The boats had stilled. Guests stood frozen along the shore. Servants hovered uncertainly. The Dowager Duchess stared as though Cassandra had personally insulted her. Sylvia stood near George’s abandoned boat, her expression carefully arranged into concern, but there was no denying the light smirk on her lips.
Cassandra felt the heat rush to her face. Water dripped steadily from her skirts, pooling at her feet, and her hair hung loose and damp, her gloves ruined, her bodice clinging in a way that was entirely improper.
She did not look at George again. She could not bear to see his expression now, whatever it might be. Instead, she gathered herskirts with trembling hands and walked away as quickly as she could manage without running.
By the time she reached the house, her chest ached with the effort of holding herself together. Only once she reached the privacy of her room did she allow herself to stop. She pressed her back against the door, breathing hard.
Her hands were still shaking, not from the cold but from the memory of his voice, and the way he had acted without thinking, without pause, as though pulling her from the water had been the most natural thing in the world. She closed her eyes.
This was not part of the plan, and for the first time, she was no longer certain she wanted it to be.
Chapter Fourteen
George could not stop thinking about what had happened.
The house had resumed its careful rhythm after the incident at the lake, but he heard none of it. Every attempt at conversation with him failed, and each time he saw his grandmother, she was glaring at him.
The girl had been reckless, she had said, and he could not argue with her. Cassandra could have drowned, and that realization struck him again and again, sharp as the cold water must have been. She had fallen because she did not think, because she never seemed to think when defiance was involved.
His jaw tightened. Ruining her reputation was one thing, but that lake…
He could still feel the weight of her in his arms, the momentary terror before he reached her, and the way she had clung to himwithout hesitation. It was too much, and he could not leave it all unanswered.
George turned abruptly and left the room.
“George,” his grandmother said firmly to him in the hallway, causing him to turn around. “I do hope that you are not going where I think you are going.”
“To ensure that Lady Cassandra is well? That is the proper thing to do.”
“It is anything but, and I shall thank you not to indulge her in her antics.”
“Yes, I know, you think it reckless.”
“Think? George, what else could it be described as? If you ask me, I would say that she is doing this deliberately, so that she does not need to marry you. If not for your position, I would have been certain of it, but no lady of sound mind would refuse you.”
“At least you think that she is of sound mind,” he muttered. “Now, if you do not mind–”
“I mean it, George. It is not too late to reconsider. Your time with Lady Sylvia today was ruined, and I am beginning to wonder if that girl is jealous of the fact that Lady Sylvia is so undeniably better for you.”
“Grandmother, I do not have time for this. I understand that you are not pleased, but I must think first and foremost about my guests, and regardless of what you think of Lady Cassandra, that is what she is.”
He left her standing there, and went to Lady Cassandra’s room. He did not bother announcing himself when he reached her door. He knocked once, sharply, then opened it before the sound had fully settled.
“Lady Cassandra–”
He stopped. Cassandra stood near the dressing table, her hair loose and still damp, her gown half-fastened. She wore only her shift and stays, a shawl pulled hastily around her shoulders, clearly interrupted mid-change.
It was nothing improper, nor scandalous, and yet George lost his train of thought entirely.
She looked up, startled, color rising instantly to her cheeks.
“Your Grace,” she said. “You cannot simply–”
He closed the door behind him, more firmly than necessary.
“I apologize,” he said automatically, though his eyes betrayed him.
He forced himself to look away, to focus on the wall, the chair, anything but the way the lamplight caught her hair. Silence fell as she put a final layer of her gown on.
