Chapter Twelve #2
How much fun they must be having at my expense!
“The way they treat the Colonel is abhorrent. It looked like Mr. Reeves was going to strike him yesterday at the match,” Lady Samantha clucked.
Lady Honora pursed her lips. “I despise a man that cannot control his temper.”
“Mr. Reeves doesn’t have a temper,” Cassandra defended him, but even as she said the words, they sounded untrue.
Mr. Reeves did possess a temper, and this was the first time that he revealed it to her.
Barely controlled rage lay under his surface, held back by a thread.
Each time he was around Colonel Bishop, that thread was on the verge of snapping.
For both men, really. If they were ever alone with each other, Cassandra was positive that they would tear each other to pieces.
“I heard him and your brother yelling at each other in the hall before breakfast!” Miss Georgiana cut in. “It sounded like they were brawling!”
Brawling?!
“In an Earl’s Manor?” Lady Samantha scoffed, but then giggled. “What brutes! Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Miss Cooper, your family never fails to entertain.”
“You must be mistaken. My brother and Mr. Reeves never even argue, they wouldn’t brawl.
” Cassandra twisted her hands in her lap.
Only one recent event would enrage Matthew enough to go to blows with his best friend, and that was if he had seen them embracing in the library.
But no, he couldn’t have! They were far enough away from each other when Matthew stepped into the room.
He had been annoyed, certainly, but not violently so.
Mr. Reeves’ temper may have been on a short fuse, but Matthew never lost his composure.
And nothing happened for him to be upset over!
A lady couldn’t be compromised by a man rubbing his thumb over her lip. Right? Or holding her close, running his hands over her back, kissing her hair—a flush rose to her face. Yes, she certainly could, and that would be the one justification for Matthew to attack anyone.
Even Mr. Reeves.
Had Matthew seen? Or maybe—Cassandra paled—had Mr. Reeves confessed?
“I don’t see why the Earl tolerates it,” Lady Honora said. “I saw Mr. Reeves this morning, he wasn’t even dressed. Bastard or no, it’s disrespectful to the rest of us.”
“They say that he’s not the Earl’s son at all, but an orphan he kidnapped and locked away so that he could create the perfect soldier,” Miss Georgiana continued, voice low and spooky as if she were telling a ghost story.
“Where do you hear nonsense like that?” Lady Honora snorted.
“‘Orphan’ is a delicate way to explain infidelity, Georgie. It’s fashionable to adopt a ward, but it’s a downright disgrace to raise a bastard.
If it is true, the Earl’s favoritism will disqualify your brother, Miss Cooper, I’m sorry to say. ”
But Lady Honora didn’t sound sorry in the slightest.
“Which is it, Miss Cooper? Is he an orphan, or a by-blow?” Lady Samantha asked, as if she were asking, ‘one lump of sugar, or two?’
Cassandra held her hands tight in her lap.
“I don’t know.”
The ladies erupted in giggles.
“Of course she wouldn’t say,” Lady Samantha said to Lady Honora, as if Cassandra hadn’t been sitting next to her.
Cassandra’s brain churned with the barrage of new information and the frustration at not being able to answer such a simple question.
During their fourteen years of knowing each other, she had not once thought to ask Mr. Reeves about his parents.
During those summers he spent with her family, he fell in with the Coopers so completely that it was easy to forget that he came from somewhere else. But not just anywhere else.
Here, in Hollingsworth Manor.
Even without him saying so, she knew it was true.
He was entirely too comfortable shirking rules of etiquette, and he didn’t seem to care one bit what others—including his host —thought of him.
It wasn’t only disrespect, but unflattering rebelliousness.
Mr. Reeves held such animosity towards Lord Bolderwood that it shadowed everything else, including the contest itself.
It reflected poorly on Matthew, Cassandra, and the Earl, and in ways, Mr. Reeves’ actions seemed deliberate.
Whatever happened in this manor must have been horrible, but thinking about it only made her head swim with more questions.
“… from Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.” Jasmine finished at the piano and came to join them, Commodore Leopold at her side. He bowed to the ladies and seated himself in an armchair.
“My theory is that the Earl found Mr. Reeves in the forest,” Jasmine said conspiratorially. “I hear that he sleeps outside like a wild-man!”
“You’re so refreshing, Lady Jasmine,” Lady Samantha simpered.
“You must join us for tea this afternoon, you’re welcome to join us as well, Commodore.
Perhaps you can serenade us with a few sea shanties of your own.
” She turned to Cassandra. “You as well, Miss Cooper. Meet us in the yellow drawing room on the second floor at five o’clock.
You know the one, it’s right next door to the library. ”
In the manner of a poacher waiting for an exotic animal to ensnare itself in her trap, Lady Samantha waited for her response. But it was in that moment that Matthew walked into the room. He took a slow look around, noticed Cassandra, and approached.
“Ladies.” Matthew bowed to them, then turned to greet Commodore Leopold. “Commodore.”
“Who won the style competition?” Jasmine asked.
“Mr. Nott.” He smiled ruefully. “Naturally.”
“Will you sit with us, Lord Lincolnshire?” Lady Honora asked, fluttering her fan closer to her chest.
“Alas, no, to my regret. I have other matters to attend to.” Matthew looked sincerely remorseful. Liar. “Cassandra, might I have a word?”
A quiver of apprehension ran through her, but she nodded. “You’ll have to excuse me, ladies, Commodore.”
Commodore Leopold stood as she did, and settled back down in the chair next to Jasmine, who shot her a questioning glance. As Cassandra tucked her arm into her brother’s, she noticed an interested gleam and an unspoken communication occur between Lady Samantha and Lady Honora.
Cassandra fought a groan and struggled to keep her face neutral.
That hadn’t gone well for her at all.
Matthew led her from the drawing room and walked down the hall until he found an empty room. Guiding her inside, he closed the door and breathed out a broken sigh.
“I need to talk to you about Reeves,” he said without preamble.
Cassandra took to the offensive.
“Were you brawling with him?”
“No,” Matthew said too quickly, darting his gaze from hers. During the movement, his collar shifted enough to reveal a sickeningly dark purple mark forming on the side of his neck. Whatever happened that morning, someone had gotten violent.
Liar.
Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest.
“Miss Georgiana said that you were.”
“She’s wrong,” Matthew said flatly and then stayed silent, as if sorting through his thoughts.
“I’m going to be direct, sister.” Cassandra waited for the axe to drop, but Matthew surprised her by saying, “You need to help me with Reeves while we’re here.
I know you like to bicker, but be nice. He’s having a hard time, I’m sure you can tell.
I can’t do this by myself. I thought I would be able to, but it’s…
a lot.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He needs to sleep, Cassandra.”
Why would he need her help? Unless….
“Are you directly sabotaging me, Matthew?” Cassandra asked, hurt tinging her voice.
“No.” Matthew met her eyes and said through his teeth, “I am trying very hard to not get involved, in any of your business, as I promised.”
Liar.
“I’m too busy to mother Mr. Reeves.” Cassandra glared at him. “I have my own goals, and you’re getting in the way of them as we speak.”
“Cassandra.” Viscount Lincolnshire used her brother’s voice, warning and authoritative.
“Remember that winning the contest takes precedence over whatever social agenda or marriage match that you think you can make here. When I succeed in my goal, it will only make it that much easier for you to succeed in yours. To do that, I need to make sure that my partner doesn’t succumb to madness. ”
“I don’t know how you expect me to help.” Cassandra huffed.
“Do what you were doing in the library this morning.”
“What?”
“Talk to him.” Matthew clenched his jaw and spoke slowly and evenly. “About plants, or home, give him etiquette lessons, anything to get his mind off being here. If he loses control, we won’t win this contest. Please work with me.”
“I can’t make him sleep,” Cassandra whispered. Thinking back to Mr. Reeves’ bloodshot eyes, how worn down he was, his discomfort in the crowds, and the gossip concerning him.
Locked away.
Cassandra had lied to Matthew right now, too.
She had gotten Mr. Reeves to fall asleep.
Though with his level of exhaustion, she could hardly take credit.
Still, he dropped his guard with her. But she couldn’t watch over him as he slept, read to him, or talk to him alone and the thought caused a heavy feeling in her chest that felt like sadness, but that wasn’t quite it.
It was powerlessness.
“I know that, sis. But what you can do is help me distract him. We’re the only family that he has. He needs us.”
Matthew may have been asking her nicely, but there wasn’t an option for her to refuse.
And part of her wanted to comfort Mr. Reeves, to brush the hair back from his face, and make him laugh in the same way that he had that morning.
It tortured her to see him wasting away, as if the air in the manor was slowly poisoning him, and she saw the truth in Matthew’s words.
They couldn’t win, not at this rate. She couldn’t forget that she was as much a part of the team as Mr. Reeves was, and she understood her role.
Support.
Resigned, Cassandra sighed.
“What do you want me to do?”
Matthew’s face lit up, and a relieved sigh of his own escaped his lips.
“You’re not going to like it, but here’s what I’m thinking….”