Last night, he had found himself at Ben’s house for a night of drinking and playing billiards with minimal conversation necessary. Ben had not asked, and Cassian had not divulged, because, in truth, he did not know what to divulge.
The week—or was it longer?—of almost silence between him and Cecilia had now left him with fewer than seven days in her company before he left for good. Falling in love with his wife had not been in the original plan, and he felt that if he admitted thedeep secret slithering through his head and heart, it would only make it more real.
He had drunk his whisky and avoided Ben’s eyes; he did not want to meet those intelligent orbs that held an all too knowing expression.
That night, before he’d dropped into bed, Ben had shaken his head and muttered, “I’d hoped it had not come to this.”
Cassian had not asked what he’d meant then and had no intention of knowing now, even though Ben was hovering across the garden by a white gazebo.
“Cassian?”
Blinking back to the present, he found Cecilia’s eyes on him and, from the divot in her brows, had the distinct impression that she had been calling his name for a while.
“My apologies,” he said. “Woolgathering.”
Her smile was barely there. “We were wondering if you would like to get some refreshments with us.”
As he made to answer, a flash of gaudy gold caught his attention. Whitmore was approaching, accompanied by Lady Ophelia. With his wheat-colored hair immaculately coiffed and clad in a florid gold jacket, the fop looked undeservedly pompous.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Emma whispered to Cecilia quietly as she, too, noticed.
“Five days ago,” Cecilia answered—another stake thrusting into Cassian’s heart—before she slid an eye to her friend. “Not here.”
Coming to stand by her, Cassian made sure Whitmore did a double-take when his eyes landed on him. He was not entirely sure he did not look as furious as he felt.
Whitmore’s gaze hooked behind them, and Cassian did not have to turn to see two women come to Cecilia’s side, Lady Catherine and Lady Jane, two women Whitmore had once courted.
He frowned.What is going on here?
CHAPTER 25
He watched as Cecilia turned to Lady Catherine, “Is everything in place?”
“Yes,” Lady Catherine’s smile was diabolical as she fingered the pearls at her throat. “My maid is steeringherto us in a few.”
For once, it was Cassian who was stumped, and he cleared his throat, “Cecilia, would you care to enlighten me as to what is going on?”
Before she could say a word, Lady Horatia, the hostess, strolled to them, a streak of her grey hair a brand in her dark coif. Clad in rich indigo, the hostess stopped to curtsy to Cassian.
“I had hoped you would attend, Your Grace,” the lady smiled before turning to Cecilia. “And you as well, Your Grace. Ladies Emma, Catherine, and Jane, I am delighted to see you all.”
From the corner of his eye, Cassian spotted Whitmore edging closer as if he wanted to hear what was happening. Unable to let the man linger in the background when he wanted to be in the forefront, Cassian bellowed, “Eavesdropping, are we, Whitmore?”
Gabriel jolted, then turned, “Hardly, Fitzroy. I hadn’t even noticed you were here.” He then rubbernecked to the ladies and bowed his head, his eyes tracing down the line of them before he greeted them individually. “I was not aware you all were friends.”
“You’d be surprised how a single common factor can join women,” Lady Catherine smiled conspiratorially when Gabriel began to look smug. “We crossed paths at Temple of the Muses.”
“Ah, yes,” Lady Horatia nodded sagely. “The lovely pleasure of books. I’ve always said, a well-read lady is a well-prepared lady.”
“I could not agree more,” Cecilia smiled too.
“I do also adore how familiar the three of you are with each other,” Lady Horatia prattled on dotingly.
Cassian was not entirely sure why Lady Catherine was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and his confusion only grew tenfold when she replied, “I amso gladyou said that, because I have another familiar face present that we wished to introduce to His Grace today.”
At his skyrocketing brows, Cecilia shook her head, “Not you, sweetheart.”
“Him,” Jane offered saccharinely to Gabriel.
