Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“She was quite possibly the most exasperating person that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
George had been in Hyde Park for some air before he attended his club that evening. He had wanted to calm himself, for he knew he would see his creditor that night and needed steady nerves before facing him. Instead, he had been confronted by a lady with wild hair and an even wilder demeanor.
“Perhaps she was not aware of the fact that you are a duke?”
“Nonsense. Everyone knows that I am the Duke of Sherton. I have been so for six months now.”
“That is still relatively new,” his sister said gently. “You have a tendency to assume the worst in people. Perhaps it might be best for you to let this time go?”
George sighed, looking at his sister with a raised brow.
She looked almost exactly like him in terms of her features, though her nose was smaller, but she was the exact opposite of him when it came to her demeanor.
She was not quick to fight back, nor did she truly like confrontation at all.
She was a sweet girl, and he admired her for that, but it made caring for her even more difficult.
Her sweetness, he knew, was naivety, and that made her vulnerable, and he could not allow that.
“Regardless,” he continued, “I hope to never see her again.”
“Brother, the first ball of the season is tomorrow night. If she is of status, and unmarried as you claim, she will more than likely be in attendance.”
“Must you always have to ruin my hopes?” he laughed. “I thought that I might at least avoid her for a short while.”
“Well, if you do not force me to debut, you can.”
He raised a hand to signal to her to stop. She had already tried to convince him to delay her debut, but he knew it had to be done. But Philippa sauntered out before he could retort. George remained still, jaw tight.
He knew that he perhaps did not have the best way of handling matters, but it had worked well for him. In the six months following his father’s death, he had made such great changes to the estates that he would be able to build a truly brilliant life for his family.
And he would enjoy mentioning that, he thought, when he saw Lord Buxton at his club that evening.
When he arrived at White’s, however, he was still thinking of the peculiar woman he had met that day.
She was older than Philippa, but there was still something so youthful about her.
He thought that it was because she was not a wife, and therefore had no real responsibilities, and chuckled to himself.
She was undeniably a pretty lady, and under different circumstances he might have had a conversation with her, but he was not foolish enough to ever think that she was fit for marriage to him.
She was curt and irrational, which a duchess could never be, and more to the point he found her aggravating.
George was a man that could maintain his composure under any circumstance, but the moment he saw her that fell apart, and he was acting almost as ridiculously as she was.
He arrived at his club and took a brandy, trying not to drink it in one. He did not want to return home in a stupor, but he also wanted rest from what had happened in the park.
“Your Grace!” a voice came, and he knew at once that he would not be resting.
“Buxton,” he greeted. “What a pleasure.” It was anything but.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Come, I thought we might play a game of cards.”
George knew better than to think that was all his creditor wanted. He would want to gloat, to beat George at whatever game they played, and feel superior to a duke. If that was what made him happy, George saw no harm in placating him.
They took their seats, and Buxton shuffled the cards. He gave George a smug smile, one that George had trained himself to ignore.
“I have a rather good feeling about this match,” he grinned. “I believe I shall be victorious.”
“Time will tell,” George replied.
“Indeed, and it may then transpire that you owe me even more money than you already do.”
He said it too loudly for where they were, and one or two gentlemen looked their way, but George laughed it off and nobody paid them any mind. He did not know why the creditor was acting in such a manner, but George knew what to say to make him stop, as long as he said it at the right moment.
“Faro?” Buxton suggested.
A perfect game for a predatory creditor, George thought, but he nodded and they prepared to play.
“So,” Buxton began as he placed the two cards down and play began, “how is your sister? She prepares for her debut, I hear. She would make a perfect bride. You know, that would be a way to settle things between us.”
It was a disgusting suggestion, but George did not react. Inside, he was burning, but he refused to give Buxton that satisfaction. Not only that, but he knew it was exactly what the man wanted. He delighted in knowing that he was causing misery, and George was not going to play into it.
“Yes, I often forget that you never married,” he replied simply. “One would think that those winning charms of yours would have secured a match years ago.”
“I have only ever focused on building a life for myself, so that when I do take a wife, she will live in luxury. I do not act like some other men, who build ruin for their families to mend instead.”
He gave George a knowing look, and George looked down at the card. He was not referring to George himself, but he said it with such venom that he might as well have been.
“Turn it over,” he instructed.
“Do you not wish to change your wager?”
“No, I am perfectly happy with it. Turn it over.”
Lord Buxton did as he was told, and in seconds George was revealed to be the winner. He heard the man’s sharp inhale, the accusatory glance as though he had somehow cheated, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again.
“How very well played, Your Grace. Truly, it is remarkable.”
“Let me make something very clear to you, Buxton,” George said in a low voice. “You told me that I have a year to repay my father’s debts. In a mere six months, I have almost entirely settled it. In two months, this will all be done with, and then we can both be on our way.”
Lord Buxton was humiliated by the loss, but George knew that it was more than that.
He had been opportunistic in telling a man in his twenties that he owed so much money, and George knew that he had never once expected him to be able to follow through with the agreement.
For George to have almost entirely done so was nothing short of a miracle, or at least it would have been if it was what Lord Buxton truly wanted.
“One month,” he said simply.
“Excuse me?”
“You have one month. It is, indeed, surprising how quickly you have corrected your father’s mistakes, and so I am certain that you will be able to manage it.
Think of your poor sister, and how she would struggle on the marriage mart if it became known just how dire her situation had been.
She might be the sister of a duke, but scandal affects us all.
She would not be immune to it, and when gentlemen will not glance in her direction, whatever will you do? ”
“I will say this once,” George said, his voice dropping. “You will not speak of my sister again, nor will you allow your thoughts to drift toward her debut. If you do, I shall ensure that no club in London will ever admit your shadow again.”
George stood, leaving the winnings on the table as if they were beneath his notice. “My father’s debts were a lapse in judgment. My repayment of them is an act of grace. And in one month, this will be over.”
The ballroom was warm, almost uncomfortably so. People filled every inch of it, and Cassandra stood perfectly still, feeling every bit the “spinster with her cats” she had joked about the day before.
The imagery sat heavier with every passing second, until she spotted her father weaving through the crowd. He looked triumphant, a hunter returning with a prize.
And so it begins…
“Stand tall,” her mother hissed, smiling brightly at her husband as he led a young gentleman toward them.
Cassandra thought that a rather ridiculous request, because she was tall. She was taller than most of the other ladies, and had soft curves that made her seem large in comparison to the others. She was not a waif-life lady, and she knew that was what the gentlemen in attendance wanted.
The man that her father had found for her was no exception. She saw the change in his expression the moment that he saw her; his gaze flickering as he considered her, and then he gave her father a nod of approval.
“This is the Earl of Lashton,” her father explained. “My lord, this is my daughter, Lady Cassandra Burrow.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, curtsying dutifully.
“The pleasure is certainly all mine,” the man replied. “Would you care to dance?”
There was nothing that she wanted to do less than dance in the center of the ballroom. Truth be told, she was not a dancer and she never had been. She could play the music perfectly, in the privacy of her home, but once she had to set foot on a dancefloor she was entirely useless.
But she could not say that. She could not turn away the very first man to give her attention, not when her parents were standing there and certainly not when she was the one who had asked them for these introductions just a day ago.
“Of course,” she replied, and they made their way together.
He was not an unappealing man. He was slightly taller than her, and his hair was styled in neat blond curls.
He had a kind enough face, though that was helped immensely by his warm brown eyes.
In and of himself, he was not objectionable, though Cassandra knew that there was no real spark.
He did not make her heart pound, nor skip, nor even beat any differently at all.
But she had made a promise to try.
The music began, and instinctively she named the piece, causing his eyebrows to raise.