But that would ignore the unfortunate truth: they had spent too many evenings steeped in debauchery for Septon to have any illusions about Sebastian’s character. He would never be an ideal match for a friend’s sister, no matter his rank or recent good behaviour. He had far too much past to forgive.
It hurt. But not overmuch. He had no intention of marrying Septon’s sister, so it hardly mattered. ‘Perhaps I shall pay my respects,’ he said with a neutral smile, setting aside his cup andrising to leave. Then, he could not help but add, ‘Tell the girl to save me a dance.’
‘Of course,’ Julian said with a nod, returning to his paper and probably hoping that Sebastian would forget the whole thing.
At seven thirty that evening, Cassie stood on the edge of the hired assembly hall in Argyle Street ready to make her debut. Portia had been planning the evening since the end of last year and had reserved the rooms and chosen the date so the ball would be the first major event of the Season and impossible to ignore.
Invitations were sent to the best and the brightest of London Society and some two hundred people had responded, eager to see and be seen supporting the Duke’s charity and gaining introduction to the elusive Miss Fisk.
Cassie had been in London for a year and a half now, but few people knew of the fact. While she had not exactly been in seclusion, they had decided between them that it would be better to put off the formal introduction to thetonuntil the following year, when the most eligible men had returned to London for Parliament’s new session.
It had worked for the best, since her poor brother had had no idea how to go out preparing her for a Season and would have been close to useless last year. His sudden marriage after the duel had solved so many problems. Portia had handled everything, from polishing the scandal off the Septon title to decorating the hall for this ball.
She had even helped with Cassie’s wardrobe, coming with her to pick fabrics and styles for the many new gowns. Then, she had sent to the country house for family jewellery that would best accent them. Tonight, Cassie wore amethysts that had been in the entail for generations, a quiet reminder to those whorecognized them that she was an acknowledged member of the family.
The evening was perfect. Really it was. Everything a girl could dream of.
If one was still a girl, perhaps. At six and twenty, Cassie stretched the definition of the word. And, if one had ever imagined a formal London Season, which Cassie had not.
It was not that she was ungrateful. Julian and Portia wanted what was best for her. They offered more than the Fisks, her loving mother and father, could ever provide. But she had long ago resigned herself to not having fine clothes or jewels, or the attention of wealthy and powerful suitors. She did not need any of these things to be happy.
She had not even needed to know her true family, although it was nice to have a brother, especially one who loved her, as Julian did. She had reconciled herself to having the simple life she’d had in the rectory with the Fisks.
She had never imagined a night such as this. The sconces and tables were festooned with heliotropes. The tables in the dining room were stacked with delicacies. The chandeliers sparkled, as did the wine glasses and the champagne in them.
The people would sparkle, as well. The guests would be titled gentlemen and their ladies, would be decked in silk and sheer muslin, their throats dripping with jewels. And all of them would be watching her. Judging her. Whispering behind their fans about her.
For a moment, she was overcome with panic and stared around her, looking for escape. But before she could run, her father and her mother were at her side, offering her hugs of assurance and congratulations.
As her mother leaned in to kiss her, she whispered, ‘You needn’t be frightened, dear. The Duke and Duchess have taken care of you so far. They will not abandon you now.’
‘But what if…’ She looked around to be sure no one could hear her. ‘What if I don’t want to get married?’
Her mother pulled away and looked back at her, surprised. ‘It is rather the point of a Season, Cassandra. When the Duke took you to London, we all assumed that he would find you a husband.’
‘I am aware of that,’ she whispered back. ‘But…’ She gave her father an apologetic smile. ‘At the time, no one ever asked me about it. Everyone just assumed. I assumed, as well. And now?’ She waved her hands at her surroundings. ‘Here we are.’
Her father patted her hand. ‘It is not as if you will be forced against your will to wed a man you do not like. But when you did not find a husband in the parish, we thought a wider pool of suitors might help you find someone you liked.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, hoping it would make him feel better. But she did not think he understood at all. She had gone from her father’s house, to the house in St John’s Wood. There, she had lived just as she wanted for eighteen months. It had been lovely, just as it was. She wanted freedom and independence. But she did not know if Julian would support her forever, should she refuse to marry.
‘I could be useful,’ she said, staring at the doorway of the room, where the first guests had started to arrive. ‘I could be a governess, or a nurse, perhaps.’
Her father gave her a sad smile. ‘That would have been a decent plan, had you continued to live as our daughter. But a Duke’s sister does not need employment.’
He meant that it would be an embarrassment to Julian, she supposed. The women in the families of great men were destined to marry other great men. They were not supposed to shun the honour and seek employment. Perhaps it would have been better, had he never found her.
Her mother gave her another kiss, then turned her and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door. ‘Go and meet your guests. And do not worry so. Everything will be fine.’
‘Your brother will help you to choose an honourable man,’ her father added. ‘Someone who will allow you to do the good works you wish to, but who will keep you in love and comfort.’
‘As you wish, Papa,’ she said, doing her best to smile and pretend that all was well. Perhaps she should speak to Julian or Portia about her concerns. They would probably remind her that a woman with a job was little better than a servant, at the beck and call of whoever employed her. But a job was something that one could walk away from, if it did not suit.
Marriage was another matter entirely. It was until death. It said so, right in the vows. Once she said the words, there would be no turning back. And never, in twenty-six years, had she met a man she wanted to give her forever to.
At least not to the sort that her father might approve of. It was probably a sign of a weak character that the only man she’d ever been interested in was a wastrel. She had attached far too much importance to a single kiss. It was a foolish act that had raised equally foolish fantasies.
If she was to meet the man now?
