Page 52 of Intolerable
And what of his former mistress or the fair beauty he’d left in Ireland three years ago? Had he loved either of them? What were they doing now?
Suddenly he thought of Cassandra nine years on. What would she be doing? Would she be happy? Would he?
His shoulder twitched. He couldn’t keep torturing himself—or her. He needed to move on, to focus on the prizefight, to keep the vow he’d made. No matter the cost.
The day was overcast but thankfully free of rain as Cassandra walked into Hyde Park in the company of Sabrina and Prudence. While Sabrina wasn’t her sponsor anymore, she’d pledged to be available to Cassandra, something she’d reconfirmed at the end of their walk around Grosvenor Square the other day. She’d sent a note to Cassandra earlier inviting her to the park to promenade.
“Your walking dress is divine,” Cassandra said, eyeing her sister-in-law’s costume with a bit of envy. The cut was the absolute latest style and the dark teal color suited Sabrina perfectly. The best part, however, was the bonnet, which was like a men’s hat, though with a shorter top and a more curved brim, that sat at a jaunty angle over her brow. “It’s the hat, really. I need one.”
Sabrina laughed. “I wasn’t sure it looked right, but the modiste insisted it would—she designed it for the milliner to create.” She grazed the brim with her fingertips. “It’s so strange to have so many new clothes and accessories. Actually, what’s strange is the attention they receive,” she added in a lower tone.
“Some people are rather shallow,” Cassandra observed with a chuckle. “I suppose you must count me among them since I am so taken with your bonnet.”
“I would never count you among that sort,” Sabrina said fiercely. Her gaze swept toward the path they were approaching. “Glastonbury is looking this way.”
Cassandra whipped her head toward the grass on the other side of the path where several groupings of people stood. Glastonbury was with a few other gentlemen, but his gaze was directly on her. As they neared, he broke away to intercept them.
Bowing deeply, he took Cassandra’s hand. “The day is infinitely more fair now that you are here, Lady Cassandra.”
“You flatter me, Lord Glastonbury.” She withdrew her hand from his.
“May we promenade?” he asked.
Cassandra glanced toward Sabrina who gave her an inquisitive look but said nothing. Then she looked at Prudence who moved closer to Sabrina, silently indicating that they would remain at a discreet distance.
“Certainly.” Cassandra put her hand on his proffered arm, and they started along the path. “I’m so pleased to encounter you today. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Have you? Please, ask me anything you like.”
Anything? She would hold on to that invitation for later, perhaps. “I understand you are quite the pugilist. What attracts you to boxing? It seems such a brutal sport.” Almost immediately, she regretted asking him. If there was any mention of blood, she would humiliate herself in perhaps the most public place in London.
“I’m good at it,” he responded without a hint of arrogance.
“That’s it?”
He shrugged. “There’s a strategy and grace to it that soothes me.”
“How fascinating.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask how inflicting pain was at all graceful.
“I’m glad you think so.” His blue-green eyes met hers for long enough that she felt compelled to look away lest she walk into something or someone.
The viscount was different today. More attentive and revealing, more…flirtatious. Did that mean he was ready to move forward with their courtship? That would be just her luck since she’d realized she loved Ruark. She couldn’t possibly marry Glastonbury now.
Perhaps she was only imagining things. She would make no assumptions.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the familiar form of Ruark. Her heart leapt, and she couldn’t keep a smile from curling her lips. He was not alone. Two women flanked him as they meandered onto the path and came toward them. She knew the exact moment he saw her, for the air seemed to shift. It was suddenly warmer, brighter, and the scents of spring were more pungent.
“Lord Wexford,” she greeted.
“Lady Cassandra.” He bowed then inclined his head toward the viscount. “Glastonbury.”
“Afternoon, Wexford,” he said pleasantly.
Ruark glanced toward his mother and then his sister. “This is the Countess of Aldington, Lady Cassandra Westbrook, and the Viscount Glastonbury.” After the two women curtseyed, he continued with, “Allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs. Shaughnessy, and my sister, Miss Kathleen Shaughnessy.”
Cassandra saw the resemblance he shared with his mother—the slant of their eyes and the slope of their noses. The latter were probably identical before his had been broken. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Cassandra said warmly. “Let me also present my companion, Miss Lancaster.”
“How lovely to meet you,” Sabrina said while Prudence curtseyed. “Did you just arrive in London?”
