Chapter Six
Cassandra managed to regain her wits, scraping together some semblance of composure.
But inside, she burned with questions and confusion.
As Sidlow silently worked resetting the pins in her hair, Cassandra stared at her reflection, noting the flushed glow of her skin and the spark of life in the depths of her eyes.
What in the devil had she done?
Reuben Evans was not who he appeared to be.
His absurd claims about James had left her shaken and hollow, but she’d known her late husband had had secrets buried with him.
Never in her wildest imagination had she thought they would rise from beyond the grave to haunt her still.
But Evans had known exactly where and how to uncover these threads of her husband’s past. What else did he know and how?
More importantly, she longed to understand his motivation behind his obsession with her husband.
Was it his intention to bring ruin upon her family? Upon her son? The sins of the father would certainly be irrevocably harmful to her son if they came to light. The scandal alone would tarnish his legacy. Fear permeated her very soul.
Evans held the power to reveal her husband’s sordid past. But would he?
Conflicted between fear and self-preservation, Cassandra had meant it when she’d told him to leave.
But deep in her heart, she felt the stirring of indecision and torment.
In all the years Evans had worked in their household, he’d never once indicated that he’d had any intention of causing harm or bringing ruin upon them. Quite the contrary.
Evans had always made her feel safe and protected. He cared for her in ways no one else seemed capable of doing. Her skin warmed at the memory of his touch. His kiss. The pleasure he’d wrought from her with no expectations—no regrets.
Or did he regret what they had done?
Cassandra bit her lip, letting the pressure of her teeth pinch the tender skin. How could she be sure without talking to him?
“Your guests await, Your Grace,” Sidlow said, stepping away.
She had not even realized the maid had finished resetting her hair. If Sidlow knew what had transpired between herself and Evans, she gave no indication. With a bow, Sidlow left the room, giving Cassandra an opportunity to compose her thoughts.
There would be time enough this evening to speak with Evans about what she’d uncovered in the study. Not only about her late husband, but herself.
Standing, Cassandra smoothed her hands over her bodice and skirts. To the casual observer, nothing seemed amiss. But glimpsing herself in a new light, Cassandra felt the residual hum of pleasure and desire. Her stomach fluttered at the vivid memories lingering in her mind.
Evans ignited a flame inside her. A passion she’d never believed existed.
The entirety of her marriage had been dedicated to conceding to her husband’s will, to his pleasures.
But Evans had taken something she’d long believed absent and brought it into the light.
Cassandra burned with this new revelation and it left her unsteady.
How could she possibly face the other widows in such a conflicted state? It was not something she could share openly. But was she alone in this? How did the others cope with their unspoken desires? Or did they even recognize them?
With a soft curse, Cassandra snatched up her gloves and a fan. As she ventured toward the parlor, she focused on steadying her breath and schooling her features into a more dignified demeanor.
Evans had left her with more questions than answers and a sense of hyper awareness.
Pausing outside the parlor, Cassandra inhaled deeply and purged him from her mind. Inside the room, three curious faces turned in her direction. The ladies rose to their feet and curtsied.
“Lady Corby. Lady Winstead. Lady Amesbury.” Cassandra inclined her head in greeting. “Please forgive my tardiness. The time completely escaped me.” She gestured to sit. “Welcome.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace.” Lady Corby sat first, her hands demurely in her lap. “We were delighted when we received it.” She offered Cassandra a small bouquet of flowers. “From my conservatory.”
“How thoughtful.” Cassandra smiled at the unfamiliar kindness. No one had ever recognized her for herself. It had always been for her station, her connections, her husband.
“Have we arrived too soon?” Lady Winstead asked. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”
“Oh.” Cassandra waved her hand. “Not at all. You are a welcome distraction.”
“‘Distraction’?” Lady Corby selected the word with care. “Has something happened?”
Cassandra silently regarded the three ladies in turn before sighing. She could not bear the burden alone. Surely, they might have some insight, some words of wisdom to impart to soothe her flustered state.
“I have recently uncovered some rather”—Cassandra cleared her throat and shifted slightly, twisting her hands together—“disturbing documents in my husband’s private collection.”
The three ladies exchanged glances, wrinkling their noses and shifting closer. Finally, Lady Corby spoke.
“And these documents, are they of a sensitive nature?” she asked softly.
“Quite.” The burden of the knowledge sat heavily on Cassandra’s heart. She dropped her gaze to her hands.
“And has anyone, aside from yourself, seen these documents?” Lady Corby continued.
“Not to my knowledge,” Cassandra lied. She could not implicate Evans. Not when there was so much left unspoken between them.
“If these documents were to come to light, they would cause an issue for the Duke of Tolland?” Lady Winstead asked.
“My son can never know.” Cassandra stiffened. “It would devastate him and bring ruin to our family.”
All three nodded in solidarity. They understood the gravity of the situation, the implications that lay heavily in the revelation of such a secret.
“How did you uncover it?” Lady Amesbury asked.
“In a lockbox I hadn’t seen before,” Cassandra replied. “What am I to do?”
“Nothing.” Lady Corby smiled kindly. “There is nothing you can do, madam. What is done is done, and no one can alter the past.”
Cassandra blinked at her reply. She was right, and yet the weight of the knowledge still hung over her head, threatening to crush her.
“Burn the documents,” Lady Amesbury added. “Start anew.”
“But what if someone comes looking for them? What if someone knows the truth?” Cassandra studied each of them in turn and found nothing to indicate deception or manipulation.
“There is always a risk.” Lady Corby sighed. “But you cannot worry about that over which you have no control.”
Cassandra’s heart sank. Before she could reply, the door opened, revealing Evans, who bore a tray laden with tea and madeleines. Her flailing heart lurched at the sight of his handsome face.
“Pardon the interruption, Your Grace.” He placed the tea on the table before her. “Mrs. Mercer asked me to deliver the tea, as it proved a bit unsteady.”
“How unconventional,” Lady Corby noted. “Your housekeeper is blessed to have such a flexible butler.”
“Thank you, Evans.” Cassandra watched him straighten, noting the broad outline of his strong shoulders. Her gaze lingered on his mouth. His wicked mouth and the sinful way he’d used it to bring her to climax. She shook her head and turned away, her face warming. “That will be all.”
Evans bowed and exited the room.
“Allow me to serve the tea,” Lady Amesbury offered as she reached for the pot.
Cassandra smiled. “That would be lovely.”
Slowly, the tension ebbed away. Evans’s presence affected her more than she thought. Curse him for having this power over her.
“Such a handsome man,” Lady Winstead commented.
Cassandra startled at the comment but quickly adapted. “Yes. He has been invaluable in his service.”
“How lovely.” Lady Amesbury presented the tea to her.
The conversation lapsed to more suitable topics, including the Mayberry Academy for Young Ladies, the upcoming holiday season, and their personal hobbies.
Cassandra fell into a comfortable rhythm, adding in only where she felt able, but the other ladies did not seem to mind. They welcomed her insight.
By the end of their visit, Cassandra was more at ease with her new companions.
The small confession she’d made upon their arrival had been reckless, but it left her with a consolation that she was not alone. Perhaps this newfound company would heal those parts of her that would otherwise fester in the shadows of loneliness.
When her guests rose to take their leave, Lady Corby came alongside Cassandra. “Might I have a word, madam?”
“Of course.” Cassandra motioned for her to follow her. They stopped by the window overlooking Grosvenor Street.
“If I may be so bold,” Lady Corby said, keeping her voice low, “I cannot help but notice a certain shift in the air when Evans entered the room.” She rested her hand on Cassandra’s arm. “Is there something amiss?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Cassandra asked in confusion. Was the tension between them so obvious? She pressed her hands to her cheeks to cool them. Surely, it was not blatantly obvious.
“As a widow, I have found it is best to keep those around me whom I trust implicitly,” Lady Corby explained. “If Evans has done or said anything to make you uncomfortable, madam, then I suggest you inform your son and find a suitable replacement post haste.”
Lady Corby’s concern for Cassandra’s well-being warmed her heart. “I thank you for your concern, but there is no need to worry on that count.”
Lady Corby’s furrowed brow transformed to a knowing smile. “I see. Well, then forget I even brought it up.” She stepped back. “Thank you for a lovely tea.”
“You are welcome to join me whenever you are in the vicinity.” Cassandra walked her to the door, noting Evans’s absence. The footmen aided the other two ladies in donning their coats in the hall.
“Likewise, madam.” Lady Corby curtsied before joining the other ladies.