Cassandra relaxed, letting her skirt hems fall. The fabric was already sodden, and her arms trembled from the exertion. Surely, she would collapse into her pew despite the hard wooden seat and the damp chill of a rainy Sunday. The refuge of the church doors stood only a few paces away. She couldn’t wait to sit and catch her breath.
Honoria ambled along beside her, unfazed by the walk or the weather. Indeed, her younger sister had slowed her pace so that she did not leaveherbehind.
Cassandra was grateful. There were moments when she forgot about her weakness, and then there were moments where her body’s shortcomings fairly slapped her in the face. A brisk tramp through a rainstorm was something most folk took for granted.
She longed to ruck her skirts up and run.
A cold, gloved hand gripped hers. Cassandra turned to greet Miss Mary Brooks, whose arm slipped through hers, pulling her in close for a confidence. Mary was a new face in the village, having taken over Mama’s position as schoolmistress only last year. The Staunton sisters had once resented this young woman taking their mother’s place, but such jealousy was foolish and unbecoming.
It had taken Octavia and Honoria many months to warm up to the newcomer, but Cassandra had swallowed her pride and cultivated a friendship with the jolly, chatty Miss Brooks. Now, they greeted one another warmly in the churchyard.
“Cassandra, there is such gossip!” Mary whispered over the pelting rain. “The Duke of Wadebridge spent the night at the White Lion. Mr. Harris was practically shouting it from the rooftops,” Miss Brooks explained. “His Grace arrived on the evening train with his manservant in tow. I hear they made quite a striking pair as they crossed the village green—though I suppose I needn’t tellyouthat. You’re acquainted with the gentleman, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “My sisters and I met the duke at Caswell Hall. He is a dear friend of Lord Althorne. It is hardly a surprise that His Grace is visiting again.”
But itwasa surprise. It had come as a great shock to find the man darkening her doorstep. He had entered her home, sat on her sofa, sipped tea and left crumbs on her carpet. Did the residents of Longstone realize that the Duke of Wadebridge had come to court her?
She braced as Mary spoke, “My dear Cassandra, you cannot fool me, for I heard from Mr. Harris himself that the duke was asking after you. His Grace may be a friend of Lord Althorne’s, but he is here foryou.”
“Please don’t say another word!” Cassandra gripped her friend’s sleeve beneath her rain cloak. She squeezed with all her might. “I cannot help that the man has singled me out. I’ve done nothing to encourage it.”
Honoria walked beside them, silently disapproving. Thankfully, her sister did not confess the lie—that Cassandra might not have encouraged His Grace’s attention, but she hadn’t turned him away. In fact, she had allowed him to pay his call against her better judgment.
Perhaps, in her secret heart, Cassandra thrilled at the thought of that big, elegant body crowding the sitting room of their cottage. He was so darkly handsome. No woman alive could refuse him, yet he only had eyes forher.
A little attention was flattering, yet she felt deep embarrassment to be the source of gossip in her village. If Mary Brooks had heard the whispers, all Longstone knew.
“They say he’s an unscrupulous seducer,” Miss Brooks continued. “The Devil in a frock coat! And while heisa bachelor duke, you cannot marry him even if he offered. Still, it is tempting…”
The three ladies entered the church. Once they found their seats, the doors closed at their backs, and soon the sound of hymns and prayers drowned out the sound of driving rain.
Mr. Morton’s sermons never failed to sooth her nerves, though they frequently numbed her legs and put a sore ache in her bottom. He was long-winded and the oaken pews were hard, cold, and—today—damp.
Cassandra rose and limped along with the rest of Longstone’s faithful as they left the church. She saw the weather had not improved during the service.
Thankfully, Honoria was quick to deploy her umbrella. The Staunton sisters—and, now, Mary Brooks—huddled beneath its shelter as they stepped over the threshold.
The churchyard was a frequent gathering place, where villagers mingled to discuss the sermon, catch up on weekly news, and share in some good-natured gossip. Cassandra expected to see ladies mingling on the path, but felt a cold chill race up her spine as eye after eye turned inherdirection.
News of Wadebridge’s arrival had certainly spread. So, too, had her part in it.
Whispers rippled throughout the crowd. Suspicious gazes raised to meet knowing smiles, for it seemed that the beautiful Miss Cassandra Staunton hadfinallyfound a suitor worthy of her charms and graces. The more sensible—and, perhaps, more worldly—neighbors sighed with resignation, for not even the most virtuous maiden could resist the attentions of a rich duke.
Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion.
Cassandra wished they’d mind their own business. Of course, a pretty maiden being courted by a notorious nobleman was unheard of in their quiet little corner of the country. It was like something out of a storybook. Had it been anyone else, Cassandra would’ve been eager to join in the tattle, yet being the source of such speculation was altogether unpleasant.
“Oh, dear Lord!” Honoria stopped abruptly.
Cassandra nearly crashed into her. Crowded beneath the umbrella, she glanced over her sister’s shoulder as the throng parted. Noteveryeye, it seemed, had been trained upon her—at least half of the churchyard pivoted toward the figure standing at the lych gate.
Mary Brooks gasped. “Is that him?”
Cassandra nodded. The Duke of Wadebridge was waiting for her.
He wore a sack coat straight from London. His silk waistcoat and neckcloth rivaled anything seen on the lanes of Longstone. A closed umbrella rested at his thigh. The polished wooden handle lay gripped in his gloved hand. She watched his fingers flex at the sight of her.
Miss Brooks could hardly tear her eyes from the man. “My dear Cassandra, he is even more handsome than we have been led to believe! How clever you are to try and keep His Grace all to yourself.”
