Page 94 of Intolerable
Blinking, Cassandra struggled to respond. His mother knew about her? “Yes?”
“Why do you sound uncertain?”
“Because he only just sent me a note this morning, with a ridiculous poem, along with the most monstrously huge arrangement of flowers.”
Mrs. Shaughnessy grinned. “A poem? Was it awful?”
“Quite.”
“That’s my boy,” she murmured, still smiling. “You may be certain that he loves you. He was quite a blockhead about it at first, apparently, until I explained that he shouldn’t have listened to his father’s counsel.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “My former husband filled poor Ruark’s head with doubt.”
“He talked to you about me?”
“Not you specifically, but I guessed that he was in love. A mother knows these things, even if their child can’t recognize it.” Mrs. Shaughnessy gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t judge him too harshly. As I said, he was a blockhead with a mind full of doubt.”
Cassandra was even more eager to see him. “Do you know where he is? I want to speak with him.”
“I only saw him briefly before he left. He was going to a boxing something or other.” She looked to the butler. “Isn’t that right, Bartholomew?”
“Yes.” He was still quite pink in the face. “There is a prizefight this evening, and he has agreed to participate.”
He had? Her stomach roiled at the thought of him fighting. She needed to get to him. “Do you know where it’s located?”
Mrs. Shaughnessy shook her head then moved toward the butler. “Do you know? It would be most helpful to Lady Cassandra. And to his lordship.”
“I do not, but it will be outside London.”
Botheration! Who would know its location? Glastonbury probably. But she couldn’t ask him.
Lucien would know, wouldn’t he? Except she was annoyed with him for going to her father about Glastonbury’s financial situation and not her. Still, he was her best hope.
“Thank you. I deeply appreciate your help.”
Mrs. Shaughnessy came toward her. “Can I assume you return my son’s affection?”
“I do. He already knows that—I’d offered to wait for him until he was ready to wed.”
His mother’s eyes rounded. “You did? And he didn’t propose right then?” She scowled. “He reallyisa blockhead.”
“It seems as though he’s come to his senses.” Cassandra imagined the woman as a mother figure and felt emotion well in her throat.
“It will be wonderful to have you in the family, dear. I could tell you were special.”
Before she did something foolish, such as cry, Cassandra turned and nearly ran into Prudence who’d been standing behind her. “We’re going to Lucien’s. He’ll know where this fight is taking place.”
They went back to the coach and were shortly on their way to Lucien’s terrace on King Street.
Prudence turned her head toward Cassandra as they drove through Mayfair. “Your plan is to find the location of this boxing match and…do what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You could just wait until he calls on you tomorrow.”
“I could, but he said he was my ‘eternal love.’ I want that eternity to start as soon as possible.” She clutched Prudence’s hand. “You likely think I’m being foolish, but I know in my heart this is right.”
“I don’t think that, actually.” Prudence squeezed Cassandra’s hand before letting her go. “I just want to see you happy.”
Cassandra thought of going to the prizefight. Her stomach turned, and a cold sweat dappled the back of her neck. “Prudence, I’m going to need your help. If there’s any blood on display, I may faint.”
