Wade grinned and she smiled. They both laughed at that absurd endearment. He kissed her hand once more, and swore that her luminous smile brightened the room.
It certainly brightened his heart.
Wade could not remember the last time it had thumped so hard in his chest. So proud and determined, so steady and certain of its choice:Her. Her. Her.
She was the woman for him.
If only he could makehersee…
Wade released her hand and sat up. He had things to do, letters to write, plans to hopefully set in motion, and there was little time to spare. He’d spent a great deal of the day thinking about her, dreaming about her. He’d all but commandeered her sofa for his cause.
“My valet will be wondering what has become of me,” he said, running a hand over his sleep-matted hair. “And we’ve taken enough chances as it is, for I’m not sure I can sit through another one of your hourly proposals.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes. How charming! How very unladylike! “They are not hourly…”
“Daily, then.” She stood so he could swing his legs over the side of the sofa. Wade could not resist teasing her. “Kindly fetch my boots, madam, if you can find your way through all the betrothal rings you’ve amassed. They must lead like breadcrumbs straight to your doorstep.”
She laughed, but did as he asked. Wade hauled on his boots while she watched. He’d dressed a hundred times in front of a hundred women, yet this moment—with her—felt strangely intimate.
He was conscious of every move, every huff and groan, and of his height as he stood before her. She was not a small woman, yet he towered above her. He was not overly-burly, yet he could have easily mastered her.
Wade suddenly feared all those faceless men beating a path to her door.
“Cassandra…” He had never been anyone’s champion. Indeed, he usually lurked on the other side of some brave fellow’s good intentions, for women wanted protecting fromhim.“Should you need me, I am just across the green.”
They both turned to the window. The lamps of the White Lion were visible through the haze of rain. He pointed out his room to her.
“That is my window, there on the upper floor. It looks down over the village, over your cottage. I shall leave a candle burning tonight, and tomorrow night, and every night whilst I am here. If any of your suitors give you trouble, remember I am only one flickering flame away.”
***
Cassandra finished the last of the pork pie and tidied the kitchen, leaving her buttercup posy in pride of place—they glowed from their vase in the center of the dining table.
Honoria fingered the soft petals. “These are pretty. Wherever did they come from?”
The youngest Staunton sister had spent the day socializing with her friends, and only returned home after the shops had shuttered for the night.
“A gift from Wadebridge,” Cassandra said. “Half are for you.”
Honoria turned to face her, brows raised. “He came, then?”
She nodded. “And stayed for much of the afternoon.”
“You took a risk being alone with him.”
They both knew that Cassandra had nevertrulybeen alone with a gentleman before, and spending a day with the duke had been a shocking flout of convention. Reckless in the extreme.
She snatched the buttercups from her sister’s hand. “He would never harm me.”
“No, indeed, I don’t believe he would—only your reputation.” Honoria eyed her curiously. “When did you become his staunch defender?”
“He isn’t what we believed him to be. He has been misunderstood and is hurting.” Wadebridge was a good man with a warm heart begging to be accepted and embraced. He might never be anyone’s knight in shining armor, but His Grace was chivalrous to those who mattered to him. “At any rate, he offered to protect me from George…”
“George Fulton? Whatever hashedone?”
“Proposed marriage.” Cassandra cringed. She had debated telling Honoria, as the news would upset her younger sister. But wouldn’t keeping silent only hurt her worse?
“Everyone in Derbyshire knows you cannot marry or have children, and yet they queue up to beg for your hand. I thought George, of all people, knew you well enough not to waste his time.”
