Page 24 of Intolerable
Cassandra slid an exasperated look at Prudence who was sat opposite them in the rear facing seat. Her features were a perfect mask of impassivity. Cassandra did try to mimic her ability to remain cool and reserved at all times. Unfortunately, she usually failed.
“At least you agree that you can be intimidating,” Cassandra said, gently flicking a pink petal from her skirt that had just floated down on the breeze.
“I agreed to no such thing. If anyone finds me intimidating, they aren’t worthy of your hand.”
“Lord Wexford wasn’t intimidated, yet you found him wanting anyway.” She was prodding his ire, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He seemed utterly unaware of his effect on people.
“Speak of that devil,” the duke muttered, his gaze darting to the left.
Cassandra followed his line of sight and immediately saw Wexford standing in a small group. The others could have been trolls for all she noticed. Wexford was the only person she registered.
Dressed in a dark green coat and divinely cut breeches, he presented a most alluring portrait of manhood. “Do you really find him so loathsome?” she asked.
“He’s completely intolerable. For an excess of reasons.”
She wanted to argue, but what would be the point? It wasn’t as if he were an actual suitor.
“Ah,thereis an acceptable suitor.” His gaze landed on Glastonbury, who was standing just off the track. The viscount made eye contact with them, inclining his head.
The duke instructed the driver to stop, and Glastonbury made his way to their side.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lady Cassandra, Miss Lancaster. I was hoping I’d see you today.” He said the last directly to Cassandra.
“You did mention that the other night at the rout.” Before he’d left rather quickly.
“I did indeed. How fortuitous that the weather has remained pleasant.”
“What’s this I hear of you in a prizefight?” Cassandra’s father asked.
Surprise flashed in Glastonbury’s clear blue eyes. “You’ve heard of that? I’m participating in a bout as a favor to the owner of my boxing club. I’ve trained with him for years, and he wanted a ‘celebrity’ to fight.”
The duke leaned on the side of the barouche toward Glastonbury. “Are you any good?”
Glastonbury laughed. “How shall I answer that without sounding utterly insufferable?”
Cassandra hadn’t known Glastonbury was a pugilist. She didn’t care for the sport as it typically involved blood. Even thinking about blood made her queasy.
“Honestly, if you will,” the duke responded. “I must know where to lay my wager.” His mouth quirked into a near smile, and Cassandra nearly gaped.
“Then I must confess to being rather accomplished.” He winked at Cassandra, and she again had to keep herself from losing her jaw to the ground. That the viscount had the nerve to flirt like that in front of her father was beyond shocking.
She waited for her father to say something obnoxious. Instead, he laughed.
Helaughed.
“I like you, Glastonbury. A man with confidence is a man who knows himself and his worth. I shall look forward to your fight. Don’t disappoint me, eh?”
“I would never.”
Cassandra felt as if she should speak but simply could not. Her father’s behavior was too startling.
“I do hope you plan to call soon,” her father said crisply. “Don’t dawdle too long or you’ll miss your chance. There are things to discuss.” He then told the driver to move on.
Glastonbury gave her a beautiful courtly bow. “I’ll call soon, my lady.”
Cassandra waited until they were out of Glastonbury’s earshot before turning toward her father. “What does that mean, ‘things to discuss?’ That sounded as if you wanted to negotiate terms.”
“I do. I meant what I said—he mustn’t dally. If he wants to wed you, he should make himself known.”
