Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Lady Honora laughed, unbalancing Cassandra by her sudden change in tone.
“You truly don’t know about the wager? The entire ton is talking about it.”
“What wager?” Cassandra snapped.
A victorious smile crossed Lady Honora’s face, and she said sweetly, “Why, the one that Mr. Reeves and Colonel Bishop made for your virginity, of course.”
Pins broke Cassandra’s skin with her sharp inhalation. Controlling her breathing, she smothered the seed of doubt even as it took root. Lady Honora was lying. Cassandra knew that because… “Seth would never.”
“We all watched him do it.” She ensured she had Cassandra’s full attention before she continued, “During the target competition, Mr. Reeves and Colonel Bishop made a wager that whoever made the final shot would win the right to ‘bed’ you. They shook hands on it in front of everyone.”
The memory flashed in her mind, and yes, she had seen the moment Lady Honora was referring to.
When she thought Seth and Colonel Bishop might come to blows on the range.
A handshake, a rush of movement, a shot from a rifle…
and Seth pursued her outright. Kissed her in a field, in a glasshouse, in her bedchamber, when he had never shown an interest before. That wasn’t because of a wager… was it?
Seth loved her.
…didn’t he?
With a determined set to her shoulders, she locked her gaze onto Lady Honora’s. “You’re wrong.”
“Ask him,” she said flippantly. “Ask anyone.”
Cassandra straightened her spine. Lady Honora was wrong. But voices and memories coiled, branching deeply under her skin. “At least they’re being friendly,” Matthew said. Colonel Bishop said, “A deal is a deal.”
But Seth said, “I love you.”
“I don’t need to ask anyone anything. I trust him.”
Lady Honora stepped closer. “How is that trust working out for you, now? He ruined you over a bet, and you played right into it.” With another scoff, she said, “It doesn’t matter how many doors Lord Bolderwood opens for you, you’ll never be welcome in any of them. You’re a disgrace.”
Disgraced.
Yes.
That was what she was now.
Deplorable, disgraced, ruined.
Baseless and malicious gossip like this would plague her for the rest of her life.
Lady Honora and the rest of society would make sport of her however they could.
It didn’t matter what she did, what she said, or how she acted.
No amount of work or effort, no amount of groveling or politics could fix her reputation.
She had fallen to the rock bottom rung of society.
There was something freeing in that.
“You know what I think?” Cassandra matched Lady Honora’s sneer and delivered her next comment with a smile. “I think you’re jealous.”
“I’m to be a Countess.” Lady Honora’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have influence, and respect, something you’ll never have.”
Cassandra cemented her own victorious smirk and sang, “I think that you will thrive in high society, Lady Worthing. You will stand tall knowing you did things the right way, with a titled husband and titled children. Other ladies will cower in fear before you.” She stood tall.
“But not me. Because I’ll know that you’ll have everything you wanted and still be miserable.
” Cassandra continued speaking over Lady Honora’s indignant retorts, “It’ll infuriate you every time you see me across a ballroom, because you’ll know that in one regard, I am better than you.
You’ll lay in your bed alone every night, while I’m sleeping happily next to a man who loves me. Something you’ll never ha—”
Lady Honora slapped her, reflected a hundred times in the mirrors surrounding them.
Cassandra stumbled. Her dress ripped as she slipped from the pedestal and fell to the ground in a heap.
Stunned, she brought a shaking hand to her face, hot and smarting.
On her hands and knees, she met Lady Honora’s horrified eyes, staring at her own hand in shock.
With a chorus of alarmed cries, Aunt Valentine and Lady Sherborne rushed between them.
“Honora!” Lady Sherborne hauled Lady Honora away. Words spilling forth, she said, “Lady Dorchester, Miss Cooper, please accept my sincerest apologies! She has never been violent. I don’t know what has gotten into her!”
After helping Cassandra to her feet, Aunt Valentine held her face in her hands, inspecting the damage.
Pins dug into her side, piercing her skin, and she hastily started tugging them out before Madame Fournier came forward to assist. Lady Sherborne surveyed Cassandra, and the blood drained from her face.
“You’ll extend our apologies to the Earl, as well?” she asked Aunt Valentine cautiously. “No actual harm was done, after all. Girls will be girls.”
“None of my girls have ever assaulted someone.” Aunt Valentine glowered at her and tucked Cassandra under her arm.
“I’m sure the Earl will have much to say if she arrives at the church with a blackened eye.
As will my husband, who cares for her as if she were his own.
I’ll pray this doesn’t leave a mark, for your sake, Lady Sherborne. You should do the same.”
Apologies cascaded from her mouth while Lady Honora looked down at the ground, as if she had been the one struck. Lady Sherborne fled with Lady Honora from the boutique. Her shouting voice echoed down the street as she berated her daughter.
While Cassandra stared dazedly, Madame Fournier assured Aunt Valentine that Cassandra’s dress would be ready on time, even with the damage from the altercation.
With an appointment set for Wednesday, they emerged from the boutique into a misty afternoon.
The crisp air chilled the hot throbbing on her left cheek.
Cassandra glanced at her reflection in the shop window, seeing even less of herself than she did before.
Gingerly, she brought her gloved fingers to the swelling.
“Do you believe it will bruise?”
“No.” Aunt Valentine took her hand and squeezed. “It should fade completely by tomorrow morning.”
At least there was that. It wouldn’t do to arrive battered and bruised to her wedding. Seth had that part covered. What a pair we make. A hopelessness came over her and she sighed. She believed what she said to Lady Honora, that she would be happy and loved, but she couldn’t have it all.
“I don’t think my reputation can be redeemed, Aunt Valentine.”
With the handle of her umbrella, Aunt Valentine tapped Cassandra’s chin.
“Leave that to me. All you need to do is keep your head up,” she instructed.
“Never let them see you falter. We’ll take this one day at a time.
Now, let’s find Jasmine and Caroline. We’ll cut through Hyde Park and get you home.
A walk will lift your spirits, and with any luck, the cool air will help with the redness.
We can’t have you return home like this, your brother will be furious. ”
She didn’t have the heart to tell Aunt Valentine that it didn’t matter. Matthew wouldn’t be there. And even if he were, he wouldn’t care. Cassandra didn’t have any honor left to defend. But if Lady Honora was right—no. Cassandra pushed down the rising doubt. Lady Honora was wrong.
Seth would never.