“That’s better,” she nodded to herself.
Tapping a finger to her chin, she pondered. “But what can I do to make sure he knows I mean business. He is a bit unflappable.”
As she deliberated the dilemma, she noticed the heavy velvet drapes to the left of the seating area. The curtains hung from ceiling to floor, and it looked like there were voluminous layers of drapery behind them.
She shook her head, “No, no, I need to find a way to certify my marriage…”
What would make Gabriel jolt out of his disinterest….
“This came for you, my lord.” A footman bowed and handed Cassian a note.
Brow furrowing, he broke the vanilla seal and unfolded the heavy stationery.
“What’s that?” Benjamin Hadleigh, solicitor by profession and Earl of Somerton by birthright, craned his head to look over Cassian’s shoulder.
He was one of Cassian’s firm friends as far back as from Eton, Cambridge, and various other discreet organizations.
“I humbly request your presence in the display room upstairs…” he skipped over the directions to the most important part. “I hope neither of us will leave disappointed. Signed X.”
“An invitation for a rendezvous and a parting salvo, even though this lady does not know it.” Cassian spun the card over. “It is anonymous too.”
As far as I can recall, none of my old paramours are in attendance tonight.
“Are you going to take it on? Who do you think it is?” Ben asked, swirling his glass of whisky. “You are slated to go off to Greece on the morrow,” his friend added.
“Not a clue,” Cassian murmured curiously. “I cannot recognize the hand either.”
“A frisky debutante or newly minted widow,” Ben deduced, while flicking a lock of his auburn hair from a green eye. “And what room is on the third floor, second corridor, four doors on the left? Why ten o’clock on the dot as well.”
“No idea,” Cassian replied. “I do not know this house—” he slid an eye to his friend. “—appalling, I know. A rake like me should have already known the layout of every building, every hiding spot, and how dare the shadows move without my permission.”
“I am surprised you’re not simply doing a tour of the continent again,” Ben said. “You took a shine to Italy, didn’t you? The lovely city of Messina.”
Cassian’s mind flickered a certain slender, dark-haired lady with shimmering brown eyes, always clad in a dark, silk robe, and shook his head.
“I did,” Cassian smirked, “But I aim for something more permanent this time. You know very well that I aim to leave England forever. Besides, there is an entanglement in Messina that I am keen on avoiding.”
Ben’s eyes sharpened. “Please tell me you did not leave an encumbered woman behind, because in twenty years, you will be making my life hellish.”
“There is no child,” Cassian assuaged. “I simply could not give a lady what she wanted from me.”
“I… see,” Ben nodded. “You left a relationship behind while I aim to start one.” He nodded to a lady sitting near Cecilia’s friend, Miss Rosalind, and Cassian choked back a laugh.
“Lady Emma Montrose? TheDreamer? Are you mad? Her friends will scratch your eyes out before you get within a foot of her. You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” Ben replied somberly. “Have you heard her play the pianoforte? The girl is Mozart reincarnated.”
“A rake and a romantic dreamer,” Cassian laughed. “Tell me how that works out. In the meantime—” he pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “—I have twenty-three minutes to idle away.”
A waltz began, and while two lords claimed Cecilia’s friends, he wondered where she was.
“Speaking of the lady’s friends, is anyone ever going to tell Lady Cecilia?” Ben asked. “Surely no one can allow that farce to go on. Everyone knows except her.”
“She will not believe that her Gabriel Whitmore, theFaultless, has a wandering eye and is only ever interested in the lady who has all the attention in the room. Every single one for the pastfive years has gained his eye, but he has only proposed marriage to one.” Cassian sighed while sticking a hand in his pocket.
“At least, with rakes, women know not to expect too much,” he said dryly. “With men like him, bounders who dangle the promise of marriage and faithfulness on the line while never lowering the hook. That rock on her finger is nothing more than a pretty bauble.”
“Poor girl,” Ben shook his head.
