“We were notin flagrante—my word!” Cassandra blushed. “It wasonekiss!”
Jasmine cackled. “That’s why they call you a harlot.”
“I don’t want to hear that.” Matthew scowled. “Skip to the partwhere I owe Lady Jasmine money.”
“Shall we finally see Lady Worthing, this Friday?”Caroline read. “The Countess has been oddly absent after her public fall from grace in Madame Fournier’s. Perhaps it isn’t shame that keeps her away, but happier tidings? Sources close to the family say that Lady Worthing is with child. After these long years, it appears that an heir is in the air for Lord Worthing. Aged, yet virile! Congratulations to this contest couple!”
“An heir is in the air!” Jasmine crowed and extended her palm. “I’ll take my sovereign now, please.”
“I’ll hold on to my coin until the babe cries,” Matthew said. “It might be a girl.”
“I’m patient.” Jasmine took a sip of her tea. “It’s a boy. I have a feeling about these things.”
“Because of yourvastexperience with ‘those things’?” Matthew raised a brow. “I’ll eagerly awaitmysovereign.”
The clock chimed eleven, and Seth stood.
“Are you going to see Lord Bolderwood?” Caroline asked.
“It’s part of my deal.” Seth gave Cassandra a peck on her cheek and turned to Trevor. “Are you coming with me today, Trevor?”
“I’ll stay here and protect Mrs. Reeves. No harm will come to her on my watch,” Trevor vowed.
“Very well.” Seth smiled. “Carry on, then.”
Trevor saluted him. “Yes, sir.”
Weeks after being shot, Seth still couldn’t remember their attacker’s face. The ‘wait and see’ strategy hung heavier over his shoulders with each passing day. He didn’t want Cassandra to leave the house without protection, but she had won that argument on the condition she would take Trevor with her on her errands. Though she doubted how much protection the boy could provide, she enjoyed his company.
“Seth,” Cassandra called out before he reached the door. “There’s apackage of shortbread in the kitchen, could you bring that with you?”
Seth scowled.
“I’m not bringing Lord Bolderwoodbiscuits.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Shortbread isn’t a gift, it’s a bribe.” He eyed her suspiciously. “What are you trying to get now?”
“My way.” Cassandra stood on her toes and kissed him on his cheek. “Have a good day at work.”
“I’m suddenly doubting that,” Seth grumbled.
The sun had set, and she was already in bed when Seth returned home that evening. From the foot of the bed, he tossed her a small rectangular wooden box. Simple, butold, the case was worn and held together by a tiny brass clasp.
“What’s this?”
“Lord Bolderwood’s counter offer.”
The clasp clicked open under Cassandra’s thumb. Inside, wrapped in fine red silk, was a rose wrought from silver on a slender andsharpspike. Red rubies dripped from diamond lined petals as if someone had pricked their fingers on a thorn. The piece glinted dangerously in the lamplight. “Another hairpin?”
“A family heirloom, he says. He wants you to wear it this Friday,” Seth said the words as if he might choke on them.
Lord Bolderwood often had these requests before formal events, gifting her ornate hairpins that should have rightfully gone to Adrian’s future wife.It must have belonged to Rebecca. Cassandra smiled, closed the box, and handed it back to Seth. He set it on the vanity before pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.
“And a letter.”
He flicked the letter between his fingers and held it aloft above her head. She plucked it from his hands and read aloud, “Mrs. Reeves. Ihave been more than lenient in allowing Saturday morning breakfast, and do not appreciate these additional requests. I will remind you once more that Britain is at war. Do not waste my time. Be succinct and specify what you determine to be areasonable hourto have your husband home at night.”Cassandra smirked. “I had our new cook make a fresh batch of apple hand pies, bring those with you when you go tomorrow. I want you home for supper.”