Page 87 of Intolerable
“What’s going on?” Sabrina asked. Her gaze was dark with worry, and she seemed to be holding her tongue. She glanced toward Prudence, and Cassandra understood what was happening.
Sabrina wanted to ask what had happened between her and Ruark. The last she knew they’d been kissing in her cupboard. However, she didn’t want to discuss such things in front of Prudence, as evidenced by her asking to speak with Cassandra alone last week following the kiss.
“It’s all right,” Cassandra said. “Prudence knows all about what happened at my birthday party. I’m not associating with Wexford any longer.”
Someone else came into the retiring room, cutting off further conversation.
Cassandra straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.” She was more than eager to leave. Part of her wanted to go home, but again, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
In the moment that she’d stared at him in the drawing room, she’d seen a flurry of emotion in his eyes—regret, sadness, and perhaps even a glimmer of love.
When they were on their way downstairs, she leaned toward Prudence and whispered, “What did he do when I left?”
“He looked as though someone had kicked him in a very sensitive place.”
Cassandra appreciated Prudence’s dash of humor to lighten her mood. “He was pained?”
“Exceedingly.”
“Good.”
They collected their wraps and went to the waiting coach.
“Shall we return home?” Prudence asked.
“No. Let us go on to the next rout,” Cassandra insisted.
The coachman opened the door, and Cassandra climbed in first. She instantly gasped for sitting on the rear-facing seat was none other than the Earl of Wexford.
“What are you doing in my coach?” she demanded angrily.
“Isn’t it Aldington’s coach?” he asked.
“Don’t be an ass.” She glared at him then smirked. “Too late.” Because it would be awkward to back out of the coach, she sat down opposite him. “Get out.”
“What?” Sabrina asked in shock as her head poked into the coach. She gasped as Cassandra had. “Wexford! What are you doing in here?”
He turned his head toward the door. “I must speak with Lady Cassandra. Just for a moment. May I?”
Sabrina looked to Cassandra in question. Cassandra wanted to throw him out. And she would—after she told him exactly what she thought of him. Looking to Sabrina, she said, “Would you mind waiting outside for a minute? Leave the door open for propriety.” She turned her gaze to his, hoping she appeared icy and annoyed. “This won’t take long.”
He sat forward, moving to the edge of the seat so that his knees came far too close. Cassandra plastered herself back to the squab. Her heart raced as if the devil were chasing it.
“I had to apologize. I owe you that much.” He sounded so earnest. It was difficult to remain cool and unaffected.
“You lied to me. I don’t want your apologies. I want the truth.”
“I should have told you all of it.”
“The other women, you mean. The women you loved and left.”
His face creased with distress. “Because of the promise I made my father. Which seemed to be prophetic because, yes, my love for them wasn’t permanent.”
“You weren’t lying about the vow you made?” She had to ask.
He paled. “Of course not. Is that what you think?”
“What am I supposed to think when you give me half-truths?” She took a calming breath and lowered her voice, realizing she was speaking too loudly so that they’d be overheard. Not that she cared because she’d tell Prudence and Sabrina what transpired. “I wanted to believe you.”
