Chapter Twelve
At five past two the next day, Sebastian was waiting at Hyde Park corner, trying and failing to hide his nervousness.
With each minute that passed he grew more sure that Cassie was not coming.
Or worse yet, that she would arrive on Balard’s arm and offer nothing more than a chilly smile as she passed him.
He had hoped to speak with her after the play, to explain that the brief visit from Harriette had meant nothing. She was an old friend, albeit a very close old friend. Too close, perhaps. Judging by the look she had given him, Balard had told her far too much already.
It was another five minutes before Cassie arrived, alone except for her maid.
‘Miss Fisk,’ he said with a formal bow. ‘How delightful to see you. It is a delightful day as well, is it not?’
‘Indeed, Your Grace,’ she replied, looking past him into the park.
He stepped into her line of sight so she could not ignore him. ‘May I escort you along the Serpentine?’
‘That would be most kind of you, Your Grace,’ she said, without smiling.
They walked in silence until they reached the keeper’s lodge, where he bought a bag of corn for Bessie and sent her off to feed the swans in the water. Then he found a bench for the two of them and invited Cassie to sit.
She did so and fumbled in her reticule for a moment before withdrawing her clenched hand and holding it out to him.
He placed his open hand beneath it, puzzled.
‘I have come to return this,’ she said, dropping the amber stick pin into his palm.
‘No,’ he said, automatically.
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if challenging him to disagree.
He took her hand and pressed the pin back into it. ‘I will not accept it. You are not even sure where it came from, are you?’
‘I think we both know perfectly well,’ she said.
‘There was no signature on the note. Nothing that anyone can reproach you with. And the pin is a simple thing. There is no obligation attached to it. It was meant as a token of friendship and you can keep it as such. If your heart is pledged to another, tuck it away in your jewel case and take it out on days when you are feeling sentimental and want to remember the past.’
She was silent, giving him ample time to regret his words. What sort of a fool was he to let her go like this, without a struggle? He should be apologizing, even though he’d done nothing.
Not recently, at least.
And he could not exactly say he was sorry for the things he’d done before he met her. It was far too late to take them back.
Slowly, she closed her hand around the pin and put it back in her purse. Then, she said, ‘My heart is not pledged to anyone.’
He let out a sigh of relief.
‘Not yet, at least.’
He clutched his heart and pantomimed a mortal wound. ‘You took pleasure in that.’ Then he held out a hand to her and shook his head. ‘I suppose I deserve it. I tortured you, when we first met. Remember the book in my night table?’
‘I…’ She stopped before she could say more. But she remembered. He knew she did. The same blush stained her cheek now as it did the day he’d tricked her into reading from Fanny Hill.
He leaned forward, ready for her next words.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she said, thoughts gathered and defenses raised again.
‘Of course not,’ he said, his smile turning smug. ‘I forgot that we have never met until just last week. You could not possibly be the woman whose lips were so sweet I have not stopped thinking about them for over a year.’
‘If…this woman was so special to you,’ she said cautiously, ‘you were not thinking of her last night at the theatre.’
‘You are speaking of Harriette Wilson,’ he said. ‘I have not visited with her or any other woman since before the duel.’
‘It did not look that way,’ she said glaring at him.
‘I cannot help the way it looked,’ he said. ‘I can only give you my word as a gentleman that what I said is true.’
She snorted.
It hurt. But he should not have been surprised. No one else in London had believed his change in character, either.
‘The woman I knew a year ago would have believed in me,’ he said softly. ‘She saw things in me that I could no longer see in myself.’
She met his gaze, now, her familiar grey eyes staring into his as they had done when he’d first kissed her. The woman who had loved him back to life was still there, hiding inside the cynical beauty. He had to find a way to reach her.
‘I would give anything to get her back,’ he said. ‘Even if just for an hour. She departed so suddenly I did not get her direction. And she left something that I am sure was quite precious to her.’
‘Her innocence?’ Cassie replied. But there was a breathless quality behind the sharp words as if she wanted to be that woman, as well.
‘No,’ he said, rummaging in the pocket of his coattail. ‘Her Bible.’
Before she could stop it, her hand was rising to take it from him. Then, she jerked it back down, clasping both hands in her lap, lacing the fingers tightly to stifle the urge.
‘I am sure it has great sentimental value to her, whoever she was. It is inscribed inside the cover.’ He opened it and held it out so she could see as he read. ‘To our loving daughter, with all prayers and blessings. Father and Mother.’ He glanced over at her, waiting.
She bit her lip.
‘I am sure she is missing it. I would most like to return it.’
‘Before it catches flames in your hands, you devil.’
He smiled, for there was a time when he’d have accepted such an insult as a badge of honour. ‘It is rather a surprise that both it and I are unscathed.’ He closed the cover again and watched as she stared at it, wavering between the truth and the lie she wanted to maintain.
Was she still so afraid that her brother would learn what she had done? Or was she terrified of admitting that she might feel something for him?
Either way, it was cruel to torture her.
He did not have the heart to do so any longer.
He held the book out to her. ‘I suggest you hold it.’ When she didn’t take it, he urged it on her, pressing it between her clasped hands.
‘Please, for the safety of all concerned. Such a valuable item is better in the hands of a vicar’s daughter. ’
Then, he could not resist a final jab. ‘You are pure of spirit and would never lie. Take it and tell me it does not belong with you.’
She glared at him, still silent. She stared down at the book and the frown faded into something sweet and sad. ‘If you insist, I will keep it for you.’ Then, she seemed to rally, her smile returning. ‘If you should need it back, for any reason, to improve your character perhaps…’
He laughed again. ‘I will know where to find it.’
‘Thank you.’ It was not exactly the admission he’d hoped for. But there was nothing mocking in the words. Her hand rested on the spine of the Bible like a caress.
He stared at it for a moment, remembering her, in his room, holding the book just as she was now. She could not hide the woman she was, gentle, caring, and so very different from the women he was used to in London.
He looked away. ‘It is nothing.’ He slapped his knees and rose, turning back to her and making a deep bow. ‘And now, dear lady, your maid has used up her bird feed and is coming back to protect you. I have taken enough of your time. I will see you again soon.’
‘I am afraid you will,’ she agreed.
He could feel her watching as he walked away.
Once he was out of sight, Cassie set the Bible aside and reached into her reticule to get the pin, fixing it back on her spencer. Last night, she’d been sure that she never wanted to see the Duke of Westbridge again. But today, he had been so kind that she could not imagine a life without him.
She greeted Bessie with a moan of frustration. ‘He is the most infuriating man alive.’
The girl grinned at her, showing no sympathy at all. ‘If you say so, miss.’
‘And, I think I may be in love with him.’ It made her feel a little better to say the words aloud, even in such a weak fashion. She had told herself that what she’d felt last year had been nothing more than infatuation. She had wanted to keep the memory of that time a secret, even from him.
When she’d met him again this Season, he had gone out of his way to charm her, and she hadn’t taken that seriously, either.
But each time they met, there had been less artifice about him. Then, yesterday, she’d been moved as he’d spoken about himself. And in the evening, she was far too angry at the thought that he might take a mistress.
Today, when she’d planned to break from him…
She looked at the Bible, sitting in her lap, a book she’d assumed was lost forever. But he had known she would be missing it and kept it for her.
She looked at Bessie, again. ‘He cares about me. More than the other men I have met, at least. And when I am with him? I feel…’ She struggled to find words.
‘I feel. Just that. Sometimes, he makes me angry, or frustrated. But with others, I mostly feel nothing at all.’ She gave the maid a hopeful look. ‘Is that love?’
‘I could not say, miss,’ she replied. But she was smiling as if she wanted to say yes. Then, her smile disappeared as she looked towards the exit. ‘Oh, dear.’
Cassie turned to see Portia, hurrying down the path towards them. ‘There you are.’
‘It seemed like a nice day for a walk.’
‘Alone?’ Portia said with a sceptical smile.
Cassie spread her hands gesturing to the lack of companions.
‘At least you have brought your maid with you. It is never wise to meet a gentleman without a chaperone.’
‘What gentleman?’ Cassie said, looking around her.
‘You know perfectly well it was Westbridge. He was leaving the park just as I entered, and he looked happy.’
‘Is that really so strange?’ Cassie said.
‘Very,’ Portia said, frowning. ‘I have never seen him happy.’
‘Do not be ridiculous. He is always smiling,’ Cassie replied.
‘Smiling? Yes. Boisterous. Jovial. Ebullient. Always in the highest spirits and with the quickest wit. But he is never simply, sincerely, content.’ Portia’s eyes narrowed. ‘How long has this been going on?’
As Cassie prepared another denial, Portia cut her off.
‘And do not tell me there is nothing. I am not as blind as Julian is. You look at him differently than you do your other suitors.’
‘How?’ she said, honestly curious.
‘As if you are listening to what he is saying,’ Portia said with an exasperated huff.
She could not deny it. So she shrugged and smiled. And she felt a strange sense of relief.
‘How well do you know him?’ Portia said and gave her the sort of penetrating look that would be very hard to lie to.
Where should she begin? With the ball? With the duel?
‘Your hesitation is making me anxious,’ Portia said, probably assuming the worst.
‘After the duel, I was afraid Julian would be charged with murder. I went to the Duke’s house and nursed him.’
‘How noble,’ Portia said with a grim expression. ‘But that is not what I mean. How well do you know him?’
Cassie blushed. ‘A few kisses.’ She thought. ‘Two. Only two.’ Somehow, it had seemed like more.
Portia’s eyebrows rose. ‘Interesting.’
In what way, Cassie wondered. Was that too many? Too few? ‘He gave me this,’ Cassie said, holding up the Bible in defense. Then, she added, ‘I left it in his bedroom,’ which quite spoiled the explanation.
Portia stared at her for a moment, stunned to silence. Then, she shook her head and held up a hand in defeat. ‘This will make an interesting story which you can tell me at a later date. The immediate question is what you are planning to tell your brother.’
‘Me?’ The word came out as a squeak.
‘You,’ Portia said in a firm voice.
At first, she had thought that there would be a way to hide the truth indefinitely. But things were changing. If the Duke was serious in pursuing her, at some point, everyone would learn of it.
‘The longer you wait, the more difficult it will become,’ Portia said in a stern voice. ‘And I have no intention of helping you.’
‘I didn’t expect you would,’ Cassie assured her. ‘But, perhaps, Westbridge…’
Portia let out a sharp laugh. ‘That would be…’ She shook her head. ‘Inadvisable.’
‘The man is normally the one to go to the family.’
‘If they are serious about the future,’ Portia said, giving her another serious look.
Was he serious? She still did not know. ‘He made an offer,’ she said, grasping at the bit of good news.
‘Of what?’ Portia said, with a doubtful smile.
‘Formal wedding, with banns read and all.’
Portia’s look of surprise returned, and for a moment, she was quiet, as though thinking. ‘It still must come from you. The relationship between the two men is cordial now, but it has been volatile. We do not want them to come to blows over a misunderstanding.’
Cassie nodded. She could not say that she liked the idea of talking to Julian, but she could see the truth in what his wife was saying. If she was serious in her feelings about the Duke, she would need to negotiate a safe path forward for all of them.
Portia’s smile relaxed, and she held out a hand. ‘Come. We will go home together, as if nothing has happened. Supper will be late tonight as Parliament is in session. You will have time to think of what to say to Septon, when he comes home.’
Cassie rose and gestured to Bessie and they walked to the entrance of the park where a carriage was waiting to take them back to the townhouse.
Once there, she went to her room and pretended to nap before supper.
But sleep was impossible with her mind racing over the things she needed to say when she came to the table.
When Julian finally arrived and they sat down to eat, she refilled her wine glass three times.
But by the time that dessert was served, she’d said nothing of importance, limiting herself to smiles and nods and agreeing with her brother’s opinion about the quality of the food and the disappointing state of English politics.
When her brother got up to leave, Portia announced, ‘I think Cassandra has something she wishes to say.’
He turned back to her, smiled and waited.
This was the moment. She said a silent prayer for strength, opened her mouth and said, ‘I just wanted to thank you again for this wonderful opportunity. I am enjoying my time in London very much.’ Then, she fell silent again, ignoring Portia’s frustrated sigh.
Julian looked at her, confused. Then, he said, ‘You’re welcome. And now, I think it is time for me to retire.’
‘Good night,’ she said with a nervous smile.
And then, he was gone. Portia followed him after one final annoyed look in her direction.
Cassie’s hand shook as she raised her glass and drained the last of her wine. This was not a failure, she told herself. Only a delay. Nothing bad had happened, as of yet. She still had time to work this out. She would take the night to think it out.
Tomorrow, she would explain everything.