She wouldn’t cry. Dash it, no matter what else happened, she wouldnotcry.
“Are we really going to Lady Dumpling’s ball?” Sarah clasped her hands and turned her big blue eyes on Lady Fosberry.
“Lady Dumfries, dear, not Dumpling. As to whether we’re going or not, I think you’d better address that question to your elder sisters.”
“May we, Margaret? Please? Margaret!”
Margaret was miles away, her gaze fixed on Lord Hayward’s retreating form, and she jumped at Sarah’s exclamation. “For pity’s sake, Sarah, what are you shouting about?”
“I asked if we might attend Lady Dumfries’s ball. Please? It sounds like ever so much fun, and I’ve never been to a ball before.”
Margaret hesitated. Sarah had never been to a ball or anywhere else, as her fragile health had kept her well out of society until recently. There was nothing that pained Margaret more than disappointing Sarah, but she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, dearest. Our brother wouldn’t like it.”
Johnathan. Dear God, she’d been so taken up with Cass she’d forgotten all about Johnathan! If he ever found out they’d come here without his approval—without his knowledge, even—he’d be furious with all of them.
Worse, he’d be disappointed in them.
“You let me worry about Johnathan and Emmeline, hmmm?” Lady Fosberry patted Margaret’s hand. “If you’d liketo attend, my dears, I assure you I can see you safely through a ballroom.”
“But what if Johnathan finds out?” Margaret wrung her hands. “He’ll be so angry with us, and it will be my fault, as I’m the eldest.”
“Now, don’t fret, dear.” Lady Fosberry waved this away. “If your brother does find out, then we will simply remind him that if it wasn’t for the London season, he never would have found Emmeline.”
“Yes, indeed! How clever you are, my lady!” Sarah squealed, clapping her hands together. “If only I’d brought my blue silk gown! It would be just the thing for a ball.”
“Not to worry, my dear. We’ve got gowns in every shade of blue you can imagine here in London. But girls, that was an excessively strange encounter, was it not?” Lady Fosberry glanced back at Cass and Lord Hayward as the carriage slid into the tangle of conveyances then turned the corner at Curzon Street, and they were out of sight. “Even now, I’m still not certain what happened.”
“It was decidedly strange, yes. I wouldn’t have known Cass.” Margaret cast a sidelong glance at Hattie. “He’s nothing at all like I remember him.”
“It’s been years, Margaret.” Hattie tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. “He’s the Earl of Windham now. It’s only natural that he’s changed.”
“The Earl of Windham, indeed, and terribly grand, isn’t he?”
“Terribly rude, as well.” Sarah sniffed. “He is changed, and not for the better. I don’t care if he is a lord now. The way he stared at us! And he was dreadful to Hattie.”
Hattie opened her mouth to protest, to find some excuse for Cass, but closed it again without a word. What was there to say? He hadn’t merely been rude, he’d been…
Cold.
A shiver wracked her, a spray of goosebumps blooming on her neck despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun. How could the boy she’d loved so well speak to her with such frozen disdain?
“I can’t excuse his behavior, but I confess I feel rather sorry for Lord Windham. It couldn’t have been easy for him, having to contend with such a father. Hattie, my dear, take this.” Lady Fosberry reached for a carriage rug. “You look chilled.”
She was chilled, down to her marrow.
“Of course, we’ve heard the rumors about the previous Earl of Windham, just as everyone else in England has.” Margaret tucked the rug around Hattie’s knees. “But all we know about him is that Cass appeared in Kent without explanation one summer, and then he was dragged away again three months later. We never knew why.”
“Cassian’s elder brother died, that’s why. Cassian was of no consequence to his father before that, but overnight he became the heir to the title and a substantial fortune.”
“His brother?” Hattie turned from the window to stare at Lady Fosberry. “I never heard anything about Cass having a brother.”
Why had Cass never confided in her? Never, in all the years they’d been friends, had he breathed a single word of this. Perhaps they hadn’t been as close as she’d imagined.
“A half-brother, yes. He was the son of Cassian’s father and Lady Diana Ottley, Viscount Ottley’s daughter. She died soon after the boy was born, and Cass’s father spent the next five years dallying with one lady after another until at last he got a young housemaid in his employ with child. To theton’s shock, he married the girl.”
Sarah gasped. “Cass’s mother was his father’s housemaid?”
“Yes, and you can be certain thetonwon’t ever let him forget it.” Lady Fosberry sighed. “It’s a rather convoluted story, I’m afraid, and best left for another time.”
