Page 17 of Intolerable
Once they were settled in the ducal coach, Cassandra blew out a breath. “For a moment there, I thought he was going to make us stay home.”
“We may still end up back there,” Prudence said a bit darkly.
“True.” Because Aunt Christina was unreliable and self-absorbed. “I am afraid to hope that Papa might allow me to attend the Phoenix Club assembly on Friday.”
“That’s wise of you.”
“But if he does let me go, I think I’ll wear the coral silk.”
Prudence laughed softly. “I would tell you not to get ahead of yourself, but I know that is a losing battle.”
Cassandra grinned as the coach carried them to Berkeley Square for the rout. “I have to have something to look forward to.” It certainly wasn’t an impending marriage. Yet.
Her father would force the issue, or so he’d threatened. Come June, she may find herself forced to the altar. No, she wouldn’t allow that, nor would her father actually do that to her. Would he?
A tremor of unease shuddered along her spine. She pressed back against the squab and looked out the window as the coach moved through Mayfair.
“You have plenty to look forward to,” Prudence said.
Cassandra realized how insensitive she’d sounded.Everyoneneeded something to look forward to. “What do you look forward to, Pru?” she asked softly, turning her head toward Prudence beside her on the seat.
Prudence smiled. “The Phoenix Club assembly on Friday. Tonight’s rout. The same things you do.”
Cassandra wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t want Prudence to just like what she liked. Rather, she hoped Prudence wasn’t just saying something she thought Cassandra wanted to hear. But no, Cassandra thought she knew the other woman well enough to know that wasn’t true. “What about marriage?”
“For me?” Prudence tsked. “I have never considered it.”
“But you could marry.”
“I suppose. However, where would I meet that gentleman? No one at a rout would marry me.”
The coach entered the queue leading to the Farrowsbys’ house.
“Perhaps someone at the Phoenix Club would. Some of the members wouldn’t be welcomed in Society. The owner of Lucien’s favorite coffee shop is a member, and he would never be invited to the Farrowsby rout tonight.”
“That coffee shop owner is also sixty years old if memory serves,” Prudence said. “Unless you weren’t suggesting him as a potential husband.” Her tone was dry and tinged with humor.
“I was not, actually.” Cassandra chuckled. “I’m merely saying, you could meet someone there. Perhaps you meet him on Saturday mornings,” she suggested with a sly smile. In the few weeks that Prudence had been part of their household, she spent her private time on Saturdays outside the house. Cassandra wondered where she went but also knew it was none of her affair.
Prudence briefly pursed her lips in silent response to Cassandra’s innuendo. Then she completely avoided it. “Do you think you’ve already met your husband?”
Cassandra exhaled. “Probably.” A parade of gentlemen flashed in her mind, chief among them Glastonbury and Wexford. Wexford lingered.
None of them eased the ache in her chest that bloomed when she thought of a potential husband. She longed to connect with someone, to discover thatthingthat would bind them together. More importantly, she feared she wouldn’t find it. Loneliness was terrible. At once, she wanted to escape it while at the same time she would do anything, put up any obstacle to protect herself from rejection and pain.
The coach pulled in front of the house. “Let us hope Aunt Christina is waiting in the foyer.”
“Shall I go ahead and see?” Prudence asked. “I really should.”
“Yes.” Cassandra didn’t bother hiding her frustration with her aunt’s behavior.
With a sympathetic nod, Prudence left the coach. She hurried up to the house, and a moment later, emerged to wave her hand in a beckoning motion.
Thank goodness.Cassandra stepped down from the vehicle and made her way inside where she joined Prudence. Aunt Christina greeted her with a wide smile.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Cassandra said.
Aunt Christina blinked at her with the same dark eyes as her brother. “I said I would be.”
