She took a sip of her tea, which had gone cold, and refilled the cup from the pot.
‘You are avoiding the question,’ Portia said, disappointed.
‘Yes, I am,’ Cassie said. ‘Because I do not know how to answer. I like him.’ She took another sip and added a lump of sugar. ‘But that is all.’
‘You do not know him very well,’ Portia said, pushing her cup towards the pot.
Cassie refilled it, as well. ‘Three dances. And during them, I learned far more about him than he learned about me. Yet, he seems to like me very well.’
‘It would be a good match,’ Portia said thoughtfully.
‘For him as well, I think,’ Cassie said. ‘He wishes to know Septon and to be part of his family.’
Portia sighed. ‘I had hoped that there might be more.’
Cassie did not like being a disappointment, so she said, ‘There still might be. It is too early to tell.’
Portia seemed encouraged by this and whispered. ‘Perhaps, after this evening, you will like him better. You have not seen the surprise, as yet.’
‘What might that be?’
‘When he returns from bowling, he will offer to show you the gardens,’ Portia said her eyes lighting with mischief.
‘And you want me to go with him, unchaperoned?’ Cassie responded. This was a surprise.
‘There is a hedge maze,’ she replied. ‘It is very pretty at dusk.’
‘Very dark, I suspect,’ said Cassie, sipping her tea.
‘There are torches. And it is not so large that you will be lost for long,’ Portia said, as if she spoke from experience.
‘Are you suggesting that I allow Mr Rutland to take liberties?’
‘Not if you do not wish him to,’ Portia replied. ‘But a single kiss will do no harm, if you wish for one.’
Cassie was not sure that was true. The kiss she’d gotten from Westbridge had caused no end of trouble, so far. But she had enjoyed it. Perhaps, when the moment came, she might feel differently about Mr Rutland.
Andrew, she reminded herself.
‘You can say no, if you wish,’ Portia said, sensing her lack of enthusiasm.
‘I can,’ Cassie said. ‘I think I will wait until the moment arrives to make my decision.’ But from the relief she felt at the thought of refusing, things did not look promising for Andrew.
A short while later, the gentlemen arrived, bringing the cakes with them. And after a slice of sponge with raspberry jam, Andrew offered to show her the gardens.
When Cassie looked to Portia for support, she replied, ‘We will follow in a little bit. I think I would like another piece of cake.’
It was probably just as well. She would need to make a decision about Andrew Rutland sooner or later. Tonight was as good a time as any. So when he rose, she took his hand and let him lead her out of the box and down a crushed stone path towards the maze.
‘It is a lovely night,’ Andrew said.
Cassie was tempted to tell him that they had covered this conversational ground before. Instead, she forced herself to do what was expected of her and replied, ‘Yes. Lovely.’
‘The gardens are lovely as well,’ he added. ‘Not so lovely as the ones on my father’s estate. Those are much larger. But not open to the public, of course.’
‘Of course not,’ she said. Did he covet those grounds, she wondered? He was not the heir to them. They would not come to him, unless both his father and older brother died. Nor had he done anything to create or care for them.
It was strange to brag about a thing that one was adjacent to but had no part in. Unless one had no real accomplishments of one’s own, other than a family name and prospects of success if one married well.
