He could not dazzle Cassandra Fisk so easily. She was not exactly rich and titled, but her brother was. She had likely learned of Sebastian through Septon. Perhaps she had become curious about him after some amusing anecdote. The curiosity had grown into atendre. Word of his injury and fear of his death had caused her to rush to his side…
He sighed. Sometime soon, he would worm the story out of her. He could imagine them naked in bed, her head resting on his chest as she shyly admitted the origins of her fascination.
He rang for his breakfast tray, still smiling. There would be time later to fulfill those fantasies. For now? She was pretending she had never met him. He blamed Julian for this. The fellow had been pouring poison in her ears, promising her a Season that would end with her tied to someone safe and boring, honourable but unexceptional.
She deserved better. Excitement. Adventure. Romance. She would be a duchess. His duchess. It might require a bit of persuading to return her to the love-struck girl she’d been last year. But once she realized the change her devotion had made in him, the flame in her would be rekindled. He would light it off the fire in his own heart, which had grown in those months apart from the sparks of lust she’d seen to the steady glow of love.
She would laugh when she learned how sentimental he’d become. It made him laugh, as well. His heart was lighter than it had been in ages. There had been so much grief in his life, and so many dashed hopes and disappointments. His father had been a rock. His grandmother, an anchor. Without them, he had drifted, lost and alone.
But Cassie’s arrival at his bedside had changed all that. She had given him her love. Now he would return it, a hundredfold.
At least, he would once a few small difficulties had been cleared away.
The butler arrived with his eggs and Sebastian reached for the napkin. ‘Barnes,’ he said with a magnanimous smile. ‘Get me the morning papers, the invitations from the post and my appointment book.’
The butler gave him a baffled look. ‘You want the news, and the mail? With breakfast?’
Sebastian sighed. ‘Do I need to repeat the request? I must see the scandal sheets, immediately.’
‘You are not usually interested in such things, Your Grace.’
‘That was the old me, Barnes. Today, I am very interested in what thetonis up to. And who would I talk to about getting some vouchers for Almack’s? Or do I have them already? Dammit man, search the study. I am sure I have some unanswered mail there. Bring it immediately.’
‘You mean to answer your mail, Your Grace?’ Barnes blinked.
‘I cannot simply arrive at gatherings with no notice,’ he said. ‘At least, not anymore. This Season, I must have a plan.’
‘Very well, Your Grace,’ the butler said with a slight shake of his head, as if to say he would obey but doubted that the change would be permanent. Then, he stepped out of the room and closed the door.
By the time he had finished his coffee, Barnes had reappeared with a basket of unanswered invitations,The Post,The ChronicalandThe Timesand several back issues found in the kitchen firebox. On the top of the stack was the calendar he’d been using to record important appointments.
At least, he should have done. There hadn’t been an entry since Christmas. But there was no time like the present to reform his social habits, which were lagging behind the other reforms to his character. So he opened it to the current month and began sorting his mail by date.
After an hour of perusal, cross-referencing newspaper articles with announcements and sorting things by date, he had a fairidea of the gatherings that might invite Septon and his sister and had found the corresponding invitations in his basket.
He did not usually attend the sorts of events where young ladies were found, though he was always invited to them. Hostesses might disapprove of him in private, but he was an unmarried peer and a prized catch on any guest list. While they might not want him marrying their daughter, he was bound to marry someone eventually and they did not want to miss his fall when it occurred.
There was no better place to be seen than Almack’s. After much searching, Barnes discovered his voucher being used as a bookmark in a volume of French poetry. He had two days to prepare for the weekly ball, more than enough time to trim his hair, polish the buckles on his knee breeches and practice the apology that he had been planning since she’d run away.
The place was deadly and he had not been there in ages. But, as he had told Barnes, this year would be different. Cassie was sure to be there. So would he. Last night, she had denied him. But in the days to come, she would see him again and again. Some night, he would get her away from her chaperones so she could admit her feelings for him. He would offer his heart and his body. Or his body and his heart, if she were amenable and he could manage to seduce her uninterrupted. Self-denial was not his strong point. And was it really necessary, if the ceremony followed in short order?
The valet appeared, glanced at the scattered papers on the bed and desk, then went back to the job of preparing his shave.
Another doubter.
Sebastian smiled at him, his good mood undiminished. This was the first day of his new life. With time and the love of Cassandra Fisk, the world would see the man he could become.
It was Wednesday night, and Bessie was putting the finishing touches on Cassie’s hair, securing the bun with pearl-headed pins and curling the front and sides so they would frame her face as she danced. To finish, she anchored a pearl diadem atop her head that would match the pearl necklace Cassie already wore. Her gown was heavily embroidered white muslin, accented with spangles and even more pearls.
Cassie stood and stared at herself in the mirror. So much white. White was the height of fashion this year. It made her feel cool and untouchable, like a column in a Greek temple. If she was still longing for a flash of colour? It proved how out of step she was with the ladies of London.
Tonight, of all nights, she did not want to bring notice to herself for the wrong reasons. She would be mixing with a crowd even more select than the one that had attended her ball. Stories of Almack’s had reached her, even when she’d lived in the country, chiefly that it would be impossible for a girl like herself to gain admittance. The patronesses accepted only the most suitable men for the most high-born ladies. Their lists would never include a country miss with no wealth or pedigree.
But it seemed, when one was the sister of a duke, no matter how shadowed one’s past might be, all doors opened. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. She was rather long in the tooth for a place like Almack’s. She had been practically on the shelf when she’d lived in Natters Mill, while many of the girls she would meet tonight were six years younger and already in their second Season.
Of course, they were not the sisters of a duke. Especially not one as generous as Julian was. He had assured her that there was nothing to fear. He wanted her to enjoy herself. He would not force her into a union for the sake of political or financial connection. The choice of whom to marry, or whether to marry at all, would be hers.
Assuming she chose well, of course. She glanced to her journal, with the lilac spear pressed between the pages. No one had stepped forward to announce themselves as the giver, which left her with her first, unproved suspicion. What an unwise choice that would be if it were true.
