl of Overton died, I became Tobias’s ward. It explains a great deal as to why my mother often seemed sad.”
Cassandra reached toward Fiona and took her hand, giving her a squeeze. “I didn’t realize your mother was sad. I suppose I’ve avoided talking about our mothers.” She sniffed then let Fiona go.
“I have too, somewhat. I loved my mother, but there was a part of her I never knew.” Fiona looked toward Prudence. “What of your mother, Pru? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned any of your family.”
Prudence, who was already quite fair, appeared to lose a shade of color. “My family is, ah, gone. My mother passed two years ago. We were very close. I miss her a great deal.” Her voice was small and thin, and Cassandra resisted the urge to leap over and hug her. Prudence did not seem to be a demonstrative sort of person.
“I’m so sorry, Pru,” Cassandra said with great warmth. If she couldn’t hug her physically, she would at least try to convey her emotional support.
“I am too,” Fiona said. “If you’d like to tell us about her, I’d love to hear.”
Cassandra nodded in agreement. “Yes, please.”
Prudence’s mouth turned up slightly, but it wasn’t really a smile. “Thank you. There isn’t much to tell, but I appreciate your sympathy. Should we return to the discussion regarding your faux courtship with Wexford?”
Since Prudence clearly didn’t want to discuss her mother, Cassandra wouldn’t press. She was not an insensitive beast like her father. “I’ll speak with Wexford tomorrow evening and come up with a plan. Hopefully he’ll agree to continue asking me to dance from time to time and perhaps take me for the occasional promenade. I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince him to call on me again,” she added wryly. “He may not be interested in doing any of this at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is eager to be done helping me, despite holding his own in front of my father yesterday.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Fiona said. “But I suppose you’ll find out tomorrow.”
Yes, she would, even as an annoying voice at the back of her mind said it was foolish to continue this association with him. She was having a devil of a time forgetting about theincidentand given their mentions of it the other night at the ball, he seemed to be too. Or perhaps that was just her wishful thinking.
She looked at her friend and her companion, both of whom would keep any secret she revealed. Even so, she couldn’t tell them about the incident. She and Wexford had sworn they would keep it between them.
They’d also promised to forget it ever happened. So far, that wasn’t working out so well.
Six weeks earlier…
“Shh. Did you hear that?” Cassandra whispered, looking toward a closed pair of doors leading from the Phoenix Club ballroom. She’d heard voices coming from the other side.
Dressed as maids, complete with copies of the club’s livery of gray gowns, green aprons, and white caps, she and Fiona had stolen into the club to see the interior. And she was not about to allow them to be caught.
Cassandra grasped Fiona’s hand and pulled her toward a wide archway cloaked with a thick curtain. She released Fiona and slowly opened the drape. “Stair hall.” Inclining her head for Fiona to follow, she held the curtain until Fiona passed through.
Standing in the stair hall, they could see directly into the entry where a footman stood near the door. He didn’t see them, but if he pivoted, he would. Damn, Cassandra had so wanted to see the massive portrait featuring Pan that Lucien had commissioned.
“Upstairs!” she whispered urgently, dashing for the stairs. Fiona followed, and as they climbed, Cassandra couldn’t help muttering, “So close to seeing the bacchanalia portrait.”
