Page 80 of Intolerable
“I refuse to let Ru—Wexford—upset me that much.” She lifted her chin. “I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”
“Of course you are,” Lucien murmured before leaping from the gig and rushing around to help her down. He squeezed her hand. “Please let me know if you need anything. I’ll find out if there’s any gossip swirling, but I should think we might have heard something by now.”
“Thank you.” Withdrawing her hand from his, Cassandra swept into Gunter’s where Prudence waited just inside.
“Oh dear, you look pale,” Prudence said in mild alarm. “What happened?”
“Lucien shared the truth of Wexford’s past with me. Apparently, he’s a serial romantic, falling in and out of love quite easily. I can’t imagine he will love me in two months, let alone three years. Oh, Pru, I’ve been the biggest fool.” Cassandra had kept her voice low and whispered the last so that the words were barely audible.
“Come, let’s walk around the square instead.” Prudence looped her arm through Cassandra’s, and together they left the shop. “Tell me all about it. Or not. Whatever you want to do.”
“I want to punch him in the face.” She loved him, and the knowledge that he likely couldn’t love her—at least not permanently—was a knife in her heart.
Cassandra poured out everything she’d learned from Lucien along with her own feelings of hurt and despair. When she was finished, she was surprised to find she felt slightly better. “I just need to fall out of love. Perhaps I should consult with Ruark on how best to do that since he’s apparently an expert.”
Prudence smiled. “There’s the Cass I know. Are you sure you don’t want to see him, to at least show him that you’re fine?”
“I suspect I’ll have ample opportunity to do that. It’s not as if I won’t see him around town. In fact, next time I do, I could very well be betrothed. And wouldn’t that be an excellent revenge?”
Prudence’s smile evaporated. “I hope you don’t become engaged solely for that purpose.”
Cassandra waved her hand. “I won’t. But it’s delicious to contemplate. I suppose I must think about what I will say to Glastonbury. I am considering his offer—whenever it comes—but I must speak with him about his boxing habit.” The thought of revealing her weakness made her uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help but think of how wonderfully supportive Ruark—Wexford—had been. She really did want to punch him.
A small voice in the back of her head said she should demand he explain himself, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming part of her that didn’t want to open herself up to more pain and disappointment. He’d tried to deter her, and she’d persisted, saying she’d wait for him.
That doesn’t make this your fault. He should have told you everything, not just the part about the vow he made his father. He should have included why that vow made perfect sense.
Because with that information, she may have made different choices. She would have, wouldn’t she?
Perhaps not. She’d fallen hard for him; they’d connected so deeply, or so she’d thought. He seemed the perfect solution for what she’d long been searching for—someone to love who would love her in return.
Shehadbeen a fool. Hadn’t she survived just fine on her own? Was there a need for her to completely expose herself, which had only left her ripe for disappointment? How was that better than feeling lonely or being afraid she would never have love? Glastonbury was looking better and better. He was a nice, safe gentleman who likely wouldn’t break her heart. That couldn’t happen when you kept it safely locked behind a wall.
She’d put Wexford behind her and do precisely that.
Chapter 19
The pleasure garden in Clerkenwell was smaller and more rustic than Vauxhall, but Ruark thought it a fine place to take his mother and sister on a sedate Monday evening.
“I would rather have gone to Vauxhall,” his mother said as they walked into the main area where music drifted from the covered area where a quartet played.
“And we shall,” Ruark said smoothly.
“It’s so beautiful,” Kat remarked, her gaze taking in the surroundings—from the bright lanterns to the supper boxes to the dance floor where dozens of couples swirled about in their finery. “Isn’t anyone afraid it will rain?”
Iona, who’d asked to come, and their mother had agreed, looked up at the sky. “I am.”
Ruark hadn’t considered that. “Then they shall rush to the supper boxes, I suppose.”
Kat tipped her head back and sniffed the air. “I hope they’re ready, because I daresay we’ll be subjected to a fine drizzle in the next hour or so.”
“We’ll leave before then,” their mother said. “It’s not as if Kathleen is going to find a husband here. You said there would be eligible gentlemen. All I see are couples, except for you.”
“You never know, Mother,” Kat said cheerily. “Husbands can be found in the strangest of places. Or so people say about you and Papa.”
Ruark had to stifle a laugh as their mother drew in a sharp breath. He noted Iona pressing her lips together and looking away. Sometimes Kat said things without thinking, but he was certain that had been an intentional—and direct—hit. He wanted to applaud.
Instead, he sought to soothe his mother’s agitation. “Kat has received several invitations, Mother. That pleases you, doesn’t it?”
