Cassie’s hand shook as she raised her glass and drained the last of her wine. This was not a failure, she told herself. Only a delay. Nothing bad had happened, as of yet. She still had time to work this out. She would take the night to think it out.
Tomorrow, she would explain everything.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Sebastian was taking his usual morning coffee at White’s, and feeling exceptionally pleased with himself. Last night’s session in the House of Lords had been productive. There had been very little wrangling on several important votes and all had gone as he’d hoped.
It had been the finish of a wonderful day.
Not a perfect one. He had gone home to sleep alone. But his dreams had been of Cassie, and what it might be like to meet her over the dinner table, after a night of politics. In his sleep, he’d offered her a kiss on the cheek, basked in her smiles, as she took her seat beside him. She had been wearing a white gown, the amber pin glittering on her left breast, and staring at him with a devoted smile. After a pudding of apricots and cream, he had suggested that they retire, and she’d followed him up the stairs to his room.
And then, the dream had ended, just when it should have been getting interesting. Strangely, he had not minded. While there was a lot to be said for lurid, erotic fantasies, the women in them never stayed to breakfast. They might declare him a god in the bedroom, but evaporated like smoke before making him feel whole, or real or good.
The idea that he could have both a lover and a friend was a novelty. He had known from the first moment he’d seen her that he had wanted Cassie to share his bed. When he’d recognizedher love, it seemed only natural that they should marry. But only lately had they begun to talk, and he wanted more of it. Their chats were rarely private and far too short.
If they could have a proper courtship, innocent conversation would be encouraged. But they could only have that with Septon’s permission. Technically, his sister was of age and could make her own decisions. But that did not mean that Julian could not make the way forward difficult. If he withdrew his financial support, she might have to leave London. Or, he could do as Sebastian had done to Blake and encourage her to travel somewhere that he would never think of looking for her.
There was also the fact that Cassie loved her brother and would not want to cross him by choosing a husband he did not like. This was probably the reason she was so reticent to admit how they’d met. But if she accepted him, the next time he offered, he did not want her to have to choose between the two of them. He had to negotiate a truce with Septon.
Since Julian had just entered the room and was coming towards him, now might be a good time to practice his diplomacy. He smiled and gestured to the chair beside him. ‘Good morning, Septon.’
His friend signalled a waiter to bring his tea and took his usual seat. Then, he gave Sebastian a curious look. ‘You are in an exceptionally good mood this morning.’
‘Indeed,’ he said, still smiling. ‘I slept well.’
‘With whom?’ Julian said with a sly smile.
‘Alone,’ he replied, setting his coffee aside.
Now Julian stared in amazement. ‘That was not what I was expecting to hear.’
‘People change,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You are not the man you were a year ago.’
‘Because I married,’ Julian agreed.
‘So you have not been there to notice my absence at any of our old haunts,’ Sebastian said.
Julian laughed. ‘I cannot believe it.’ It was an annoying reaction, but not unexpected.
Sebastian kept his expression and tone neutral, as if it did not matter to him. ‘It is harder to prove a negative than a positive. When I go to bed alone, taking someone to witness and report the truth rather defeats the point.’
Septon sipped his tea. ‘I suppose that is true.’
‘And is marriage still everything you hoped for?’ Sebastian prompted. ‘Because, I was thinking I might…’
Before he could finish this, a shadow fell across the two of them and he looked up to see Gerald Balard standing nervously in front of them. As usual, Balard was perfectly pressed and band box fresh.
Sebastian reached for his coffee again and pretended that his grimace was due to the bitterness of the beans and not the overwhelming loathing he felt for the man.
Without waiting for an invitation, Balard took the third chair in their little group and glanced from one of them to the other. Then, he signalled the waiter and asked for a cup of tea.
It was far from an unusual request. But it was the same beverage that Septon was drinking. The fact seemed significant.
He looked hopefully in Julian’s direction.
Julian drank again and looked over his cup at the interloper. ‘Good morning, Balard.’
‘Good morning, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed sharing your box at the theatre the other night.’
