“I’ve only ever been a Longstone girl,” she said as they walked the fragrant lavender-lined path, “but Wenna vows she’ll make a ‘proper Cornishwoman’ out of me, whatever that means.”
“Since my family has only been settled here for the past two hundred years, I’m not certain thatIam even a ‘proper Cornishman.’ ”
A fair point, though one needn’t be native-born to call a place home. The concept of ‘home’ meant many things to many different people. “I hope to belong here. I want so badly to be a part of what is yours.”
His dark eyes met hers. “You will, in time. Today is but the beginning. I am certain your sister did not conquer Caswell Hall on her first day as governess.”
No, indeed. Octavia had struggled to find her place in Lord Althorne’s household. It had taken the eldest Staunton sister weeks to win her employer’s trust and emerge as lady of the manor.
Cassandra was less patient—she longed forhertime to blossom.
They walked, chatting and laughing to pass the time. One mile proved a longer distance than she’d imagined, but whenever her pace lagged or her feet stumbled, Wade slowed to accommodate her. He said nothing about her lack of stamina. Indeed, he never scolded her for being too delicate to endure the heat, or too sickly, or foolish for declining both the carriageanda parasol.
The change in his stride was almost imperceptible, and a less observant woman might’ve accused him of being oblivious or inconsiderate. Cassandra knew Wade well enough to recognize that he had, in fact, been aware of her struggle. He was far more sensitive than folk gave him credit for—he’d been sorely misjudged by everyone he kept at arm’s length, and only a rare few ever knew him well enough to change their opinion.
Wadebridge knew that this walk, this challenge, this first taste of independence meant a great deal to her, and without a word of acknowledgment, let her navigate their journey at a pacesheset.
He was a dear, sweet man, and Cassandra loved him for it. He was giving her the life she’d always dreamed of—one that had escaped her in sleepy Longstone—and treated her like a woman instead of an invalid.
Cassandra dreaded the coming week, when her traitorous body would prove him wrong. She felt the cramping ache in her belly and the tenderness of her breasts even now.
Wade stopped abruptly on the path. “Wait,” he said, turning to her. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Trust me and close your eyes.”
She did as he asked.
“Keep hold of my hand. I shan’t let you tumble over the cliffs.”
He led her onward, taking careful steps. His booted feet crunched in the gravel. Long grass brushed her skirts, and salty wind whipped her hair.
Awet, salty wind. Cassandra realized the sound of the gulls had been drowned out by the lashing of waves. The heat of the sun felt somehow tempered by a cool sea breeze that fanned her flushed face.
He dropped her hand, moving his fingers to her corseted waist. He held her firmly, carefully.
“Wade…” she said, testing the ground with the toe of her shoe. They’d left the gravel path. A sudden rush of uncertainty overtook her, and she retreated.
But he was there behind her. Protecting her, supporting her without standing in her way. “Mind your hoops,” he said over the roar of the sea. “I’d hate for this wind to pick you up and carry you away.”
Cassandra pressed her palms to her skirts. Petticoats flapped beneath the thin checked muslin. Her cage-crinoline was pinned between his thighs and hers, but one strong gust might catch it like a sail.
Thank goodness Wade kept hold of her hips.
“Open your eyes whenever you’re ready.”
She was readynow.She’d been ready all her life. This was the moment she’d been waiting for—she was going to see the sea!
Cassandra’s eyelids fluttered. She tested the brightness of the sun and the glare off the water, for she was a cautious woman by nature, and opened her eyes in careful degrees.
When she widened her gaze to take it all in, she was glad for that small hesitation, as the beauty she beheld would’ve surely struck her blind.
“Oh!”
Blue stretched for miles—the blue of the sea, the blue of the sky. The horizon was so blue, when all her life, she’d looked out over the dales and seen green.
Cassandra stood at the edge of a jagged cliff. She glanced down and grew dizzy, for they were a very long way from the soft, golden sand below. Waves thundered against the rocks that peppered the shoreline. With each crash, a spray of foam erupted, and then scattered to the wind.
