Page 43 of Intolerable
Lucien barked out a laugh. “Is this punishment for all the times we refused to play with you when we said we were too old to play such games?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “You owe me.”
“She’s going to be collecting for a long time,” Constantine said with a chuckle. “And we will pay the debt.
Splendid. Now she knew precisely how she was going to get Wexford alone so she could ask him about his thirty years of age rule.
Why do you care? It’s not as if you would wed him.
Wouldn’t she?
Dinner was an engaging, boisterous affair, in which everyone talked across and up and down the table. Cassandra’s cheeks hurt from laughing. The only drawback had been that Wexford had been too far away. While she’d sat to Constantine’s left, Wexford had sat to the left of Sabrina—who was opposite her husband at the end of the table.
Still, she’d sent many surreptitious glances his way and had caught him doing the same. Now, after several glasses of wine, she’d removed to the parlor with the ladies.
“I do hope they don’t take too long,” Cassandra said, glancing toward the dining room where the gentlemen had remained. “I’m keen to start our game of hide and seek.”
Mrs. Renshaw shared a small settee with Cassandra. “I love that you asked to play.” Her eyes sparkled with glee. “We can all use some youthfulness.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Renshaw, I agree.”
“I think you must call me Evie,” the dark-haired woman said. “We are certainly friends, especially given how we met.”
That was true. After Wexford had left Cassandra in the cupboard at the Phoenix Club, she’d had to remain in the dark for a while in order to regain her equilibrium. That, and she’d been afraid of being discovered in addition to feeling overcome with worry about whatever had happened to Fiona.
When she’d finally worked up the nerve to leave, the door had opened, much to her shock and horror. But it had been Mrs. Renshaw who’d kindly—and urgently—ushered Cassandra to her office on the ladies’ side of the club. There, Cassandra had been reunited with Fiona, who, as Cassandra had later discovered, had enjoyed quite an adventure after veering off in the opposite direction and running straight into her guardian.
“Yes, we are most definitely friends, and you must call me Cassandra. I do appreciate your help that day at the club. I think I said at the time that I regretted our behavior, but seeing as how things turned out for Fiona, I think it must have been Fate that drew us there that day.”
“Perhaps. I’m not sure I believe Fate is that kind.” There was a cynical edge to Evie’s voice. “But I wonder if you think Fate played a hand in what happened with you that day.” She spoke softly so that Cassandra had to lean slightly closer to hear her.
“I think it must have,” Cassandra said in agreement. “Otherwise, I might have been caught.”
“Weren’t you though?” Evie didn’t blink.
Cassandra wasn’t entirely certain what she meant. “By you, you mean.”
“Yes, of course. Though I admit I wondered what happened with you in the time between when you and Fiona parted to when I found you.”
“Nothing,” Cassandra said with perhaps too much haste and an elevated tone. The gentlemen came in then, and she couldn’t help but look toward Wexford as he strode into the parlor, grinning at something MacNair said. He was so handsome it made her chest ache. Her fingers fairly itched to touch that crook in his nose again.
“Nothing at all?” Evie practically whispered.
Cassandra glanced toward her and saw that she was also looking toward Wexford. Did she know? How could she?
Forcing a laugh, Cassandra smoothed her hand over her forehead. “I was alone in a cupboard, petrified that I would be discovered at any moment.”
There was a long pause during which Cassandra felt a bit warm before Evie said, “If you ever need help again, as you did that day, I hope you’ll ask.”
Because, like Lucien, she offered support where it was required. And for some reason, she thought Cassandra might need that.
“Thank you,” Cassandra said a bit uneasily. Perhaps Evie did know. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I promise that anything you confide in me or any help you seek will be kept strictly between us.” Her gaze riveted onto Cassandra so that she could not look away. “I firmly believe in the sanctity of friendship, especially among women. We must stick together.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.” For the second time that night, Cassandra’s throat tried to close with emotion. It had been years since she’d had any friends. Girls that she’d known in her youth had all had their Seasons—supervised by their mothers—and wed, while Cassandra had preferred to remain at home. Without her mother to launch her in Society, the prospect had seemed daunting. Cassandra had envied those friends and their perfect Seasons.
Now she had Fiona and Prudence and Sabrina—and Evie, apparently.
