Why? Because they were not wealthy. Because they were not connected.
Cassandra stared daggers into Eugenie Raines’ perfectly-coiffed hair. She longed to strangle the young woman with that rope of pearls draped ‘round her neck. She wished she could’ve trod upon her Mauvine hems—who in Longstone could afford vivid, artificial dye that did not fade or bleed?
Unfortunately, Cassandra learned a long time ago that life was not fair. Part of being a lady was not necessarily accepting one’s fate, but rising to the challenges one faced within those bounds.
The group waited for Wadebridge, who had not yet offered his hand to Mrs. Raines. His Grace shuffled his feet on the carpet. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Come, now, Wadebridge,” Lord Crewe urged. “Be a sport.”
His Grace dug in his heels. “I shan’t do it.”
Was the duke making a protest, or having a tantrum? Either way, he was about to ruin Lord Althorne’s dinner party.
“I am a duke. I’m sure it is written somewhere—likely in the Bible—that a duke never has to do anything he does not want to do. We made the rules, therefore, we are exempt from them.”
Lady Crewe laughed. “I do not believe that is how it works, Your Grace…”
Lord Althorne sighed. Surely, by now, he must be accustomed to the duke’s bad temper. “Wade, let the lady take your arm. It is but a short walk down the hall.”
“Yes, a short walk down the hall and an interminable dinner seated between a viper and a peacock. Our entire British society has been constructed to elevate certain women, whilst all but trampling others.”
He looked pointedly at Cassandra. His Grace lifted his dark brows, as if to say,‘Look what I have done for you, Miss Staunton. Aren’t you pleased?’
Damn her, but she was pleased! She had not appreciated being made to feel less-than simply because she’d been raised in genteel poverty. She had not enjoyed being pushed to the rear of the queue.
It was just as well that Lady Crewe seemed to sense all that. “If His Grace wishes to excuse himself from the ranks, we’ll simply shuffle down a partner.”
The countess demonstrated using her husband, “Crewe, you will escort Mrs. Raines. Mr. Swygert will walk with Eugenie, and—I am sorry—the Misses Staunton shall followsansescort.” She turned to Wadebridge. “His Grace must bring up the rear, should he truly wish to practice what he preaches.”
A grateful, knowing glance passed between the two, and Cassandra sensed that Lady Crewe and Wadebridge were somehow working together. Conspiring to put the duke further down the line.
His Grace joined the sisters in the shadow of the doorway. Though he sulked for the benefit of the other guests, he was not truly in a temper. Indeed, he seemed happy at Cassandra’s side, even if it meant losing rank for the night.
They let the group pull ahead. Wadebridge walked beside her down the walnut-paneled passage. Lamplit sconces illuminated his dark face, yet the flames were unable to banish the shadows there.
She had been angry with him—for his own good—but it wounded her to imagine the duke partnered with either Raines women. Cassandra was not certain she could’ve choked down her supper watching Wadebridge dine at the prestigious end of the table.
He touched her elbow softly. “I seem to have a problem with authority.”
His fingers warmed the soft kid leather of her gloves, and she resisted the urge to lean into the palm of his hand.
“It is not such a bad problem to have when oneisthe authority.”
“Would you believe me,” he asked, “if I told you that I know what it feels like to be bullied, embarrassed, and overruled? There was no one to stand up for me when I needed it. Now, I make it a point to speak up whenever I feel an injustice has been done. Leah should not have been scolded. Miss Octavia should not have been shamed for earning her living, and you, Cassandra, must never be relegated to the rear.”
He’d slipped and used her Christian name—or it had not been a mistake at all.
“Thank you, Your Grace, but I do not need you to fight my battles. You forget, I live near the Raineses. Tonight, I shall return to Longstone, where I must pass the mother in the street or nod to Eugenie at Sunday services. Once you’re gone, you may wash your hands of them forever.”
He smirked as if he knew a great secret. His Grace bent to whisper, “Althorne will evict them. They needn’t trouble you again.”
“Because of…me?” Surely not! Cassandra couldn’t bearthaton her conscience.
Wadebridge shrugged. “Because of Leah.”
She breathed easier. Of course, Lord Althorne would never allow anyone to mistreat his niece. His Lordship doted on the child, as any good uncle should. Being the premier landlord in the dales, he wouldn’t rent property to such offensive tenants.
“I expect they’ll be out by summer’s end.” Wadebridge added, “They shan’t show their faces in Derbyshire again.”
