“I am not certain I wish to conquer,” Cassandra said. “Sybil, have you heard of this pact everybody is talking of?”
“I could not hope to avoid it; it has been a regular topic in my house,” Sybil said laughing.
“Does it not give you pause?” Cassandra asked. “Does it not make you uneasy?”
Lady Sybil sat on one of the upholstered chairs and said, “At first, yes. But then, Cass, I thought about it and I believe it may be to our benefit. Neither of us wish to marry a man who is forced to do so by their father and this way we know who to avoid.”
Cassandra had not considered that aspect of things. “That is true. All that has gone on might have proceeded in secrecy and we would have no way of knowing. Should one ofthemhave pursued one ofus, we might have remained unaware that it was to be a loveless transaction. Unaware, that is, until it was too late.”
“Precisely,” Lady Sybil said. “Now that we do know, we shall not be caught. Let some silly girl who thinks of a lofty title with no care for anything else trade her life for a position.”
“Agreed,” Cassandra said, feeling lighter than she had all day. “We will find love, while some foolish girl discovers herself an unloved duchess left behind at some country estate, and lonely and bored all her life.”
Cassandra counted herself fortunate that she had the liberty to hope for love, as not every girl did. It was not that her father had said she might marry for love, the Viscount was not of a very romantic turn of mind. However, he had made known his opinion that females were not idiots and were therefore capable of choosing their own destiny. He had also made it known that if she were to make an idiotic choice, she must live as an idiot forevermore. None of that came as a surprise to Cassandra—the Viscount felt commonsense to be the bedrock of every well-formed opinion and expected his daughter to carry on accordingly.
Cassandra paused in her mental wanderings, an idea suddenly occurring to her. “How shall we know which gentlemen to avoid? I have not even heard their names.”
Lady Sybil laughed and said, “I have. My mama and Lady Jemima spent an hour this morning working their way down the list and examining every candidate while I pretended to sew.” She counted off on her fingers, “The lords Hampton, Lockwood, Ashworth, Dalton, Cabot and Grayson.”
Cassandra silently repeated the names.Thiswas a list of names she had no intention of forgetting.
Chapter Two
Lady Bergram andSir John were the sort of people that nobody could claim to particularly like or dislike, with the exception of Lord Lockwood, who had strong opinions about everybody. For most, they were neither here nor there, though one might not guess it upon viewing the enormous amount of invitations that arrived at their door or the enormous amount of people who came to their annual ball.
Neither Sir John nor Lady Bergram were engaging, one a bore and the other looking as if she might go up in a puff of smoke at the slightest provocation. However, as was always the way in London, once a family had been established as being worthy of notice, they were forevermore worthy unless they did something shocking. The Bergrams were less likely than a vicar on a Sunday to do something shocking, neither of them having any ideas in that direction. Or many ideas at all, really.
What the Bergramsdidhave was a large house with a cavernous ballroom and the funds to entertain lavishly. Their house on Grosvenor Square was just now lit up like noon sunshine with torches on the drive and hundreds of candles burning indoors.
Cassandra had got in her carriage in Berkeley Square just as Sybil entered her own next door, and so she had taken some comfort that her friend followed behind and they would not be parted long. She might wish the trip had taken longer than it did, as she felt a sense of nerves that she had not felt upon attending her first ball at the Tremanes’. She’d had mild flutters over that one, but this was more of a foreboding and wishing to turn the carriage round and go home.
She supposed it was the size of the ball, or perhaps the pact and the idea that everybody would be talking of it and looking for those gentlemen while she, herself, would attempt to avoid them. It all seemed too fraught. Though she had looked forward to her first season, there were moments when she wished herself back in Surrey, quietly reading by the fire and petting Mayhem while the dog chewed up something valuable. This was one such moment.
Now, as their carriage waited in the line leading to the front doors, Lady Marksworth said, “You are very quiet, Cassandra.”
Cassandra smiled. “Am I? I did not mean to be. I suppose the size of this ball makes me rather feel as if I might get lost and never be found again.”
“Heavens,” Lady Marksworth said, laughing, “though I do enjoy a card table, you do not suppose I would leave you on your own in such a place? The Tremanes’ ball was a different matter; it was small and everybody there was well-known to me. But here, though I assuredly know many of the people and have at least heard of most, I will stay nearby.”
Cassandra was both relieved and yet slightly worried. She would wish her aunt to forgo disappearing into a card room. However, Lady Marksworth had made no mystery of her favorable opinion of the pact and the gentlemen involved in it. While Cassandra would seek to avoid them, her aunt would be pleased to see just the opposite.
“The Bergrams,” her aunt went on, “though they are generally dull, are clever in some respects. Their ballroom is so large that there are tables set round the dancing area. I and Lady Blanding shall occupy one of them.”
Her aunt would have her in view all evening. It would not be so easy to refuse one of these pact gentlemen, were she asked for a dance.
Cassandra paused. How exactly had she planned to refuse anyway? She and Sybil had determined that they would, but how was it to be done, precisely? If one of those gentlemen approached and asked for her card, was she to stare boldly at the man and say no? Then she must sit out, and in any case, others would have seen what occurred, including her aunt.
It had all seemed easy while being discussed with Sybil in the safety of her bedchamber, but rather more difficult to achieve now that she’d nearly arrived. Particularly more difficult as her aunt and Lady Blanding would be happily watching from some nearby table.
“Do cheer yourself, Cass,” her aunt said kindly, “you are absolutely stunning. You will not find yourself sitting out. In any case, if I remember correctly from last year, there will be so many gentlemen about that Lady Bergram will even have a master of ceremonies or two wending their way round to smooth over introductions. Who knows who you shall meet?”
Though her aunt pretended at ignorance over who Cassandra might meet, she had an uncomfortable feeling that Lady Marksworth harbored hopes that at least six of those newly met gentlemen would be destined for a dukedom.
The carriage jerked forward and they moved ever closer to the entrance. Two men on horseback reined in their spooked horses, those animals startled by the sudden movement of the line of coaches.
Cassandra heard one of them curse as he wrangled with a large bay. He sat tall in the saddle and worked his horse as one with vast experience, most likely from the war. She’d seen for herself the difference when their neighbor Sir George had returned from the continent—there was a confidence and skill that could not come from daily rides through the countryside or the occasional fox hunt.
The man on horseback turned his head and Cassandra noted his dark hair and strong jaw, his shadow illuminated by the torches lining the drive. His coat and cravat were elegantly simple—the coat cut well, and the cravat tied in a neat but unassuming fashion. He was what her father termed “a man’s man.” The Viscount could not abide a gentleman who appeared to have taken inordinate amounts of time to dress and thought Mr. Brummel should pitch himself off a bridge. That Mr. Brummel was rumored to have fled England to escape gambling debts only confirmed to him that dandies were useless.
