He rolled his eyes at her theatrics and shot a glare at Amelia for spilling his secret.
“It is not that serious.”
“Is it not?” she started, fluttering her eyelashes at him in mockery. “Truly, Mr. Straton, your dedication todisciplineis an inspiration to us all.”
Benedict nearly choked on his wine while Cassian’s laughter rang out, clearly savoring his friend’s distress.
“Do not call me that.”
“Why?” she asked sweetly. “Is it improper?”
“It is incorrect.”
“And yet it seems to vex you,” she murmured.
Sebastian smiled behind his glass while Anastasia looked unbearably pleased with herself. It felt like betrayal, all his friends being completely smitten with Anastasia while he was left out.
And then Cassian, curse him, turned his charm in her direction. “Tell me, Miss Dawson,” he drawled, his voice carefully pitched to annoy Benedict. “If Benedict keeps such a list, perhaps you might consider making one of your own. Number one: marry a man devastatingly handsome and devastatingly rich. Luckily for you, I am both. Number two: ensure that he makes you laugh at all his jokes.”
Cassian paused dramatically as Anastasia threw her head back and laughed while Benedict rolled his eyes. He had heard him make this move on numerous women before, and he wondered why it always worked. It was ridiculous. It was undignified. It was—
“I will put a checkmark next to that then. And number three, well, I volunteer to help you draft the rest if you wish.”
Anastasia giggled again, and the sound made Benedict’s blood boil. Cassian looked absolutely pleased with himself, aware of the effect he had on him, and Benedict wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. He could tell they were deliberately trying to rile him up, and he hated that it was working.
Without thinking, Benedict extended his leg under the table and kicked Cassian hard, a clumsy and somewhat desperate act from someone who had just discovered he had lost the use of speech.
Cassian yelped, grabbing his shin. “Bloody hell, Benedict. That was my bad leg.”
Anastasia clapped a hand over her mouth. Amelia coughed delicately into her napkin, Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose, and the dowager looked positively delighted with the spectacle.
However, it did not take long for Anastasia’s laughter to fade. She seemed to notice Cassian wincing, and concern replaced her mirth.
“Your bad leg?” she echoed. “What happened? Are you all right?” Her hand hovered close to his arm, as if she wanted to express sympathy but did not know if she should get too close.
Cassian’s smile did not vanish, but it dulled slightly at the edges. He took a slow sip of his wine before answering, giving himself a moment to choose his words.
“A bullet,” he said at last, as though it were of no consequence. “The war left me with a souvenir. It healed poorly. Some days are better than others.” He rolled his shoulder as if to dismiss the subject entirely. “I am not dying, Miss Dawson. I am simply… inconvenienced.”
Anastasia’s brows knit with genuine concern. “That is not nothing.”
“No,” Cassian agreed, his tone lighter again. “But I have survived worse things than a stubborn leg. Besides, it gives me an excellent excuse to sit down more often, which is a pleasure I otherwise would not allow myself.”
Benedict sat in silence, his jaw tight as he wondered what the rest of the weekend might bring. He was not particularly interested in watching his friend eat out of Anastasia’s palm. And he particularly detested the fact that they were doing it on purpose, waiting to see his reaction.
Lupita, sensing opportunity, climbed onto Cassian’s lap as though he were her rightful throne.
Cassian leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other scratching behind the Pomeranian’s ear. “All dogs love me,” he declared, as the dog nosed his lap with unseemly devotion. He made sure he glanced at his friend, perhaps to see his reaction. “They have excellent instincts. Don’t you think so, Miss Dawson?”
Anastasia, laughing softly, patted the dog. “Well, if they do, then I must trust them. It seems you have passed their test.”
Cassian’s grin returned in full. “As I expected.”
He looked down at Lupita fondly.
“Ah, yes. I had a buddy just like this back at the military camp I was at. That little rascal was with me until I got back on my feet,” Cassian added.
“Perhaps they recognize you as one of their own,” Benedict muttered, but Anastasia asked him more about that dog,toointerested in what he had to say for his liking.
