“Believe me, madam, I meant no disrespect in coming here. I only wished to renew our acquaintance. I so enjoyed the time we spent together at Caswell Hall, but if you do not feel the same…” He eased back, giving her space.
Cassandra leaned forward, claiming the space he’d vacated. “You are rude. Presumptuous. You knew your presence would cause me embarrassment, yet you do not care.”
She knew him so well, did she?
“And you hold in contempt any man who has ever paid you a modicum of attention. Why, because you think yourself elevated so far above my brutish sex? That your pretty face puts you beyond my reach?”
A hot flush stained her high cheeks. “My appearance has nothing to do with my feelings for you,Your Grace.”
“Yet you assume that it has everything to do withmyfeelings foryou.”
“Doesn’t it?” she asked.
Cassandra gave him a perfect view of her profile, as cold and as flawless as if it had been carved from marble by one of the great Grecian masters. Damn her! Wade did not love her for her looks, but he could not deny the physical attraction he felt.
He was a man, after all—brutish or not.
She turned abruptly, catching him slightly off guard.
Wade knew when to lie, to flatter and cajole, but he owed Cassandra Staunton the truth. Sometimes, blunt words were better than sweet talk.
“I could not see your face,” he explained, “that day at Caswell Hall. Your sisters were gathered ‘round you, blocking you. You had your back to me, if you recall, admiring a Gainsborough painting. I was lured by your sweet voice, but I stayed to hear you speak.
“I’d never known a woman who could identify art at a glance. Perhaps, I’d never given any ladies the chance.” He shrugged. “I admit I am a scoundrel, but I likeyou, Cassandra, for your intelligence and refinement as well as your beauty.”
“Then I am obliged to you, Your Grace, for your honesty.”
He nodded. Perhaps she would look on him a little more favorably now.
Miss Honoria appeared in the kitchen doorway carrying the tea tray. The service was simple, perhaps even second-hand, but the spread was generous. He saw a plate of cakes and smelled a brew of good, strong tea.
Wade took a generous helping of both.
Cassandra took nothing, while her sister settled an appropriate distance from him on the sofa, cup and saucer in hand. Their cottage may have been shabby, but the Staunton sisters proved excellent hostesses. Despite the genteel poverty they suffered, they were ladies of the finest quality.
Surely, they outclassed him by miles. He had no business here, sipping from a chipped cup. Basking in their hospitality. They really ought to throw him out.
“Won’t you ruin your supper, Your Grace?” Cassandra asked. “Roast chicken, I believe you said it was to be.”
A ghost of a smile played at her lips. Did she really wish him gone?
“Indeed, I am expected.” Wade locked eyes with her over the rim of his teacup. “Tell me, how is the fare at the White Lion?”
At that, she truly smiled. “Excellent! My sisters and I have always considered it a treat to dine there.”
“Oh, yes!” said Honoria. “You shan’t be disappointed, Your Grace.”
How unfortunate for them that they considered dinner at the local inn to be a luxury.
He had dined at the greatest tables in all England, sampled cuisine from the finest restaurants on the Continent. Wade ate food worthy of princes, emperors, and kings.
He finished his tea. “I suppose I had better go before the rain makes for a wet walk.” He placed his empty cup and saucer on the tray, and then stood. “Thank you both for your hospitality. You are most kind.”
Honoria Staunton rose to her feet. She really was a pretty thing, all wide-eyed and smiling. A man’s gaze was drawn to her like a gluttonous moth to a bright flame. She’d make some fellow a lovely wife, but her feminine magnetism was wasted in Longstone.
Miss Honoria was unsuited to the life of a cobbler’s wife, or a laborer’s, or even a clerk’s. Wade had felt it in his blood the first time he met the three ladies. Octavia Staunton was meant to be a viscountess—Simon’s viscountess. Cassandra was destined for nothing less than a duchess.
Hisduchess.
