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And he would never love her, however much it seemed on occasion he was physically attracted to her. The Earl of Lydford had no time for gauche girls fresh out of the schoolroom.
She could imagine his embarrassment, how kind he would be if he discovered her tendre. She could live without his love, somehow, but she couldn’t bear his pity.
‘Cassandra, wait a moment.’
She hesitated on the threshold of the bedchamber, her arms full of Nicholas’s freshly pressed shirts, then reluctantly came back into the room.
‘Yes?’
‘I need to talk to you, sit down.’ Nicholas gestured to the chair opposite him in front of the cold fireplace. ‘I’ve scarcely seen you the last two days, you haven’t even eaten your meals with me.’
Cassandra sat down awkwardly, still hugging the shirts to her chest. ‘The doctor said you had to be quiet,’ she said defensively. ‘And you did say I could explore the town.’
‘I have no complaint if you wish to go about and enjoy yourself.’ He hesitated, obviously at a loss to know how to deal with her in this uncommunicative mood. ‘I was worried about you.’
Still she wouldn’t look at him, risk meeting his eyes. Instead she sat scuffing the parquet with the toe of her shoe.
‘I know what it is that’s troubling you,’ he began, then broke off as the fierce blush swept up to the roots of her hair.
Cassandra felt sick with humiliation. How could he have guessed how she felt for him? Oh, the mortification of it. He was going to be kind about it, she could tell. Tolerant of this puppy love. He wouldn’t take her seriously, or worse, he would pity her.
‘I can see I was right,’ he began. ‘It pains me to embarrass you, but I think we should talk of it.’
‘How did you guess?’ Cassandra whispered.
‘It was natural you should be upset to find you had fallen asleep in my bed the other evening. After all, you are a gently brought up young woman. But we shouldn’t reproach ourselves for what was entirely innocent.’ He leant forward and patted her hand gently. ‘We had both suffered a terrible shock, but it was natural we should fall asleep like that. Try not to feel so conscious of it, Cassie, nothing happened, after all.’
Cassandra could only gape at him. He thought she was stricken because she had slept in his arms for an hour? And she had so very nearly blurted out her love for him.
Nicholas obviously misinterpreted her expression. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Cassie.’ He stood up and ranged around the room while he searched for the right words for what he had to say. ‘I admit there have been moments when my… instincts have led me to regard you in a way I now regret.’
‘Like that evening in Paris?’ Cassandra heard her own voice sharp with reaction.
‘Yes, like Paris.’ Nicholas turned to face her. ‘But I promise that won’t happen again, Cassandra.’ He managed a laugh, although it sounded hollow in the high-ceilinged room. ‘Do you realise how good you are for me? Why, I declare, by the time we arrive in Vienna, my mother will not recognise the man she left behind, I will have become so responsible and sober.’
Nicholas was as good as his word. Two weeks later, as their carriage neared the Venetian lagoon, Cassandra reflected that she could hardly have had a more sober, correct, boring companion if Godmama had appointed a strict chaperone for her.
Nicholas had dutifully pointed out the beauties of the Plain of Lombardy, encouraged her to read improving passages from the guidebooks he acquired along the way and ensured she went to bed early after a good dinner.
Even the excitements of passing from one independent kingdom or duchy to another were kept from her, for Nicholas insisted she stay in the carriage while he ruthlessly bribed officials and negotiated passports and health certificates at the endless customs posts.
By the time they reached Padua, Cassandra had decided she had been quite mistaken: far from being in love with the man, she actively disliked him.
With bad grace she clumped on board the burchio waiting to take them down the Brenta Canal from Padua to Venice and glowered out at the unlovely town crowding the banks.
‘Stop s
ulking, Cassie,’ Nicholas said sharply, then seemed to relent. In a softer tone, he added, ‘I’m sorry, I should have realised. Are you frightened to go on a boat again?’
‘No.’ She scowled down into the greenish depths of the still water. It was true, she wasn’t afraid, not on this placid canal. She was quite simply bored. ‘I’m bored. I’m tired of dirty inns and bumpy roads and greasy food and no diversions at all. And don’t say you warned me, I know you did.’
That was only part of it. Nicholas had withdrawn into the half avuncular, half patronising manner of their first meeting in London. If he had ever found her tempting or alluring, it was quite plain he no longer did. Sulking was not going to improve matters, but she was too hot, tired, dusty and cross to care.
‘If you don’t take that mulish look off your face, I’ll tell the officials in Venice that you haven’t got a bill of health and they’ll shut you up in the Lazarrette for forty days with all the pestilential seamen.’
Cassandra glowered at him. He was only half-joking and it seemed he was as tired of her company as she was of his. ‘Well, it would have to be more entertaining than the last fourteen days.’
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed, and not against the slanting evening sun. ‘You are asking to be put across my knee and have your britches paddled, my lad,’ he began between clenched teeth.
