Page 37 of Intolerable
“How unfortunate.”
“Thankfully, Papa understood my reservations. He said he could understand why I would prefer Glastonbury. He actually called himsuave. Can you imagine?” She giggled.
Prudence smiled before sipping her chocolate. “Well, he is that. Did you tell the duke you waltzed?”
“Heavens, no. He would be scandalized, even if it was with the gentleman to whom he’s so desperately trying to marry me off.” Cassandra pursed her lips. “Or not. He said ‘if things don’t progress’ with regard to the viscount today, so it seems he’s open to other possibilities. He even mentioned Lord Gregory Blakemore.”
“But he’s in mourning.”
“Papa thinks he’ll be back on the Marriage Mart soon. I can’t imagine a courtship with him, not after he courted my best friend.”
“Yes, that would seem a trifle awkward. But then you are flirting with yourbrother’sbest friend.” Prudence glanced toward the tulips before sliding her an inquisitive glance.
“Do you have a question?”
“You were in the garden with him last night for some time. I confess I looked out the window at one point and couldn’t see you.”
Cassandra arched a brow, half smiling in amusement. “Did you?”
“It’s my job as your companion to ensure you follow the rules of propriety.” Prudence looked down at her cup. “I realize I don’t always succeed, and I apologize for that.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize. You are an excellent companion, Pru. I was outside for such a long time last night because I, er, fainted. Briefly.”
Prudence’s pale gaze flew to Cassandra’s. “What happened? Why didn’t you say anything? We should have gone directly to the retiring room. I really am a terrible companion.”
“Why, because you aren’t a mind reader?” Cassandra laughed. “Please stop thinking you aren’t wonderful. Wexford was telling me about boxing—Glastonbury is a pugilist—and he mentioned blood.” All humor dissipated as Cassandra swallowed against the agitation rising in her throat. “I, ah, can’t stand the sight of blood, and apparently the mention of it can summon a similar queasy response.”
Prudence looked at her in warm sympathy. “I had no idea. That’s awful. What happened when you fainted?”
“Lord Wexford carried me to a bench—I was aware of that. It wasn’t very illuminated, which is likely why you couldn’t see us. When I felt better, we came back inside.”
“I’m glad you didn’t fall down. You could have hurt yourself.”
Cassandra couldn’t see Wexford allowing that to happen. He’d acted the hero in every way. That was why she was even more obsessed with him, she realized. Now she could add heroic to his list of attributes, which was already quite long: charming, handsome, sympathetic, witty, caring, considering, kind…stop!
“I was fine,” Cassandra assured her.
“You seemed perfectly normal when you came back inside. I would never have guessed that happened as I watched you promenade with Glastonbury afterward. Indeed, you appeared to be having a lovely time. Do you think you might suit?”
“I still don’t know.” Because Wexford was taking up too much space in her brain!
Prudence grimaced briefly. “If he enters into negotiations with the duke when he calls this week, you could be on a path with only one destination.”
“Marriage to Glastonbury.” Cassandra had considered that. “Why does this all need to move so quickly? Can’t I have a nice, long courtship? There’s a good two months—or more—left of this Season.”
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
“I don’t either.” Cassandra plucked a roll from the basket and nibbled the edge.
Next time she saw Glastonbury, perhaps tonight, she’d express her desire for an extended courtship—in an indirect way, of course. She didn’t want to give him the idea that their union was inevitable.
Not when she kept thinking of having a courtship with someone else.
Fred, the owner of the Black Boar, intercepted Ruark as he stepped out of the changing room. “I hear you want to fight in my prizefight.” He spoke quietly, his voice deep and raspy.
Mort must have spoken to him. Ruark nodded. “I’m interested.”
“You can fight in the earlier one.”
