And maybe she wasn’t the same as her kin, because she had enough logic to understand why Henry had behaved the way he did. He didn’t have many reasons to trust that anyonecared about him. Not when the people who should have loved him most—his parents—failed him. The world saw the austere, foreboding duke. Fleur saw a big, cuddly bear with a burr stuck in its paw. He would hate that analogy, too.
And Henry had been correct when he said the timingwasconvenient, as he had called it.
As such, though still skeptical, Fleur agreed to do as Jeremy, Kilmartin, and Linnie advised.
A written invitation and a flower shop’s worth of flowers arrived from Lord Cassian, requesting to escort Fleur to the theatre the next night. Her parents granted permission at once, assuming Fleur had found her heart.
All Fleur’s neighbors in Mayfair saw Lord Cassian’s carriage arrive at the McQuoids residence—as had been the plan. And then, a growing crowd watched as flowers streamed in. Then, when Lord Cassian arrived to escort Fleur to the theatre, with Lord and Lady Tremaine acting as chaperones, they saw that, too.
An uproar had been the intended effect. A stir was exactly what they created. London’s leading diamond, who had yet to encourage courtship, had chosen Lord Cassian Kilmartin—shipping captain, man-of-affairs, second son, rogue of the first order. Naturally, this made sense to Polite Society: Lady Fleurwasa McQuoid, and McQuoids married only for love. That two of the ladies had conveniently landed a duke or future duke was neither here nor there.
Between Lord Cassian lifting Fleur into the carriage—with many watching nearby—and helping her down at the theatre, word had already spread throughout London. His lingering kiss on her wrist set off more sighs in the waiting crowd.
Everyone knew: Lady Fleur McQuoid, the Season’s prize, would not be available on the Marriage Mart for long. Lady Fleur had made her choice.
The crowd was taken.
Fleur hated every moment of it.
As for Lord Cassian, the puckish rogue swallowed it whole, relishing every aspect of their performance.
When they entered Theatre Royal at Drury Lane, arm in arm, every patron in all three tiers of crimson boxes—and the crowded standing area—swung their attention to the handsome couple.
It seemed the entire ton had squeezed into the theatre. Now they waited, breaths held, at the literal edge of their seats. They watched as Lord Cassian escorted Fleur in a slow, grand, beautiful entrée.
Some described the way Fleur and Lord Cassian moved together as gliding. Their mastery of movement would later be compared to a dance.
Envious sighs washed over the crowd. The men longed to be Lord Cassian. All the ladies—from debutantes to dowagers—wanted tobeFleur.
After all, it was a truth universally acknowledged that seafaring second sons were bachelors until they died—unless they fell madly in love, and when they did…
Well, when they did, those rogues wore the same possessive, scorching look Lord Cassian did as he watched Fleur.
The debonair rogue kept Fleur’s fingers tucked into his sleeve, her palm hidden from view. It was as if he warned: Ye who approach will be separated from his hand. In truth, Lord Cassian said nothing to anyone; all his whispered words belonged to Fleur.
And meanwhile, his whispered words were the thing that kept Fleur tethered to this place and his and Jeremy’s plan—stories about Henry. One after another. Ones from their days as young lads. And later, when Henry had the idea for a shippingventure, to indulge Jeremy’s love for the sea, and to also help keep Jeremy away from the late duke.
“…On the way to Melton Mowbray, a little girl’s cries came up near River Wreake,” he was saying. “Granted, Tremaine and I assumed it was a child’s game, with all the laughter, it was hard to believe it was anything else. Naturally, Hart knew differently because Hart naturally knows all,”
Lord Cassian paused his telling to give a slow wink, which everyone watching would take as flirtatious—which they did.
That skillful flutter set off dreamy sighs, while all Fleur wanted was to pinch him and urge him on. He did so, but only made her love Henry more.
“A trio of irksome lads had tossed a small, mangy puppy into the river. Hart, beingHart, rescuer of those in need of defending, dove in—boots and all—and rescued the pup. The minute he climbed himself out of the water, he was covered in mud, holding an armful of animal, and giving a big old ducal set-down to the fiends.”
Fleur sighed her first real sigh in the presence of Lord Cassian. “That lass will remember that moment for years to come.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Lord Cassian concurred. They reached Linnie and Jeremy’s box and waited for the couple to enter. “The children wanted to join a theatre troupe and were practicing when Hart interrupted. The pup was part of the performance. The pup wasalsoan English water spaniel. Hart got a swift kick to the knee and a stern scolding from the lass, who ordered him off his own estate and told him not to return. And,” he said as he escorted her inside, “I’m fairly certain he hasn’t been allowed back since.”
At the image conjured of towering, imposing Henry drenched in water and covered in mud getting a lecture from a wee lass, Fleur laughed.
“There it is,” He gave another one of those seductive winks. “More of that, darling.” He spread a palm towards her seat. “Here we are.”
Lord Cassian had been so kind, as had Jeremy; both were so friendly and supportive that she had no reason to doubt when they’d told her to place her trust in them.
Seated in Jeremy and Linnie’s theatre box, with Lord Cassian just behind her, Fleur now wondered if she had been misled. Perhaps Henry’s brother and best friend had truly coordinated with Henry all along, not to help her, but to maximize her suffering.
What else could she think?