Page 3 of Intolerable
Wexford took Cassandra’s hand for the dance, and his eyes met hers. It vaulted the touch to an entirely new level as the connection stretched and held. She knew in her bones he was thinking of theincident. A flash of heat suffused her, and it had nothing to do with the cloying temperature of the overstuffed ballroom or the exertion of the dance.
Jerking her attention to the other young lady in their square, Cassandra asked an inane question about her gown. Anything to keep her mind from straying where it couldnotgo.
When at last the set was finished, Cassandra wished she could walk back to Prudence on her own, but that would be gauche. So she took Wexford’s arm and left the dance floor.
“What time would you like me to call on Monday?” he asked. “Shall I bring flowers?”
“You’ll help me?” She hadn’t been sure, despite the fact that he’d pledged to assist her in any way he could.
“Even though it puts me at considerable risk from Lucien’s wrath, yes.”
“I’ll explain the matter to him,” Cassandra said, eager to deliver her brother a setdown when it came to his attempts to manage her. “Please call whenever is convenient for you. Flowers are not necessary, but they would be a nice touch.”
They’d arrived back at Prudence. Pale with eyes the color of moss, Prudence possessed an ethereal quality that was completely at odds with her no-nonsense attitude. If she’d been born to a higher station, she would almost certainly have been the Incomparable of her debut Season.
“Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Cassandra took her hand from Wexford’s arm.
“It was my pleasure, Lady Cassandra. Enjoy the rest of your evening. I shall look forward to seeing you soon.” He bowed before leaving them. As he walked away, Cassandra watched his muscles ripple beneath the black superfine before tearing her gaze from him and turning toward Prudence.
“Is he going to help?” Prudence asked without preamble.
“He’s going to call on Monday. But he is certain Lucien will become angry. I should try to speak with him tomorrow.” Particularly since she’d told Wexford that she would. Also, because she really wanted to know why Lucien was being so obnoxious about Wexford of all people. They were friends, after all.
Prudence glanced toward the dance floor. “What about Lord Glastonbury?”
The Viscount Glastonbury was the single gentleman who’d called on her. They’d also danced a handful of times over the past fortnight. She’d seen him briefly this evening, but he hadn’t asked her to dance again. “He doesn’t seem to be interested in a courtship.”
Which was too bad. He was one of the only gentlemen she’d met who didn’t set her teeth on edge. He possessed both charm and wit and wasn’t completely intimidated by her father. That alone put him in a class by himself.
“You’re sure His Grace didn’t scare him off after he called?”
“I don’t think so.” Cassandra had arrived in the drawing room to find her father speaking with Glastonbury. The conversation hadn’t seemed tense, and Glastonbury hadn’t left before the requisite quarter hour. During that time, he’d been relaxed and amusing, just as he was when they danced. She realized they’d only danced once since then. Perhaps her fatherhadsaid something. No, surely not. He’d commented that Glastonbury was a good candidate, and the earl wouldn’t have asked her to dance after that if he’d been warned off.
Eager to change the topic from who may or may not court her, Cassandra scanned the ballroom. “Where did Fiona go?” She and her new husband had been with Prudence when Cassandra had left to promenade with Wexford, as had her brother Constantine and his wife Sabrina.
“She and Overton went to make the rounds. They are the talk of the ball. Again,” Prudence added.
Three weeks earlier, their elopement had been theon-ditof the Season, but Overton’s mother, the dowager countess, had quashed any mention of wrongdoing. She’d declared them a love match, all but putting an end to speculation about what might have happened between Overton and his ward. Did it matter since they were lawfully and happily wed?
It did to many in Society. The ton was rapacious in its hunger for notoriety and scandal.
“Hopefully in a good way,” Cassandra said. She would hate for her friend to be subject to harassment or rudeness. “We can’t catch up properly tonight, but perhaps we’ll have time tomorrow.”
Or not. Fiona was a newlywed, and Cassandra would have to share her with Overton now. At least she still had Prudence, who’d been Fiona’s companion before the elopement. Cassandra had been thrilled when her father had hired Prudence to be her companion, particularly since her sponsor was her careless Aunt Christina. Cassandra was fond of her, but she was always abandoning Cassandra at events. Tonight was no exception since she’d arrived with Cassandra and Prudence earlier, and they hadn’t seen her since. Why Cassandra’s exacting father allowed his sister to continue in the role was beyond her, especially since Sabrina had offered to act as sponsor and had done so rather wonderfully for a short time. Until the duke had become angry with Constantine and punished him by removing Sabrina from the position.
That Cassandra couldn’t even choose her own sponsor was another point of irritation. In some ways, she was eager to marry just to get away from her controlling father. She didn’t understand his behavior this Season. He’d always been gruff and even cool, particularly after her mother had died when she was seven. But he’d also indulged her. Until this year. Now he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
Had she done something wrong?
Well, yes, she had, but no one knew about that. No one but Wexford.
And no one else ever would.
“Glastonbury is coming this way,” Prudence whispered.
Cassandra straightened her shoulders and pushed away the nagging thoughts of her father and of Wexford. Smiling brightly, she dipped a slight curtsey as the earl arrived.
“Good evening, Lady Cassandra.” He took her hand and bowed. “The ball is far more exciting with your presence.”
