“He’s afraid he’ll be like his father,” Cassie says, speaking straight to my heart. “He’s afraid that if he has a human lover, his love won’t be enough. Which is why I worry for him almostas much as he frets over me. I fear he’ll be too preoccupied with making someone else happy that he’ll sacrifice his career and all the things that make him who he is. Two people shouldn’t need to be so entwined.”
I study her face, her wary expression. “Are you telling me this to warn me away from him?”
She shakes her head. “I’m asking how much you care about him. It’s one thing if you love him. It’s another if he’s just a fleeting fancy.”
I recoil at the thought of William being nothing more than afleeting fancy, as she put it. Yet the prospect of loving him sends my heart skittering. Fluttering. A renewed sense of that giddy feeling.
It doesn’t scare me this time.
It doesn’t remind me of how things went with Dennis Feverforth.
Because this feeling is tethered to more than just fickle words and illusions.
It’s tethered to the man who assured me my words are beautiful.
To the man who slept in a chair beside my bed the night I drank myself into stupidity.
To the man who shared his vulnerable past with me.
Who jested with me, flirted with me, and confessed his feelings in the pages of our playful book.
I rise to my feet, beautiful and terrifying words on my tongue. “I love him enough that I won’t let your fears for him come to fruition. I won’t let him lose himself in me. But…I won’t push him away either.”
Her lips curl into a smile. “You’re going to forgive him?”
I search for the remnants of anger I felt for him. They’re there, but they’re nothing but ashes compared to the blaze in my heart. “I already have.”
She rises with the aid of her cane and takes my fingers in her free hand. “You should tell him to his face.”
My chest lifts. It’s still full of clouds, but I’m ready to disperse them. Together. With William. I’m still scared, but it’s not enough to stop me. My legs tremble with my sudden burst of eagerness to get back to him.
Cassie gives me a knowing grin. “Let’s get…” She blinks. Once. Twice. Her expression slips. Her already pale complexion goes a shade lighter. Then, with a flutter of her lashes, she slips to the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EDWINA
I’m going to miss the gala.
Night falls outside the window of the bedroom where Cassie rests. She’s been sleeping for hours now, and I can’t bring myself to leave her, despite her insistence that she was fine before she retired to her bed.
I understand William’s protectiveness over her even more now. It was terrifying to watch as Cassie’s slender body went limp. Luckily, I eased her fall and she wasn’t injured. She even regained consciousness quickly and gave me the address to the house where she’s staying. With my aid, we hailed a hansom cab, and I handed her into the care of her friends. They echoed Cassie’s assurances that this wasn’t the most unusual thing for her and that she’d be better after some rest.
I believe them, but I can’t leave her. How could I? William would be furious if he knew I left her while she was still recovering. I’m already half convinced he’ll rage at me for agreeing to keep her fainting spell a secret until she can tell himherself. It’s a vow I’m coming very close to breaking, though I understand Cassie’s reasoning. She doesn’t want him to miss the gala either and refused to lie down until I agreed not to send word to him.
Though I never promised I’d leave her myself.
The room, at least, is comfortable for Cassie. It’s a large guest suite in a grand manor at the edge of town, just a ten-minute coach ride from the café we dined at. Her friends have come in to check on her periodically and have laid out a tray of tea, cookies, and Cassie’s next dose of medicines. She truly does seem to be in the best of care. Her friends dote on her as deeply as William does.
Just in a far less overbearing manner.
When Cassie finally wakes, I rush to her side.
“What are you still doing here?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.
I aid her into a seated position. “I had to ensure you were well when you awoke.”
She reaches around me for one of her remedies, waving me away when I offer my help. “You really didn’t have to,” she says as she administers several drops of a tincture into her teacup. “I told you I’d be fine after a couple of hours of rest. It was just a dizzy spell. It happens.”
