Page 92 of Intolerable
Fred applied more pressure. “You told Mort you’d do it if I couldn’t find anyone.”
Yes, he had, and he was a man of his word. Plus, Ruark loved boxing. Could he give it up for her? He imagined a life without fighting and realized it was nothing compared to a life without her. One last fight.
“I’ll do it.”
Fred exhaled loudly. “Thank you.” Fred crammed his hat over his nearly bald head. “Be in Croydon by two.” He turned and stalked out before Ruark could argue. If he had to be in Croydon by two, he couldn’t very well call on Cassandra. He could, however, send her something.
Anticipation curled through Ruark as he turned to his desk. Sitting down, he pulled out parchment and dipped his pen into the inkwell. “Let’s see if my poetry is any better than my father’s,” he murmured with a smile.
Dressed in her finest day gown, with her birthday garnet adorning her throat, Cassandra went to the drawing room ready to meet the callers who would arrive soon. She stopped short upon entering, for the largest flower arrangement she’d ever seen graced the round table near the windows. In fact, it took up the entire top.
Cassandra went to the flowers, a smile curling her lips, and found a folded piece of parchment under the arching floral arms of the arrangement. Opening the missive, she realized at once it wasn’t from Glastonbury.
My dearest Cass,
I love you. Not just now, forever. How do I know this?
I am desperate when I’m not with you
Your humor and friendship are true
You make me smile and laugh
Your wit is greater by half
And my future without you is blue.
As you can see, I am not a poet.
Cassandra paused in reading to giggle.
I am, however, your eternal love.
She sucked in a breath, her heart beating hard and fast.
I know this because I have never bared myself to anyone the way I have with you. I have never felt the soul-deep connection that I believe we share—I hope we share. I have given you no reason to trust me, and I understand if you are hesitant. But know that I love you with every part of my being and that I will until the end of time. Please don’t agree to marry anyone else. I will call on you tomorrow.
Yours completely,
Ruark
She read it again and then a third time, devouring the words as if she hadn’t had sustenance in days.
“That is quite a spectacular arrangement of flowers,” Prudence said, joining her at the table.
“They’re from Ruark.” Cassandra touched one of the blooms, a pale pink rose. Then she handed his note to Prudence.
Prudence was quiet while she read. “He is aterriblepoet.” She looked over at Cassandra. “Are you happy?”
“So happy,” Cassandra said softly. “But why didn’t he come today?”
“He must be occupied?” Prudence suggested.
He had to be. So he’d sent flowers and the wonderful note, specifically asking her not to become betrothed. Did that mean he meant to propose? It seemed so.
Prudence handed the note back to Cassandra. “How is he suddenly so certain he loves you and that his love isn’t fleeting?”
“You think I can’t trust him?” Cassandra asked.
