“No, I meant…from the motion. You don’t look like you’re having fun, and that is not like you.”
“I thought I’d rest my eyes before the party began,” she lied. “Besides, all this dust on the lane—”
“Don’t say it. Not one word about rain. You’ll curse us.”
Cassandra opened her eyes to discover the village fading from sight. In its place was a rambling country track through the hills, lined on both sides by jagged stone fences and hedgerows. There were trees, meadows, and distant tunnels carved out by the railway.
She had only ventured from Longstone once in her life, and the railway had not yet come to their part of Derbyshire back then. To see the scars that progress had left upon the land now came as something of a shock.
The world had changed while she’d sat at home dreaming of something adventurous. Perhaps Honoria had been right to lift the shades, to wave at their neighbors. To press her face to the glass and enjoy the ride.
“The gates!” her sister cried, placing a hand upon her knee. “Cass, we are here!”
Indeed, Lord Althorne’s coachman steered his horses between two stone pillars. The carriage descended a private drive that sawed through the dales. A canopy of leafy green trees provided a shady banner, welcoming the new arrivals.
The two sisters squeezed their hoop skirts together on the bench to spy from both sides of the carriage.
Caswell Hall was larger than anything they’d ever seen—larger, surely, than the historic palaces illustrated in Papa’s lesson books. It sat deep in the valley, forming its own private nugget of countryside. Lattice windows winked in the afternoon sun, crowned by a tall, gabled, lead-tiled roof.
“I wonder which room is Octavia’s?”
Cassandra frowned. “Doubtless one of the smaller ones. She is the governess, not mistress of the manor.”
“But, still…imagine waking up in that house every morning. One would certainlyfeellike the mistress no matter how tiny one’s window.”
It truly was a magnificent house, as grand as Octavia had described. Caswell Hall was the perfect home for the eldest Staunton sister, and Cassandra felt a stab of jealousy. A woman could find her purpose in such a place.
The viscount’s carriage rattled down the drive. His lively team tossed their heads and flicked their tails as the coachman slowed them to a stop beneath the columnedporte-cochère.
Cassandra peered through the window to see her beloved elder sister standing on the steps beside a gentleman wearing a tall, beaver hat and an immaculately-tailored frock coat.
Truth be told, they looked more like the lord and lady of the manor than an employer and his governess, though it was kind of His Lordship to join Octavia as she greeted her guests.
Her sister rushed down the steps to meet them. Cassandra and Honoria were handed down from the carriage, and all three ladies embraced as if they hadn’t seen one another in ages. For a moment, they were all aflutter.
“Come and meet His Lordship,” Octavia said, taking her sisters by their gloved hands.
The eldest Staunton sister wore a muslin garibaldi blouse and silk skirt, and her dark hair had been smoothed back and twisted into an ivory comb. She did notlooklike a governess—and from the eager glances His Lordship kept sneaking at her pretty figure, he did not consider her a mere employee.
“Cassandra, Honoria, may I present Lord Althorne? My Lord, these are my sisters, Miss Cassandra Staunton…”
Cassandra curtseyed.
“And Miss Honoria Staunton.”
Honoria dipped as well. The youngest sister regarded him with wide eyes, for he was nothing like they’d imagined him to be.
Lord Althorne swept his tall hat from his blond head and bowed. “Misses Staunton, how do you do? I am so pleased to have you at Caswell.”
Cassandra spoke, for Honoria could not seem to find her tongue in the presence of this handsome, aristocratic male. “We are glad to be here, My Lord, and much obliged to you for sending your carriage.”
He flashed a bright smile at the awestruck ladies. “I am forever telling Octavia to make use of the thing. It’s a long walk to the village and back. No use getting dusty and trampled in the lane.”
Lord Althorne escorted them inside, chatting and laughing as a butler pulled the door closed behind them.
“I’ve had a room prepared for you,” their host said. “Feel free to rest or freshen up at your leisure. You did bring your evening frocks, didn’t you?” They nodded, and he continued, merrily, “I’ll have them pressed and delivered. In the meantime, please, enjoy your afternoon.”
With that, he bowed and left them in Octavia’s care.
