“He hasn’t changed at all,” Cassandra agreed. Conversation with Colonel Bishop was simple enough, even if he was a bittoobold with his touch and his speech. She could settle into old habits far too easily, if only it didn’t feel… wrong. The way he talked about Mr. Reeves, with the wordspetandthe helpthrown around casually. For a former comrade, no less! But should she be surprised? Most of thetonheld similar opinions of the lower classes.
On the far side of the lawn, Mr. Reeves stood stoic, staring toward the targets. All night Cassandra laid in a ridiculously comfortable bed, after an utterly exhaustive day, enveloped in total darkness and silk, and all she could think about was Mr. Reeves on the other side of the wall. For hours, she fought the urge to go to him, to provide the comfort that she knew he needed. But what would she have said? Thelast thing he would want was her sticking her nose into his business, even if a friendship of sorts had formed between them over these past months.
Throughout the night, she heard his footsteps pace the floor, and she thought surely her company might be welcome, but it wasn’t proper. As three o’clock rolled around, her inner dilemma solved itself when his door opened, closed, and his heavy steps echoed down the staircase. He hadn’t returned when dawn had arrived.
She had been awake for that, too.
“I daresay it won’t take much convincing to coax a proposal from the Colonel. With how he looks at you, he’s quite interested.” Aunt Valentine brought her teacup to her lips.
“I agree,” Jasmine crooned. “He was undressing you—”
“Jasmine!”
“With hiseyes,Mama! With hiseyes!I swear, you never let me finish a sentence—”
“Crudeness aside, there is an obvious attraction,andprior history.” In a deliberate motion, Aunt Valentine set her empty teacup on its saucer. She poured herself another cup, plain, but did not bring it to her lips. The steam lifted and swirled between them. “He’s still unmarried, and even without the contest he has considerable means, it would be the simplest choice.”
“He’s in competition with Matthew.” Cassandra worried her thumb along the handle of her teacup. Matthew promised not to interfere, but it would still feel like a betrayal, and society would see her as a woman who hedged her bets.
“Competition and rivalry can be wonderful motivators,” Aunt Valentine said. “As long as he treats you well.”
Jasmine took the list from Cassandra.
“Lord William Lancaster, Earl Worthing, or Mr. Ryan Lancaster.”
“I’m unfamiliar with them,” Cassandra admitted. “Where are they?”
“Behind us,” Aunt Valentine slowed her voice, “three tables to the left—discreetlyJasmine!”
But it was too late, Jasmine rotated her entire body in the direction her mother indicated, Cassandra discreetly looked around the lawn, as if taking in the scenery, but the show of it was pointless with Jasmine’s directness, and so Cassandra turnedhalfof her body.
She needed to showsomesemblance of propriety.
“Lord Worthing is a recent widower with a considerable fortune, but no heir. I hear that he is eager to find a wife and sire a son as soon as possible to secure his line of succession.” Lord Worthing was slight of body and hair, so thin and frail that he looked light enough that the breeze could take him at any moment. He appeared to be on the later side of seventy, if not the early side of eighty.
“Is hecapableof siring a son?” Cassandra asked.
“Perhaps not. Which leads to the young gentleman sitting next to him, his younger half brother, Mr. Lancaster. If Lord Worthing fails to produce an heir before his death, Mr. Lancaster will inherit.”
Lord Worthing looked more like a grandfather than a brother to the young man next to him. Mr. Lancaster was the young gentleman that pestered Colonel Bishop and Mr. Reeves with questions during dinner the night before. He looked rather overwhelmed with the attention from—Cassandra noted miserably—Lady Samantha Penrose, Lady Honora Bradford, and Miss Georgiana Davenport.
The unholy trifecta itself.
Lady Honora sprinkled Lord Worthing with flirtatious giggles, moving her fan about her bosom. Miss Georgiana had a vacant smile plastered on her face, appearing lost as the conversation continued around her. Lady Samantha’s gaze met Cassandra’s with a smile that was soft, sweet, and thoroughly inauthentic. She waved gently before she returned to her friends and started chatting, and a round of laughter ensued. They leaned in closer to the two gentlemen, sending a clearmessage.
That territory was firmly claimed.
“Either option seems like a gamble.” Cassandra pursed her lips.
“If given an option, the younger one will be more malleable,” Aunt Valentine said. “Four years of an age difference is nothing compared to fifty but the wordsyoung dowagercan have a certain ring to it, if one is patient.”
Lord Worthing was out. Cassandra couldn’t endure another minute of mourning and isolation. Would she losethreeyears of her life to black dresses and veils, or would she take a risk on the younger Lancaster, hoping that another woman didn’t have the same qualms about marrying an older man? She found her answer in the money-hungry gleam in Lady Honora’s eyes.
Cassandra returned her attention to the next name on the list apprehensively. “Lord Adrian Hollingsworth, Viscount Blackmoor.”
Adrian Hollingsworth stood next to his father like a bodyguard. If the portraits on the wall and his own bone structure foretold the future, he would look exactly like Lord Bolderwood in twenty years, with his square features, black hair, and brooding scowl. If his expression changed, or his mouth moved at all, Cassandra hadn’t noticed.
“Next!” Jasmine exclaimed. “I can tell you right now that is not the man for me. A fern has more personality.Andyou would be lucky to get within ten feet of him without turning into a block of ice. I can only imagine how cold the marital bed will be.”
