Chapter One
Perhaps I should go for a walk.
The thought had crossed her mind three times in the past hour and Cassandra was no closer to mustering the courage. Instead, she remained seated in the corner of the ballroom, watching as guests wandered by, enjoying the ball. She tried not to sulk, wishing she could be anywhere but there.
With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to the chandeliers above, brilliant with dozens of candles.
Her mother had certainly outdone herself with tonight’s decorations, she thought, taking in the silky drapes running down the walls like water.
It matched the linen that covered the refreshments table and nearly every seat in the room.
With the orchestra playing a gentle tune at the back of the ballroom, it almost felt as if Cassandra had been transported to the palace itself.
It should have been as magical an evening as it looked, but a few hours had already passed since the commencement of tonight’s ball and all Cassandra wanted to do was return to her chamber and sleep.
Her darling sister, Elizabeth, had dragged her around Bond Street all afternoon and she hadn’t gotten a chance to rest before she had to get ready for tonight’s ball.
And yes, this was supposed to be her debut ball, so did it really matter that she was here when no one else seemed to care?
“Careful, Cassandra,” she whispered to herself. “You’re pitying yourself again.”
But on a night like this, Cassandra couldn’t help herself.
Without thinking, she reached under the blue veil she’d donned to match her silver-blue gown, fingers brushing against the left side of her jaw.
As soon as she did, she was brought back to that night eight years ago, that weightless feeling before she’d crashed to the ground.
Cassandra quickly withdrew her hand. The scar that now laid there, a reminder of that night, seemed to burn.
“I think I passed by this current location three times and this is my first time noticing you here.”
Cassandra smiled, looking up at the gentleman who came to her side. She rose, accepting the glass of punch he held out to her. “That is because I have become a master of disguise.”
“A master is right. I thought you were a statue. I almost screamed in surprise when you moved.”
Cassandra giggled behind her hand. The Viscount of Bancroft, Lord Simon Bancroft, laughed alongside her, tucking his hands into the pockets of his breeches.
Simon always knew the right thing to say to cheer her up.
Cassandra wouldn’t be surprised if he’d approached her because he knew she was wallowing.
“Thank you for the punch,” she said. “Somehow you knew that I was dying of thirst.”
“And was either too lazy or too uncomfortable to make your way to the refreshments table.”
“I will not say which.”
Simon tilted his head back to laugh. “And I’m not surprised. You’re quite welcome, Cassie.”
“How fares your night, Simon?” Cassandra asked before taking a sip of the punch.
“Your mother has outdone herself yet again. It’ll be hard for anyone else to top this ball, which is quite a feat considering the Season has only just begun.”
Cassandra eyed him. He was handsome with sandy hair cut Brutus-style and a broad build that made him appear far more athletic than he was.
Both Cassandra and her parents had once entertained the thought of being courted by him until she’d actually gotten to know him and realized they would be much better as friends.
And in the years they’d known each other, Cassandra quickly came to realize that Simon Bancroft was well aware of how handsome he was—and was not afraid to take advantage of it.
“How many ladies have you made swoon since the evening has begun?” she asked.
“Swoon?”
“You know what I mean,” she pressed, smiling. “I’m sure you’ve already made a handful of them give over their hearts to you already.”
“Cassandra Jessica Matthews, are you saying that I am a rake?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying.” When she caught his eyes, she saw amusement shining in within the green. “So out with it. You know it has always intrigued me to see how easily you make ladies fall for you.”
“And yet it has never worked on you, has it?”
“And it never will,” she stated confidently.
Simon sighed dramatically, which only made her laugh again. It was partly the truth. Cassandra had quickly realized that she had no romantic interest in him and he had none in her. But she also knew where his heart truly lay.
As if by design, her eyes came to rest on a dancing couple in the center of the ballroom.
Cassandra drank in her sister’s graceful figure, how elegant she appeared with every step she made to the waltz.
Her dance partner paled in comparison and had a red face as if he knew it, as if he was well aware that he stood in the presence of goddess-like beauty.
Tonight’s ball was for her—Lady Elizabeth Matthews.
And she’d certainly made the best of it.
While Cassandra had spent her time sitting in the corner and counting the seconds until it was over, Elizabeth had not had a single moment to rest. The moment the dancing commenced, Elizabeth’s time had been occupied by one handsome gentleman after another, all wanting to dance with her.
The sight had filled Cassandra with pride—and just a bit of longing.
Glancing at Simon, she saw the same longing in his eyes.
They were for different reasons, she knew.
For her, she longed to debut, to have gentleman after gentleman vie for her dance.
Cassandra had tried to remind herself that that would never happen.
The scar her veil kept hidden would never allow it.
But, as she watched her sister’s brilliant smile, she wished for a second that things had been different.
And for Simon, Cassandra knew he longed to be the one holding Elizabeth in his arms.
“Have you asked Elizabeth to dance yet?” Cassandra blurted out before she could stop herself.
Simon frowned at her. Had she not been staring at him, she might have missed the way his cheeks colored. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, come now, Simon. Wouldn’t it be odd that one of my dearest friends and a friend to the family did not dance with the lady of honour?”
Simon swallowed hard, eyes returning to where the dancers swept by. “I’m sure her dancing card is full.”
“And I’m sure she will make space for you if you asked.”
He was considering it, Cassandra could tell. She fell silent, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion.
Just as the set came to an end, he spoke again, “I suppose it would not hurt. Just to keep up appearances, of course.”
“Of course,” Cassandra drawled. But he was already walking away, eyes set on Elizabeth.
Cassandra polished off the rest of her punch and rested the empty glass on the table nearby before reclaiming her seat.
She was watching as her dear friend approached her sister just as she’d returned to her mother’s side.
He bowed, said something, and sadly kept his head bowed.
Which meant he did not see the joy that lit Elizabeth’s face at the request.
Cassandra sighed, watching as they made their way to the center of the room in time for the next set. They looked lovely together. Cassandra hoped that one day Elizabeth would come to see Simon as a potential match.
And she secretly prayed that one day, she too could entertain the idea of love.