“I think I should enjoy this evening after all,” Stillworth said, walking toward the threesome.
Lakehurst laughed.
* * *
This is a mistake.I should have dissuaded the Duchess,Cassandra inwardly moaned. She looked about the opulent parlor with its real gold inlays on columns, frames, cornices, and mantle pieces and the glittering crystal chandeliers and candle branches. Everything sparkled, coruscating with rainbow prism light from blazing candlesticks. She didn’t know the last time she had been anywhere so bright it nearly made her eyes hurt. She closed her eyes against the glittering brightness of the chandelier, but still saw sparkles through her closed eyelids. She looked down, then opened her eyes again.
Harrison Farrow and Edmund Tidemark stood on either side of her. Unwanted bodyguards. What were they guarding her from? She wondered if Mr. Farrow would ever leave her side. Since he’d arrived at the Darkford house at midday, he’d been an obsequious leech—if he ever could be convinced to leave her side ’twould be a miracle. Though perhaps it would be interesting to see what the Duchess thought of Mr. Farrow.
Not that he was a bad person, she reasoned. In his mid-thirties, he was of medium height and build, with the nascent evidence of encroaching corpulence in his later years wrapped about his person. His rather round face appeared pleasant enough beneath medium brown hair that receded to the crown of his head. In dress, he preferred dandy attire with high stocks, bright waistcoats, and yellow pantaloons. This evening, paired with his yellow pantaloons, he wore a cerulean blue jacket over a striped waistcoat of blue, red, and gold.
She looked across the room to where Viscount Lakehurst stood laughing at something Mr. Stillworth said when the Duchess entered. She hoped he’d come back to her side and lead Mr. Farrow away as he had Vanessa, though she acknowledged that had likely not been his intent. She now believed she would always safe next to him, even if she’d flown up into the boughs in anger and fear at the knowledge he was the author of the book. In a small part of herself, she knew she’d never feared him, despite his large size. Guiltily, she admitted to herself, she rather liked his size.
She decided to cross to the Duchess’s side.
“Where are you going?” her uncle asked.
She looked at him and frowned. “To pay my respects to the Duchess, of course,” she said.
“Oh, yes. Rightly so. I shall accompany you. Harrison, come along to meet our hostess,” Edmund said, to Cassandra’s dismay. They followed behind her as she crossed the room to the Duchess. She spared a curious glance to the gentleman who escorted the Duchess and Gwinnie. He had bright blue eyes in a well-tanned face beneath wavy blond hair. He smiled congenially back at her.
Gwinnie dropped his arm to embrace Cassandra gleefully. “You are looking wonderful, isn’t she, Grandmother?” Gwinnie enthused. She tucked her arm into Cassandra’s. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“And I you,” Cassandra said, overwhelmed by Gwinnie’s enthusiasm.
“Mr. Tidemark,” said the Duchess. “I’m glad to see you here this evening.”
“Thank you for inviting us and including my wife’s younger brother, Harrison Farrow.”
“At your service,” Mr. Farrow said, bowing low over the Duchess’s hand.
“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Farrow. You must tell me all about yourself. However, first, may I make you known to Mr. Martin, who has been a particular friend to the family?”
The gentlemen all perfunctorily bowed to one another as Mr. Stillworth came up.
“Lady Darkford, might I prevail upon you…”
Cassandra recognized he, too, wished for formal introductions. “My Lady Malmsby, this is Mr. Raymond Stillworth, my late husband’s cousin and business partner in his tea ventures. Lady Guinevere, Mr. Martin, please meet Mr. Stillworth,” she said, finishing the round of introductions and witnessing the round of courtesies that followed.
Tiresome, she thought, but she smiled at all. She felt dismayed that Mr. Stillworth appeared to desire further acquaintance with Gwinnie. She didn’t blame him, though she’d hoped he would help keep Mr. Farrow at bay.
She turned to leave the group to converse. Mr. Farrow turned to follow her.
“Mr. Farrow!” she heard the Duchess say. “Don’t leave, I wish to become better acquainted,” said the Duchess.
Cassandra glanced back to the Duchess.
“You, too, Mr. Tidemark, stay. We can have a comfortable coze before dinner,” the Duchess said, indicating with a sweep of her hand a sofa and chair grouping where they could sit.
Cassandra knew neither Mr. Farrow nor Edmund could refuse her request. She continued to where her brother and his fiancée sat with Mrs. Hallowell.
“I was considering how to pull the leeches from you,” her preternaturally calm brother whispered. “Are they always intent on staying by your side?”
She laughed. “Yes, but Edmund’s attachment is because of Mr. Farrow. For all Edmund is sincerely attached to his wife, he does not trust Mr. Farrow. I believe he fears if he doesn’t stay close by, Mr. Farrow will attempt something ungentlemanly toward me. But neither does he rescue me from Mr. Farrow. I’m not sure I understand the difference for Edmund—allowing the verbal liberties Mr. Farrow takes while safeguarding against the physical liberties—but so it is.”
“Verbal liberties?” Lord Lakehurst asked, joining them.
“Yes, I would like to know more about those, too,” her brother said, frowning as he crossed his arms across his chest.
