Judging from the aged box and the rare quality of the pearls nestled inside, this was neither a hasty purchase nor anything he kept on hand. This was no gift for a lover. It was a necklace fit for a duchess.
“Wade, where did these come from?”
“I sent for them. I ordered them brought down from London by courier,” he flashed a smile, “first class on the train.”
“How extravagant!”
He shrugged, as though it was no small feat. “You said you wanted baubles…”
Cassandra lifted the pearls from their box. Each little orb glimmered under the lamplight, warming in her hands. “I said I wouldn’t know what to do with them—and I don’t!”
“You wear them. Here, allow me.” He fastened the diamond-and-gold clasp at the back of her neck. Deft fingers brushed the sensitive flesh there, and Wade paused to admire her. “Magnificent, though they pale in comparison toyourluster.”
She felt the pearls’ weight upon her shoulders like a queen’s mantle, a valkyrie’s armor. She could scarcely draw breath. “They’re heavy.”
“You’ll grow accustomed to them, for I intend to spoil you with parures and pendants, brooches and bobs. I do, however, hope that these pearls remain precious in your heart.”
“Of course! They are a gift from you.” She would treasure them always.
“They are more than a token of my love. They’re a promise, Cassandra. You shall always be provided for. Even if something should happen to me, you’ll want for nothing.”
She touched her breast, where the necklace rested over her swelling heart. It was an extravagant and altogether unnecessary present, but she was grateful for the sentiment behind it. Cassandra bubbled over with love for the dear, dear man who’d given her this gift.
“Thank you,” she said, yet the words felt inadequate.
Tonight was a special night—an evening for love, for giving, forsharing.She owned nothing of value, but had finished his handkerchief. It lay folded carefully in the top drawer of her bedside table, waiting for the right moment.
Would there ever be a more perfect time to return Wade’s generosity?
“I have something for you, as well,” she told him, “though I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after dinner.”
“You’ve something for me?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.
She doubted His Grace made the top of anyone’s gift-giving list. He may not have received a present—one given freely, with no ulterior motive—since his boyhood days. Or, perhaps, not even then…
Her heart ached for the lonely child she never knew. Cassandra vowed to spend the rest of her life showing this man just how much he meant to her.
She nodded. “Can you be patient, or would you rather I ran upstairs now?”
A smile played at his lips as Wade led her through the open doorway. “I can be patient, madam.”
Cassandra flushed at the warmth of his words. Her mind wandered down a wanton path, for Wade had shown the patience of a saint these past weeks, yet she had been waiting foryears.Cassandra was not sure she could endure another night without claiming him, body and soul.
“Supper first,” she said, leaving the rest to his imagination.
The blue dining room—the most spectacular room in all of Pender Abbey—glittered in the low light of the twin chandeliers hanging overhead. The long dining table had been draped with white cloth and decorated in a profusion of flowers. Roses overflowed fat silver bowls and proudly crowned tall Chinese urns, reminding her of the gardens at Caswell, where she and Wade had first chatted among the rosebushes.
Candelabra flickered at the center of the table and also at the sideboard, where two more liveried footmen flanked the cloche-topped serving dishes. One young man stepped forward to ease a chair back for Cassandra. Tradition decreed that she be placed at the foot of the table—it was, after all, where the lady of the house should be seated—yet Wade insisted that Cassandra sit at his side.
What a relief to know she always had a seat athistable.
She settled her skirts and allowed the footman to push the chair in. Tremaine poured the wine while the footmen served plates of mackerel in a gooseberry sauce. Cassandra never believed that she’d grow sick of beefsteak, but she had, for Wade had kept her stuffed with it during her menses. The nutrient-rich foods had likely aided in her speedy recovery.
Cassandra felt so verywell—better than she had in ages.
***
She looked radiant. She looked youthful, and beautiful, and utterly at home presiding over his table. His grandmother’s pearls leant her the air of a duchess, though Wade felt certain Cassandra had been born with the courage and compassion necessary to carry the role.
