“Hewhat, Cassandra?!” Matthew bellowed. Face contorting with fury, he asked through his teeth, “Howpreciselydid he ensure that there won’t be a baby?”
Sharply turning from her, his hair shadowed his eyes. Cassandra fell to the sofa, holding her head in her hands. The house continued to creak, groan, and howl. Matthew stared into the fire. When he spoke, his shoulders trembled and his voice was small.
“Do you think this is where I wanted to be in life? I had my own dreams, my own goals for the future. I was in love, too. I was going topropose.”Matthew whispered as if lost, “But then Mother got sick, and I had to come home. I had to stay there after she died because Father wasuselessand when he fell—” Cassandra’s heart sank with his broken sigh. “What I wanted didn’t matter anymore, because I had to take care of you. I have put you aboveeverything.” A sob fractured the room. “I have worked, andworked,for you. I have cried, I havebled. I have gone without sleep, without food. And never once have I resented you for it. And now I’m ashamed of you.” Matthew’s voice cracked as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Our parents would beashamedof you, Cassandra.”
With a wrenching gasp from Caroline, the air left the room. Cassandra wept into her shaking hands. Matthew tore himself from thefire and stomped into the hallway.
“A bath, Davis!”
“Already prepared, my lord,” came Davis’ succinct reply.
After he had left, the silence stretched between the sisters. Caroline stared into the fireplace with her hands in her lap, the flame dancing in her eyes. Shutters collided with windows, waterplinkedinto tea kettles, and the storm continued to rage.
Dress soaking the cushions, Cassandra hugged her knees to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I’ve ruined everything.”
“Oh, sister,” Caroline murmured. Reaching out tentatively, Caroline took a breath, and in a rush, threw her arms around Cassandra. Cassandra shattered in her sister’s embrace. Long minutes passed before her crying subsided into coughs, hiccups, and finally resigned sighs. Caroline clasped their hands, rubbing her thumb along Cassandra’s knuckles. Caroline tilted her head and smiled.
“I was certainly not expecting all of this when you got home.” She leaned in close with a twinkle in her eyes. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Matthewtrulyattacked Mr. Reeves?”
“It was a bloodbath,” Cassandra mumbled. “I thought he was going to kill him.”
Caroline digested that information with a giggle.
“Astorage closet, Cassandra?”
Face reddening, Cassandra shifted her eyes away and groaned. “It’s a long story.”
Caroline laughed, surprising Cassandra, who couldn’t see anything funny at all.
“What?”
“I didn’t think you had it in you.” Caroline grinned, and she tugged Cassandra to her feet. “Up! Let’s get you in a hot bath, then into some dry clothes, and you can tell me all about this knife fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“It needs more flounce,” Aunt Valentine said.
Cassandra groaned. “If you add anything else, I’ll faint from exhaustion halfway up the aisle.”
The white monstrosity she was swimming in had a surplus of pearls, lace, taffeta, and a four-foot train.Drowning in ruffles and frills, it was as if the entirety of Madame Fournier’s boutique had dropped on her. It really was too much, but Aunt Valentine wouldn’t rob her of the bridal experience, even with a time crunch.
“I don’t see why we can’t go with somethingsimple,” she said once more.
“It’s your wedding dress, Cassandra!” Caroline gushed. “One you’re going to pass down to your own daughter. Aren’t you even a little excited?”
Excited? Not quite. Nervous, yes. Stressed, yes. And sad, if she could admit it. She had always dreamed of walking down the aisle in her mother’s dress. Mama had adored Seth. Cassandra rather liked to think she would have approved of her choice of husband, if not the method of acquiring him. She would have loved to see Cassandra walk down the aisle in her dress.Even if she was ashamed of me.But that dress and those dreams were back in Lincolnshire. They would sit in the attic, collect more dust, and wait for Caroline.
“What is his favorite color?” Aunt Valentine asked, lifting Cassandra’s skirts to watch them fall.
“You look lovely in blue.”
Cassandra smiled at the memory, and the tension eased from her shoulders.
“Blue.”
“Madame Fournier,” Aunt Valentine called out. “Add a royal blue sash—yes,Cassandra, you need a sash. Raise the hem, cinch the waist—she is atinything. Remove the train. Drop the neckline tohere.” She gestured to a place low on Cassandra’s bosom and said pointedly to the modiste, “Andless flounce. We will need it before Thursday.”
Thursday.
