“They can manage without me for a moment, surely?”
“A moment, yes, but you have not been away for a mere moment.”
He straightened immediately.
“Of course,” he accepted, bowing to Cassandra. “Enjoy the afternoon.”
Then he turned and returned to the shooting line without another word.
Cassandra watched him go, aware of the Dowager’s scrutiny, of Sylvia’s distant glare, of the quiet satisfaction blooming where irritation had been. She had made him laugh, and for a moment, that felt like a small victory worth keeping.
“He is a good man,” the Dowager said firmly.
“Indeed.”
“And a good man deserves the very best wife, does he not?”
“I– yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. At least you know your place in that respect. Do try to act accordingly, Lady Cassandra. I would hate to see such a good man make such a terrible mistake, would you not?”
But she did not wait for a response. Her opinion was made known, and Cassandra knew there was no changing it. She was not good enough, and she never would be.
The activity for that day was a trip across the river, and the boats were being filled one by one.
“Lady Cassandra,” George said with a smile, “would you join me in our boat?”
She nodded and started toward him, but the Dowager stepped in.
“Oh dear,” she said, glancing toward another group, “could you help me ask Philippa to join us for a moment?”
“A servant could do that,” George began, but Cassandra inclined her head and went.
By the time she returned, the first boat had pushed off. Cassandra’s heart sank as she saw Sylvia seated beside George, chatting comfortably as if nothing had changed.
“Lady Cassandra,” the Dowager said briskly, “you may take the next boat.”
Cassandra did not protest; protesting never helped. She took her seat opposite Anthea, her husband, and their child, who immediately began trailing her fingers through the water with glee.
Cassandra had to look away from George’s boat.
“You are unhappy about this,” Anthea said lightly.
“I am not.”
“If you would like, I could lean a little too far to one side.”
“What do you mean?”
“The boats are narrow,” Anthea said. “A well-timed shift might send His Grace into the lake, along with the lady that cannot seem to leave him be.”
On another day, Cassandra might have laughed, encouraged it even, but not that day. She knew completely and utterly that the Shertons did not particularly want her around, with the exception of Philippa. The Dowager’s opinions weighed heavily, and George could do little but adhere to propriety. She did not want the match herself, and there was a perfectly good lady who did. Cassandra exhaled.
“What is the point of this?”
“Of the boating?” Anthea asked.
“Of any of it,” Cassandra replied. “The party, my sabotage, Lady Sylvia’s attempts to steal him. It all amounts to nothing.”
