Chapter 14 #2
“To my mortification, I did not bring anything,” Cassian said apologetically at last before lifting his hands. “I can donate some money if that will help?”
Holding back a faux sigh, Cecilia reached out and held Cassian’s arm. She would criticize him about his oversight when they returned home. “Maybe the donation I have given can be made by both of us?” she said instead.
“As much as I would love to do that, Your Grace,” the mayor began reluctantly, “the contributions should be individual—” he paused, while stroking his chin, “but since you have graciously attended our little festival, I am sure I can put Her Grace’s contribution as joint.”
Rubbing his forehead, Cassian then said, “No, no. I know what to do. Do you happen to have a pencil and pen around somewhere?”
Mystified about what Cassian wanted with a pen and paper, Cecilia was at least satisfied that her contribution was received properly.
The mayor and Cassian returned, and before she could ask him what he’d offered, the mayor called the guests to get seated. Dutifully, she took her seat near Cassian and turned a mindful eye to the men carrying a large China vase onto the podium.
The piece of blue and white porcelain was a statement piece and would surely bring in a pretty penny. It was followed by a carved jewelry chest and a set of porcelain dolls. One by one, more precious objects were bartered off—and Cecilia’s attention began to fade.
Had she truly bitten off more than she could handle by vowing to see Pru and the soldier court?
“And the last submission of the night, with a late admission—” the mayor fixed his wire-framed spectacles, “—an offer from Duke Tressingham. The winner of the highest bid will win a dance with His Grace tonight at the accompanying ball.”
Cecilia’s head snapped to the right so fast the pins in her hair jolted out of place. Cassian looked unbothered while a ripple of whispers went through the room.
Her mouth opened but closed when she could not find the words to say.
“We will start the bidding at fifty pounds,” the mayor declared.
Her hand clenched on her lap as the bids came in like a relaying volley. Fifty bounced to seventy, seventy went to a hundred, and soon enough, the sum was to five hundred.
As innocent as it was… it felt filthy.
Why doesn’t he just get in a dais in the market, remove his clothes, and hold up a sign saying ‘Goes to the highest bidder.’
The back of her neck went stiff, and she wished she had just told him about the donation instead of allowing her plans to spectacularly backfire.
“Seven hundred pounds,” the mayor said, his keen gaze flickering over the gathering. “Any other bids? Seven hundred and twenty?”
A lady lifted her hand halfway but pulled it down quickly. “Going once…” the mayor said, “Going twice…” another look, “…Sold to Lady Charity.”
Even seated, Cecilia felt her head start to spin. Was this as innocent as it seemed on the surface, or was it a calculated act to embarrass her? Taking a look at Cassian, it bamboozled her to see how unaffected he looked.
Across the room, Lady Charity leaned into the ear of a lady beside her and came away with a satisfied smirk on her face. The twinkle in the lady’s eyes made something ugly curdle inside her stomach.
She blinked away the burn in her breastbone.
This was not jealousy—it could not be. She felt nothing—well, aside from disapproval and a hint of attraction—for Cassian.
“That concludes the auction for this year’s festival,” the mayor stepped back. “I thank you, good gentlemen and gentlewomen, for your generous support. Your contributions will greatly help the community and extend the aid to the children’s homes and our farmers.”
“The assembly room, now ballroom, is ready for you, so please, make your way over there,” the mayor announced.
Cecilia did not know what to do. Couldn’t Cassian have offered something else? A carriage, a painting, or even a jewel? Why did he have to offer himself up like a lamb to the slaughter?
“Cassian,” she said quietly. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked.
“Offer a dance,” she said. “And a waltz at that.”
“It’s only a dance, Cecilia,” Cassian smiled soothingly as he crossed the hallway to the second room. “It’s not a private sojourn to the mountainside or a voyage to the Indies.”
Her stomach soured. “It is still unseemly.”
“Now I know you are jealous,” Cassian teased.
“I am not,” her eyes narrowed.
“And the moon is made of cheese,” he laughed. “Admit it.”
“There is nothing to be jealous of,” she said while squashing the memory of mere moments ago. Indeed, she was jealous, but she could not dare admit it. It did not matter how badly the woman rubbed her raw.
“Do as you like,” she said, tipping her nose up. “Just do not embarrass yourself.”
The ballroom was not outfitted as it would be if it were in a peer's home, but the intricate molding around the ceiling and a bronze chandelier hanging in the center of the room lent the air of opulence to it.
The sconces on the wall added more soft light around the room, and a string quintet was on the dais at the end of the room.
A waiter passed by, and Cassian took two glasses of champagne for himself and for her. Grudgingly, she took the glass while trying to find a way to impress on him her worry about Lady Charity.
Stepping aside, she watched as he took Lady Charity to the floor, and the dance began. She forced her eyes to stay on them, keeping her eyes on the two as they twirled around the room.
Would Cassian do something to stop the lady’s disrespect?
With the disquieting feeling that she would not enjoy the spectacle of Cassian being all genial—or flirtatious—and the lady leaning into it, Cecilia asked Pru where the lady's retiring room was.
After getting directions, she handed her glass off to her new friend, “Please hold this for me.”
“Of course,” Pru replied kindly.
The room was mercifully empty, and she took a moment to compose herself in front of the rounded mirror. Bracing her hands on the washing basin, she mentally timed how long the waltz took.
Thinking of the two out there, she felt her stomach roil; not because of Cassian, but because of the bold disrespect the woman was showing her.
I have enough enemies to worry about back in London with Gabriel and these horrible rumors against me.
With another steadying breath, she returned to the main room just in time for the music to surge to the end. She found Pru sitting where she had left her and took the glass while keenly watching the two on the dancefloor.
Her eyes landed on Cassian and the lady as they spun the last turn—but there, right there, she whispered something in his ear.
Her hand tightened around the glass while she stifled the urge to rub her pulsing temples.
What did Lady Charity say?
“If it is any consolation,” Pru said quietly, “she has been goading him for the last seven minutes, but he never took the bait.”
While listening to Pru—and dearly hoping she was right— Cecilia watched Cassian as he bowed away from the lady, his expression inscrutable. Did she dare hope her friend was right?
As Cassian escorted the lady off the floor, she went to him—and gave a terse acknowledgement of the lady lingering beside him.
Cecilia placed one hand on Cassian’s arm, leaned up so that her mouth was near his jaw, and said in a not-so-hushed whisper, “I am ready to go home.”
Pulling away, she made sure to brush her lips across his cheek and was relieved when he lingered. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he leaned into her ear, “If you wished to make a scene, you’ve certainly succeeded.”
Over his shoulder, Cecilia spotted the troublesome lady. “I still wish to go home. Now, if you’d please.”
Inclining his head, Cassian tucked her arm under his, and they went to find the mayor. The man was talking with one of his aides, and while they waited for him to be free, Cassian leaned into her ear, “Would you care to tell me why we are leaving so early, or should I guess?”
Her jaw was fixed stonily.
“Your Graces!” the man bowed. “I hope you are enjoying the evening.”
“We have,” Cassian replied. “But sadly, we need to return home. Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope the rest of the evening goes well.”
The mayor took the sudden announcement with aplomb and saw them off with kind words. Cecilia dipped back into the room to say goodbye to Prudence and asked if she could visit one day.
“Of course,” Pru gushed, and this time she produced a card for Cecilia to keep.
After a warm hug, Cecilia tucked the card into her reticule, then returned to Cassian. He nodded to the door, “The carriage is waiting.”