“No,” Cassian replied, “but does it matter? Half of London has one opinion about us, and the other has the opposite. It does not matter who is here. Just keep your head up and smile.”
“Your Graces,” a lady of elderly years curtsied. Her face was lined by age, and she wore her widow’s weeds in style, her silvery hair tucked under a turban. “I am so pleased to see you and your lovely wife. Welcome to my humble abode.”
This must be Lord Rainsville’s mother.
“Thank you, Lady Hortense.” Cassian’s smile was pure charm. “Has it really been a year since Edgar passed? You have not aged a day.”
Pale pink spots colored the lady’s cheeks. “Eleven months and twenty-eight days, Your Grace.”
“Ah,” Cassian nodded soberly, “then I shall refrain from sending you the list of eligible bachelors looking for a sweet lady as yourself three days hence.”
Aghast, Cecilia gasped, “Cassian!”
The dowager pressed her hand to her chest while her color brightened. Cecilia was not sure if the lady was flattered or having a coronary.
“I had forgotten how easily young fellows like you can charm an old bird like me.” Lady Hortense fanned Cassian off. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Your Grace. Your mother is surely smiling on you from heaven.”
She knew his mother?
“Thank you for having us,” Cecilia decided to reel the conversation back into familiar territory. “You have a lovely home. Quite modern, I must say.”
“That is the work of my lovely daughter-in-law,” she smiled at a lady across the room, clad in demure shades of rose. “Her fatheris a Draughtsman Engineer who studied in America for a while. He fitted pipes in such a curious way that our maids need not lug water upstairs anymore.”
“I’m impressed,” Cassian said as the Earl of Rainsville and a lady on his arm strolled over to meet them. The summer blue gown the lady wore craftily covered her heavily burgeoned belly.
“Your Graces,” the man bowed, and the lady curtsied as much as she could. “Welcome to my modest home. I see you have met my mother.”
“We have,” Cecilia smiled.
“I think I may employ your father to refit one of my homes, my lady,” Cassian began, “Your dear mama-in-law has already convinced me he is the best in the country.”
Lady Rainsville went red, and Cecilia was getting a firsthand account of how easily Cassian charmed his conquests. The man had the ability to turn on the charm as easily as other people breathed, and while it worried her a little, she knew he had more composure and sense not to devolve into his old ways.
Are you sure about that?
The ugly question lingered in the back of her head as they meandered through the room, meeting married pairs, a few unattached lords and ladies, plus the local reverend and his wife.
“You know, dinner is in fifteen minutes,” Lady Rainsville said as they crossed paths together. “Would you like to sit with us ladies in a parlor?”
“I think—” Cecilia paused as a waiter passed with champagne on a tray, and Cassian took two. She felt startled at how bare Cassian’s hands were and belatedly remembered she’d taken a pair of gloves from Andrews on the way. “—I need to speak with my husband for a moment.”
Looking around, she spotted large double doors that led to a wide balcony and steered Cassian to it. Thankfully, he did not resist, and as they crossed the threshold, the cool night air wrapped around them. Cecilia pulled the gloves from her reticule.
“Please put these on,” she whispered urgently.
“No.” Cassian sipped his champagne.
She frowned, confused. “Why not? It is proper protocol for a gentleman—” she wrinkled her nose, “—haven’t you noticed the others present? No gentleman goes around with bare hands.”
“Ido,” he moved to the door, but she stopped him.
“Cassian, you cannot honestly insist on being so gauche on every occasion,” she reprimanded him. “Put them on.”
His eyes narrowed. “Cecilia, I said, no. Now, let us rejoin the party.”
This time, she physically stepped in front of him, “Cassian. You are making me look bad. It is inappropriate.”
Instead of sidestepping her, he backed her up against the wall, his tone dropping. “I do not wear thosedamnedthings, Cecilia, because the last time I wore them, I had not known my mother was dying. I lost the opportunity to touch her skin, Cecilia. To feel her heartbeat. To be close to her. So no, I have never andwillnever wear them again.”
