Chapter 18
While holding tight on Cassian’s arm, Cecilia spared a glance at the subtle, luxurious décor of the marble-floored entrance hall. They were led through an inner hall with an elegant double staircase and thence to the saloon, a splendid room that matched the foyer.
“Do you know who is attending?” She kept her voice low and a smile fixed on her face.
“No,” Cassian replied, “but does it matter? Half of London has one opinion about us, and the other has the opposite. It does not matter who is here. Just keep your head up and smile.”
“Your Graces,” a lady of elderly years curtsied. Her face was lined by age, and she wore her widow’s weeds in style, her silvery hair tucked under a turban. “I am so pleased to see you and your lovely wife. Welcome to my humble abode.”
This must be Lord Rainsville’s mother.
“Thank you, Lady Hortense.” Cassian’s smile was pure charm. “Has it really been a year since Edgar passed? You have not aged a day.”
Pale pink spots colored the lady’s cheeks. “Eleven months and twenty-eight days, Your Grace.”
“Ah,” Cassian nodded soberly, “then I shall refrain from sending you the list of eligible bachelors looking for a sweet lady as yourself three days hence.”
Aghast, Cecilia gasped, “Cassian!”
The dowager pressed her hand to her chest while her color brightened. Cecilia was not sure if the lady was flattered or having a coronary.
“I had forgotten how easily young fellows like you can charm an old bird like me.” Lady Hortense fanned Cassian off. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Your Grace. Your mother is surely smiling on you from heaven.”
She knew his mother?
“Thank you for having us,” Cecilia decided to reel the conversation back into familiar territory. “You have a lovely home. Quite modern, I must say.”
“That is the work of my lovely daughter-in-law,” she smiled at a lady across the room, clad in demure shades of rose. “Her father is a Draughtsman Engineer who studied in America for a while. He fitted pipes in such a curious way that our maids need not lug water upstairs anymore.”
“I’m impressed,” Cassian said as the Earl of Rainsville and a lady on his arm strolled over to meet them. The summer blue gown the lady wore craftily covered her heavily burgeoned belly.
“Your Graces,” the man bowed, and the lady curtsied as much as she could. “Welcome to my modest home. I see you have met my mother.”
“We have,” Cecilia smiled.
“I think I may employ your father to refit one of my homes, my lady,” Cassian began, “Your dear mama-in-law has already convinced me he is the best in the country.”
Lady Rainsville went red, and Cecilia was getting a firsthand account of how easily Cassian charmed his conquests.
The man had the ability to turn on the charm as easily as other people breathed, and while it worried her a little, she knew he had more composure and sense not to devolve into his old ways.
Are you sure about that?
The ugly question lingered in the back of her head as they meandered through the room, meeting married pairs, a few unattached lords and ladies, plus the local reverend and his wife.
“You know, dinner is in fifteen minutes,” Lady Rainsville said as they crossed paths together. “Would you like to sit with us ladies in a parlor?”
“I think—” Cecilia paused as a waiter passed with champagne on a tray, and Cassian took two. She felt startled at how bare Cassian’s hands were and belatedly remembered she’d taken a pair of gloves from Andrews on the way. “—I need to speak with my husband for a moment.”
Looking around, she spotted large double doors that led to a wide balcony and steered Cassian to it. Thankfully, he did not resist, and as they crossed the threshold, the cool night air wrapped around them. Cecilia pulled the gloves from her reticule.
“Please put these on,” she whispered urgently.
“No.” Cassian sipped his champagne.
She frowned, confused. “Why not? It is proper protocol for a gentleman—” she wrinkled her nose, “—haven’t you noticed the others present? No gentleman goes around with bare hands.”
“I do,” he moved to the door, but she stopped him.
“Cassian, you cannot honestly insist on being so gauche on every occasion,” she reprimanded him. “Put them on.”
His eyes narrowed. “Cecilia, I said, no. Now, let us rejoin the party.”
This time, she physically stepped in front of him, “Cassian. You are making me look bad. It is inappropriate.”
Instead of sidestepping her, he backed her up against the wall, his tone dropping.
“I do not wear those damned things, Cecilia, because the last time I wore them, I had not known my mother was dying. I lost the opportunity to touch her skin, Cecilia. To feel her heartbeat. To be close to her. So no, I have never and will never wear them again.”
His words had the effect of a physical punch to her heart, and shock danced right through her. Before she’d recollected herself, Cassian was back in the main room, swapping out his empty glass for another.
She didn’t know what exactly to make of his words; all she knew was that her heart had sunk to her feet. It was clear that for as much as she knew about Cassian, she truly knew so little.
I’ll ask him more when we return home. This is not the place nor the time for such a conversation.
Turning, she headed to join the rest of the party, and as she rested a hand on Cassian’s arm, she tried to find the words to say—but none came.
“Cassian—”
“Oh, I forgot,” he pulled away to fish inside his jacket for a moment, and then drew out a small pouch. Then, he took out a set of pearl and diamond earrings and added, “Shall I?”
Wordlessly, she inclined her head so he could brush her hair from her ears and pin the earrings in place. When she pulled away, she straightened with a soft ache in the middle of her chest.
The air around them had supped in conversation and chatter for a moment, and she felt the weight of gazes on the back of her neck. Briefly, she touched the left earring, the only jewelry she was wearing that night.
“I…” She swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Consider it a late marriage gift,” Cassian murmured coolly.
A butler entered the room, cleared his throat, and bowed. “My Lord and Ladies, dinner is served. Please, follow the footmen.”
Cassian took her arm this time, and they followed the flow of people across the parlor, down a hallway lined with portraits, and into a very grand saloon with deep windows overlooking tranquil courtyards on either side.
It was a large square room with a patterned tile floor that must have been forty feet wide and just as tall, with a balcony above around all four sides. Four massive chandeliers dangled from an exquisitely painted ceiling. She smiled in appreciation at such grandeur.
They were seated by the head of the table, only a few seats away from the host. Seated across from Cassian at the lavishly set table and with Dowager Rainsville, Cecilia slid him a surreptitious glance over the elaborate floral arrangement.
“That was so lovely,” the dowager said quietly.
For a moment, Cecilia was confused about what she meant, but then she brushed her earrings with the back of her hand. “It was.”
Cassian was already engaged in conversation with an older lord who sat to his left, so Cecilia turned her attention to the older lady. “From your comments earlier, I sense you knew his mother?”
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” the dowager nodded, her powdered cheeks still red from Cassian’s comments earlier. “For ten years, give or take. A few of the ladies here knew Lady Marianne as well.
“She was a lovely soul, so wide-eyed and gracious. She had her head in the clouds at times, but you could not have met a sweeter soul.”
“Asparagus soup, my lady?”
Belatedly, Cecilia realized she had not been paying attention, and abashed, she gave an absent nod to the footman. The footman ladled the creamy green concoction into the shallow bowl, and she reached for her spoon with the others.
The first course passed with her steering the conversation into lighter topics, the weather, who was the best modiste in London, and the upcoming balls.
Once or twice, she met Cassian’s eyes across the table and smiled, but focused on seeing how she could possibly get the dowager to tell her more about Cassian’s mother.
“You know, Your Grace, after dinner, the ladies and I will rejoin in a drawing room while the men play billiards,” the dowager began. “Will you join us? I know there are quite a few ladies who would love to meet you.”
Cecilia could not believe she had just been handed the very thing she wanted. “I’d love to join you. Thank you.”
She did try to steal looks at Cassian, and at times, he did meet her eyes. He winked once, and she blushed, then returned to her roasted pheasant.
“I must say, I never expected to see Duke Tressingham smitten,” the kind dowager whispered.
Closing her utensils, Cecilia wiped her mouth and then reached for her water. She knew deep down that Cassian was playing the part of dutiful husband, and as much as she wanted to tell the truth, she knew she, too, had a part to play.
“It startled me, too,” she replied softly. “He is… he is not the person many think he is.”
“He never was,” the dowager smiled secretly.
In the drawing room, Cecilia graciously accepted the cup of tea from the hostess and took a seat beside the dowager. She shot a fleeting look to the sideboard laden with cakes, sliced fruits, and a cold collation before focusing on the elderly countess.
“I can understand if this might be an imposition,” Cecilia tempered down the nervous flutter inside her chest. “But could you tell me more about Cassian’s mother? He…” She chose her words carefully, “—it's still painful for him to talk about her.”
Dowager Hortense added a splash of cream to her drink. “Lady Marianne was a dreamer. She had the heart of an angel and the grace of a dancer. Her father was an astronomer, and she helped him with his telescopes and instruments.