She raised her own glass, letting the crystal catch the light. A rainbow of colors played across her cheeks. Her beauty, her boldness, stole his breath away.
He mooned at her from the head of the table. She must’ve noticed his slack, lovestruck face.
“What?” she asked, pinkening.
He hesitated. Was he truly about to make a fool of himself?
“Wade, what is it?”
He downed his drink in one gulp before admitting, “You may be the most beautiful woman in Britain, but I am the luckiest man in the world.”
Wade never imagined that he could fall in love, or that there would be a woman out there who would see him, accept him, and love him in return. Despite the odds, they had met each other and—together—found the strength to take that plunge.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Duke of Wadebridge was not the sort of man to pay flattering compliments. In fact, he’d embarrassed himself with his honeyed words. His sun-bronzed cheeks had flushed scarlet the moment that remark escaped from his lips:
“You may be the most beautiful woman in Britain, but I am the luckiest man in the world.”
He’d gulped down his drink to hide his mortification. Cassandra had not felt embarrassed, though—even now, hours later—her flesh warmed at the memory. Wade loved her. He wanted her. He considered her presence in his life to be a great gift bestowed upon a most unworthy recipient.
It was gratifying, but only because he meant every word of it. Cassandra had long ago learned to tell the difference between a man intent on cajolery and a true gentleman who had simply been awestruck by her appearance.
She liked to imagine Wade fell somewhere in the middle—desirous of seduction, yet still honorable enough to behave. He was going to be terribly disappointed when he discovered that she could never be a true mistress to him.
Cassandra sank deeper into her bath. The scented, steaming water lapped her shoulders, and she rested her cheek against the soft sheet draped over the lip of the tub. Daily bathing was a burden to those servants tasked with heating and carrying her water, but it proved too relaxing an extravagance to give up.
She’d learned from Wenna that Wadebridge bathed every morning and shaved twice per day. His Grace was meticulously clean, according to his staff. Drawing a nightly bath for their new mistress wasn’t out of the ordinary, in their eyes.
Indeed, the unkempt maid seemed to relish fussing over her. Wenna hovered just behind the privacy screen, ready to fetch whatever Cassandra might need, or to refresh her bathwater as it grew cold.
No task was too trivial. Cassandra was almost sorry not to give the girl more to do, as she was accustomed to taking care of herself—at least on her good days.
She struck upon an idea as she soaked and daydreamed of Wade. “I wonder if you might run an errand for me…”
Wenna poked her wild-haired head ‘round the screen. “I’d do anything for ‘ee, ma’am.”
“It is a very special errand. Asecreterrand that I’m not sure I can trust to anyone else.”
Her mob cap fairly trembled.
“Are you on friendly terms with the duke’s valet? Martin, I believe he’s called.”
She deflated slightly. “We do pass a word now and then, but him’s an upper servant, and not for the likes of me.”
“I see.” Yes, there would be a hierarchy among the staff. A housemaid of sixteen must fall awfully low on the pecking order at Pender Abbey. “But aren’tyouan upper servant now, Wenna? Since you are my lady’s maid, are you not tasked with seeing to my very important, very personal business?”
The maid’s eyes lit up. “I reckon so!”
The girl wouldn’t be so enthusiastic in a few days, when her mistress was miserable and incapacitated.
“I require a handkerchief that belongs to the duke—a fine, plain white one.”
“Cannot ‘ee not ask His Grace for such a token? Seems he be willing, since you’re his…” Wenna blushed, unable to speak the words.
They brought a flush to Cassandra’s cheeks, as well. “I wish to give His Grace a gift. I plan to embroider a handkerchief for him, but mine are too feminine to be used by a man, even if only carried in his pocket. So, you see, I need one of his, and I need to be discreet.”
The maid nodded, understanding. “I can ask ‘afore breakfast.”
