“Immediatelyafter supper?”
“We shan’t be staying for coffee and entertainment. Honoria and I must return while it is still safe enough to do so.”
Surely, Simon wouldn’t risk the sisters traveling after dark when Caswell Hall boasted a dozen bedrooms. “How rude of our host not to let you ladies stay the night.”
“On the contrary, Your Grace, we are eager to return home. We’ve never slept a night away from our beds.”
Wade couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in his own bed. It was a black pit of loneliness with a mattress on top. He could never rest with that void pricking at him through the feather tick.
He pictured Cassandra Staunton safe and snug beneath the covers. She lived a life of blameless virtue, her slumber untroubled by her spotless conscience. Ifhehad such a life and such a woman, he might sleep, too.
Indeed, Wade longed for it.
Dinner progressed at—what seemed to him—a dizzying pace. Every course, every mouthful, every plate cleared away brought them closer to the end of the evening.
We’ll be leaving after supper.
Wade cut into his roast venison, repeating her warning in his head. He’d known they would go, as all good things inevitably came to an end, but he had hoped for the rest of the night to win her affections.
There would be music, possibly dancing. Champagne and good humor. Later, there would have been moonlit corridors and candlelit alcoves where he might’ve pressed a kiss to her soft lips.
Such was the way of country house parties. Wade had attended his share over the years, and had watched with amusement as young gentlemen made cakes of themselves over comely debutantes not yet jaded by the marriage mart. He’d never imagined himself in their shoes, but now felt cheated of his chance at romance.
Cassandra raised one slender, kid-gloved arm as a footman refreshed her wineglass. The Château Margeaux had been an excellent choice, and Wade commended Simon for bringing the best bottles up from his cellar. It paired well with the meal without being too strong for the ladies to enjoy.
The footman disappeared down the line of guests. Wade caught Simon’s eye and lifted his glass in a mock salute. The head of the table was a long way from the foot, and it seemed that both their attempts at romance had been thwarted, for Octavia was huddled in conversation with Tom Swygert, and Cassandra had all but shrank fromhimafter his bold admission.
What a shame if the two old friends went to their dotage as lifelong bachelors.
Wade swiveled in his chair to face his pretty companion. With guests nibbling on the last morsels of their main course, time was running out. Already, the hall clock counted down the minutes—not hours—until Cassandra returned home.
“Miss Staunton, won’t you permit me to show you the Reynolds?”
She folded her hands in her lap. She blinked down at the pristine white serviette resting against the pale apricot silk of her dinner frock. “Why should I?”
“Because I think you will like it,” he said. “In fact, I suspect you’ll love it.”
At that, she looked up. Blue eyes met his, and he saw uncertainty in their depths. “Love, sir?”
He ought not to presume to know what she would or would not love, but Wade suspected the painting would bring more than just a smile to her face. It would cheer her heart, and perhaps endear him to her in a way that words could not.
“Come and see it,” he begged.
“Now?”
A servant had just placed a dish of summer berries in champagne jelly on the table. Each guest was served an individual mould, and the party delighted in their whimsical shapes of suspended fruits.
How could he lure her away from a light, refreshing, wobbling little sweet?
Wade smiled. “Eat your dessert first. Then, meet me in the hall.”
“Is it to be clandestine, then?” She would not feel comfortable with such a rendezvous.
“No, indeed. I’ve permission from Althorne to show the painting. I asked him whilst you were dressing. He knows where we’ll be.” Wade placed his napkin on the table and moved to rise.
Cassandra stopped him with a press of her hand against his jacket sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“To take the air. Don’t worry.”
