Chapter Twelve
“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Jasmine whined. “I said I would help you, but really Cassandra, this is taking it too far.”
“It never hurts to have more friends.”
“It hurts when it’s those types of friends.” Jasmine frowned. “Lady Samantha has never liked us.”
“She’s never said that.”
“We’ve never liked her,” Jasmine corrected. “And I don’t want to start now.”
The guests met the style competition with considerably less enthusiasm than the target competition, as everyone could see that Mr. Nott’s rifle far bested his competitors.
Instead, many used the time as a free block in their day to mingle in the drawing room, taking shelter in the cool brick from the unseasonably warm weather outdoors.
Half of Cooper House could have fit within the expansive room.
The vaulted ceiling featured intricate plasterwork, with a brass chandelier at its center.
Floating shards of crystal met daylight from the Palladian windows at the side of the room, causing rainbow reflections to dance along the pale blue walls and pastel furniture, a stark contrast to the rich reds that made up most of Hollingsworth Manor.
None of the guests looked more like they belonged in the room than Lady Samantha Penrose.
Poised at a white grand piano, she playfully strummed the keys to Mozart’s Sonata Facile.
She complimented her surroundings in a dress that matched her cornflower eyes.
Golden hair cascaded over her shoulder in loose ringlets.
A demure smile rested on her face, even as her sharp eyes scanned the room intently.
Noticing their approach, her smile widened in an almost friendly manner.
It felt like walking into a lion’s den, but if Cassandra expected to have any success during the next season, she needed powerful allies. Lady Samantha, Lady Honora, and Miss Georgiana could make or break her reputation with a word.
“Good afternoon Lady Honora, Miss Georgiana,” Cassandra said. “May we join you?”
“Oh, yes, please do!” Miss Georgiana said. The petite, red-haired girl gave her a wide smile and patted the space next to her on the settee.
Lady Honora gave them a cold, dignified nod that seemed to say, ‘if you must’. Her tightly pinned brown hair stretched her brows into thin lines.
“We’re all taking turns at the piano.” Miss Georgiana smiled. “Lady Honora is next, but then the two of you can play.”
“I’m after Lady Honora. I know the perfect song,” Jasmine said, flashing a grin.
Cassandra eyed her warily before turning to the others. “Have you been enjoying yourselves?”
“Yes!” Miss Georgiana clapped her hands. “Lord Bolderwood is an impeccable host. We’ve been having a wonderful time, especially with the Lancasters. They’re both so lively!”
Cassandra doubted Lord Worthing’s ‘liveliness,’ considering the volume of his snores after he dozed off in a chair next to the main fireplace the night before.
“It’s been productive,” Lady Honora said, glancing to the other side of the room where Lord Worthing stood with her parents, Lord Sherborne and his wife, Prudence. Their gazes occasionally drifted to their daughter as they spoke.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of their acquaintance,” Cassandra said. “What are they like?”
“Fine,” Lady Honora clipped.
“Perfectly respectable,” Miss Georgiana said smoothly. “Lord Worthing is a true gentleman, and Mr. Lancaster has some work to do in that regard, but I believe he will manage in time.”
“He’s too excitable,” Lady Honora complained. “Any time Colonel Bishop walks into the room he acts like an untrained pup, he does the same with Mr. Reeves—whenever he bothers to grace us with his presence.”
“Personally, I find it difficult not to swoon over either of them.” Jasmine fluttered her fan as if she were on the verge of overheating.
Lady Honora shot her a glare, but Jasmine leaned in close to a giggling Miss Georgiana.
“What are they putting in those rations? Mama is wasting her time in British ballrooms, she should be on the front lines!”
With a flourish and a smile, Lady Samantha finished her song to assorted clapping from the room. Lady Honora rose to her feet, took over at the bench, and rustled through a collection of sheet music. Lady Samantha sat next to Cassandra and clasped her hands.
“Miss Cooper, it’s been too long,” Samantha greeted her as if their paths hadn’t crossed a half-dozen times in the past few days. “It must be terrifying to be out in society again. A lot has changed in your absence, and you struggled so much before. You have my deepest sympathies.”
Cassandra forced a smile. “That is very kind.”
Samantha released Cassandra’s hands, turned to face Jasmine, and whispered, “Lady Jasmine, you must tell me who is on your mother’s list.”
As much as Cassandra had doubted her methods, Aunt Valentine’s list had become a hot topic of conversation.
A consummate businesswoman, Aunt Valentine knew how to use scarcity to her benefit.
Add in a dash of mystery and she had the gossips eating out of her hand.
Even gentlemen completely uninterested in marriage were slightly curious whether they made the cut for Lord Dorchester’s one and only daughter.
“Lord Lincolnshire is one name,” Miss Georgiana said as Lady Honora played Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. “I overheard at the target competition yesterday.”
“Yes.” Jasmine exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Mama’s standards drop every day that she doesn’t have a grandchild.”
Cassandra held back a smile.
“You know who is on the list, don’t you Miss Cooper?” Lady Samantha switched tactics. “Please, one name!”
Feeling mischievous herself, Cassandra whispered into Lady Samantha’s ear, “Lord Worthing.”
“Hmph.” Lady Samantha turned to Lady Honora, who was halfway finished with her song, before she whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I believe that Lord Worthing is going to propose to Honora.”
After Lady Honora finished, Jasmine took her place on the bench.
Not bothering with sheet music, she forcefully pressed down on the keys, increased the tempo, and stomped her foot on the ground with the beat.
Guests in the room cringed at the disorder of the piece.
A few more sensible ladies left rather than subject themselves to the noise.
“I don’t recognize this song.” Miss Georgiana tilted her head, as if getting the angle right would help with her recall.
“It’s a sea-shanty.” Cassandra smiled through terse lips. “Spanish Ladies.”
“How fitting,” Lady Honora muttered.
“Oh, it’s working,” Lady Samantha exclaimed. “She’s summoned a sailor! What a clever girl!”
With a soft smile on his face, Commodore Leopold approached the piano. Summoned appeared to be the correct word choice, as it didn’t take long for the sailor to sing along in a deep bass.
“Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain…”
“On the topic of military men, I must ask you about Mr. Reeves.” Lady Samantha had to raise her volume. “Is he everything that the pamphlets make him out to be?”
“What pamphlets?” Cassandra asked.
“See?” Lady Samantha turned to Lady Honora with a smirk. “I told you she didn’t know.”
“Please don’t take offense,” Miss Georgiana tittered.
“We didn’t know until Mr. Lancaster told us.
You know the pamphlets that peddlers sell for a penny?
Some of them have stories about soldiers—generals, mostly.
They’re quite popular among the lower classes.
None more popular than Mr. Reeves, if Mr. Lancaster is to be believed.
Mr. Reeves had six pamphlets written about him, ten pages each! ”
“The Gallant Exploits of Captain Seth Reeves,” Lady Samantha cackled. “He never mentioned it?”
“No.” She grinned. Mr. Reeves, famous. Oh, how he would hate that. “What do they say?”
“Tales of heroism, daring-do’s, whatever else it is that young boys find interesting,” Lady Samantha said flippantly.
“I would love to read about his daring-do’s! It’s very romantic, and how he waltzes.” Miss Georgiana’s voice took on a dreamy, wispy tone. “Every girl dreams of a hero to sweep her off of her feet.”
“I don’t,” Cassandra and Lady Honora said in tandem, then shared a smile. That might be the first time we’ve ever agreed on something.
“We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors! We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt seas!” Jasmine and Commodore Leopold sang, the Commodore tapping his toes to the beat.
“Nobody wants a bastard to sweep her off her feet.” Lady Honora huffed. “Especially one that has to be dragged onto the ballroom floor. You poor thing, you must have been humiliated. It might bring you comfort to know that Mr. Reeves was equally forced into that waltz as you were.”
“Forced?” Cassandra’s jaw dropped. “Neither of us were—”
“Oh, no one is judging you!” Lady Samantha said hurriedly.
“We’ve all been in a position to dance with someone unfavorable, but neither of you are truly at fault.
Your brother asked Mr. Reeves three times to dance with you.
He clearly didn’t want to participate in Lord Lincolnshire’s… what was the word? Oh yes, sabotage.”
“Are you certain you heard correctly?” Cassandra asked, reeling, because Matthew wouldn’t—
“We heard all of it at the refreshment table. It sounded like your brother was trying to prevent Colonel Bishop from asking you to dance!” Miss Georgiana chimed in.
Iron-hot embarrassment boiled within her.
I should have known! Matthew promised her he wouldn’t interfere, but it was another one of his lies.
It stung equally that Mr. Reeves was enabling her brother.
A knot formed in her throat. Of course, of course, he only asked her to dance to help Matthew thwart Colonel Bishop.
And this morning, was that more of the same? Keeping her busy so she wouldn’t fawn over their competition? Neither he nor Matthew had the right! She felt like a toy being thrown from one child to the next in a game of keep-away.