Lucy blinked. “You say that as if I don’t already know it.” Then she turned her attention to the housekeeper. “We’ll meet you in the pantries in ten minutes, Mrs. Prism.”
Mrs. Prism nodded and left the room while Cass made her way over and plopped down on the sofa. She pulled a throw pillow onto her lap and hugged it tightly against her middle. “Who else will be coming to the house party?”
Lucy tapped her finger against her cheek. “I invited Lord Berkeley.”
“Lord Berkeley?”
“Yes, Berkeley.”
Lord Berkeley was one of Garrett’s old friends from school. He was a viscount who lived in the north and rarely came down to town. The friends had met him in Bath last summer where he’d unsuccessfully attempted to court Lucy. Apparently, Lucy had remained on good terms with the viscount.
“How did you manage to convince Lord Berkeley to come down for this?” Cass asked.
“I simply informed him that he owes me a favor after shamelessly pretending to write me beautiful letters last summer.”
Cass’s jaw dropped open. “You did not say that to him, Lucy!”
“I most certainly did. He agreed wholeheartedly and sent his acceptance immediately. And the best part is, he has never met Captain Swift, either.”
Cass pulled up the pillow to her chin. “Nothing you do should surprise me but it does.”
Lucy had wandered over to the far side of the room where she was inspecting some apples in a bowl. She turned back to Cass and called, “Oh, Patience.”
Cass didn’t move. She remained staring blindly into the crackling fireplace.
“Patience!” Lucy said more loudly, slapping her slipper against the marble floor.
This time Cass turned her head. “Yes.”
Lucy put both hands on her hips. “That was a drill. You must get used to responding to that name.”
“Oh, Lucy. What am I going to do? I cannot speak to Julian as if I don’t know him. What if I slip and say something only Cass would know?” Cass said, allowing the pillow to fall back into her lap.
Lucy turned over one of the apples and then stared at it as if its precise placement was of the utmost importance. “Hmm. I suggest you keep quiet if you think you might be tempted to do that.”
“What if Jane or Lord Berkeley mistakenly call me Lady Cassandra?”
“Pretend as if you didn’t hear them and give them a stern look.”
“What if Garrett or Owen or my parents arrive?” Cass asked.
“Garrett’s not going to arrive and why would your brother have any reason to come here? He rarely leaves London.”
“What if—? What if—” Cass glanced around as if searching for another reason to worry.
“What if your head falls off?” Lucy supplied. “Is that what you’re going to say? I swear, Cass, there’s no need to worry. I expect this week to be enormously successful. You should, too.”
“But that’s just it, Lucy. I don’t see how it can be successful. What can we possibly hope to accomplish here?” Cass bent over and rested her forehead on the pillow in her lap.
Lucy made her way back over to the settee, sat next to her friend, and hugged her, pulling her close with her arm around her shoulders. “Why, we’re going to give Julian the opportunity to know you, Cass. See you, speak with you, be alone with you. He can’t possibly wish to marry Penelope, after spending time with you.”
“But they’re betrothed—”
“No they are not. Not explicitly. Not officially. I intend to see that it remains that way. Besides, you seem to forget, your cousin doesn’t appear to be particularly interested in Captain Swift.”
Cass rubbed a hand over her forehead. How was it that Lucy always seemed to make sense when she rebutted Cass’s concerns? “Yes, but—”
“No. Stop it. Think positively. That is the only way this will work. You must promise me you’ll stop worrying.”
