Her knees went out from under her as the shock and the drunkenness made her head spin even more. Ophelia Hawthorne’s eyes went alight with sadistic delight, and shesnapped her fan out to hide her smirk. The second lady, Henrietta Ashbrook, openly gaped at the two. Soon their shock turned to palpable excitement, and Cecilia felt the weight of her ruination crashing down.
Darkness swept over her in waves, her body flashing cold.
Cassian grabbed at her to stop her from falling, but it mattered not. The damage was already done. If he pitched her over the balustrade and into the champagne fountain below, she could not be any less broken.
Her vision grew blurry.
“Cecilia,” Gabriel stepped forward. “What is going on here?”
“I-I—” she felt faint.
“The good lady is drunk,” Cassian said calmly. “Can’t you see that?”
Gabriel straightened, his gaze imperious. “And she so happened to be kissing you to grow sober, is it? What were you doing with her at all?”
“I came here to have a quiet moment away from the hubbub downstairs,” Cassian answered. “And she flew out of the doors.”
Cecilia shook her head and grabbed at her temple as the room spun. “Gabriel, I sent a note for you to come and see me. Why—why weren’t you there?” She pushed away from Cassian to totter to him. “I thought it was you. Not—not him.”
Gabriel stepped away from her. The cut was not subtle at all. “I had received no such note.”
“I am sure, I sent it to you,” she pulled away and pressed her hand to her chest. “Gabriel—”
“You should return to Duke Tressingham,my lady,” Gabriel said with a condescending smile. “It seems he is your new fiancé. I should have known with how seductive you’ve been for these past few weeks.”
“Weeks?” She blinked. “You have never seen me once in a month.”
“Matters not,” he said, stepping aside. “You may have the breeding, but I was sorely mistaken about your class.”
His words had all the effect of a punch to her face.
“Wait a moment, Whitmore,” Cassian interjected. “Is this how much of a bounder you are? To reject your fiancée when she is clearly ill?”
“Ill or not, you took advantage of her,” Gabriel replied pompously.
Cecilia pressed a hand to her temple as small black spots began to pepper her vision.
“I am not surprised,” Cassian snapped coldly. “You never had the intent to marry her, did you? You’re a social vulture, Whitmore, and everyone knows it. Well, perhaps everyone but poor Cecilia here.”
Turning to Cassian, she blinked the double vision away. “What—what do you mean?”
The argument had drawn more people, but they stood silent in the periphery.
“Your fiancé has no interest in you anymore because you do not carry the swing of the attention in the Season,” Cassian said frankly. “Whitmore is a social buzzard flying to the scene of the freshest kill because he craves attention like a plumed peacock. He is only keeping you on the emotional tenterhooks while he roams.
“Surely you have noticed it. Ophelia Hawthorne tonight, and last year, was it Letitia Corrington? Both of them were Diamonds after you. Do you not wonder why they have the loaf of his attention while he gives you the crumbs?”
Horrified gasps swept through the room while Gabriel looked apoplectic.
“It does not detract from the issue that you were kissing her!” Gabriel spat.
“I—” Cecilia swayed as her stomach felt swoopy and her heart hammered irrationally.
“The good lady is drunk, and this is a massive misunderstanding,” Cassian repeated calmly.
“Amassive misunderstandingthat ended with the two of you kissing,” Gabriel’s sneer was cutting. “I think it’s by design. You are a rake after all, and Cecilia’s been growing infinitely desperate these past few months.”
Cecilia felt her stomach falling to her feet. Blindly, she reached out, grabbing for anything she could hold onto. That thing was Cassian’s jacket. “I do not feel well.”
