A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND Page A
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wanted to believe him, but her wretched money kept getting in the way. She had known him for so short a time and had taken such a great step in deciding to trust herself to him. Now her steps were faltering.
She thought of Lady Margaret, elegant, polished, and not so much older than Peter himself. Cassie had always felt that her chaperon effortlessly achieved all the town bronze that she so significantly lacked. And Peter was used to a more sophisticated society, one in which no doubt there was nothing odd in courting an heiress and bedding a mistress at the same time. Cassie knew that it went on. Just because Peter could set her feelings alight with the slightest touch, she was not naamp2;¨ve enough to think that she was the only one.
She smothered a tiny sob. For a little while she had allowed herself to think that Peter’s interest was focused solely on her. She had believed that he loved her. She wrinkled her brow as she wondered why it had always felt such a struggle to gain affection. First she had had to compete with her mother’s illness to gain attention, then with all of her cousins’ other interests, then withLady Margaret’s elegance and always, always with her own huge pile of money.
Cassie squared her shoulders. As Eliza had pointed out a little while ago, no good came from feeling sorry for oneself. There were plenty of people who would be glad to suffer the kind of misery that her wealth brought her. Cassie smiled slightly, feeling a little better. The rest of the party were mere specks on the hill behind her. She had outrun them all. She had had some time alone to think and plan. So she would talk to Peter Quinlan and judge for herself whether he was telling the truth. Then she would make her decision. It was all very ordered and decisive. Cassie felt pleased with herself that for once she was approaching matters in entirely the right way. No losing her head and compromising herself, no marching impulsively into a gentleman’s bedchamber. A measured, sensible discussion was all that was required.
Chapter Six
T he rest of the group caught up with Cassie as she was dismounting on the gravel of the courtyard. It was raining in earnest now and there was no time for chat as they handed the horses over to the grooms and hurried inside.
The house was dark and quiet. Ufton, the butler, was crossing the hall from the library and looked slightly taken aback to see them returned so soon.
‘We will take a light luncheon in the dining room in half an hour, if you please, Ufton,’ Sarah said. ‘It was too inclement for our picnic, I fear. We shall have to go out another day.’
Cassie put a hand out and touched Peter’s arm. It was now—before her nerve deserted her—or never.
‘I need to speak with you,’ she whispered, and saw the flash of relief that crossed his face at her words. He looked tired and strained and her heart twisted with emotion. She gestured across the hall. ‘In the library. Please.’
The rest of the party was milling around. Anthony made some mention of a game of billiards. Sarah started towards the staircase to change her clothes before luncheon. Cassie and Peter set off towards the library.
And then there was one of those strange moments that happen even in the most ordered of households when everything appeared to stop.
One of the younger housemaids was coming down the main staircase, carrying her cleaning brushes and firebox. She looked nervous upon seeing the family, but rather than scuttle towards the backstairs, as Cassie expected her to do, she hesitated, clearly anxious. There was a long silence when everyone seemed to stand waiting and Ufton glared at the girl, evidently shocked and angry that a maid had dared to use the main stairs and had not effaced herself against the wall when her betters had returned.
‘What are you doing here, girl?’ he snapped. ‘Get down the backstairs! At once!’
To Cassie’s shock, the maid dropped the brushes, put her hands up to
She thought of Lady Margaret, elegant, polished, and not so much older than Peter himself. Cassie had always felt that her chaperon effortlessly achieved all the town bronze that she so significantly lacked. And Peter was used to a more sophisticated society, one in which no doubt there was nothing odd in courting an heiress and bedding a mistress at the same time. Cassie knew that it went on. Just because Peter could set her feelings alight with the slightest touch, she was not naamp2;¨ve enough to think that she was the only one.
She smothered a tiny sob. For a little while she had allowed herself to think that Peter’s interest was focused solely on her. She had believed that he loved her. She wrinkled her brow as she wondered why it had always felt such a struggle to gain affection. First she had had to compete with her mother’s illness to gain attention, then with all of her cousins’ other interests, then withLady Margaret’s elegance and always, always with her own huge pile of money.
Cassie squared her shoulders. As Eliza had pointed out a little while ago, no good came from feeling sorry for oneself. There were plenty of people who would be glad to suffer the kind of misery that her wealth brought her. Cassie smiled slightly, feeling a little better. The rest of the party were mere specks on the hill behind her. She had outrun them all. She had had some time alone to think and plan. So she would talk to Peter Quinlan and judge for herself whether he was telling the truth. Then she would make her decision. It was all very ordered and decisive. Cassie felt pleased with herself that for once she was approaching matters in entirely the right way. No losing her head and compromising herself, no marching impulsively into a gentleman’s bedchamber. A measured, sensible discussion was all that was required.
Chapter Six
T he rest of the group caught up with Cassie as she was dismounting on the gravel of the courtyard. It was raining in earnest now and there was no time for chat as they handed the horses over to the grooms and hurried inside.
The house was dark and quiet. Ufton, the butler, was crossing the hall from the library and looked slightly taken aback to see them returned so soon.
‘We will take a light luncheon in the dining room in half an hour, if you please, Ufton,’ Sarah said. ‘It was too inclement for our picnic, I fear. We shall have to go out another day.’
Cassie put a hand out and touched Peter’s arm. It was now—before her nerve deserted her—or never.
‘I need to speak with you,’ she whispered, and saw the flash of relief that crossed his face at her words. He looked tired and strained and her heart twisted with emotion. She gestured across the hall. ‘In the library. Please.’
The rest of the party was milling around. Anthony made some mention of a game of billiards. Sarah started towards the staircase to change her clothes before luncheon. Cassie and Peter set off towards the library.
And then there was one of those strange moments that happen even in the most ordered of households when everything appeared to stop.
One of the younger housemaids was coming down the main staircase, carrying her cleaning brushes and firebox. She looked nervous upon seeing the family, but rather than scuttle towards the backstairs, as Cassie expected her to do, she hesitated, clearly anxious. There was a long silence when everyone seemed to stand waiting and Ufton glared at the girl, evidently shocked and angry that a maid had dared to use the main stairs and had not effaced herself against the wall when her betters had returned.
‘What are you doing here, girl?’ he snapped. ‘Get down the backstairs! At once!’
To Cassie’s shock, the maid dropped the brushes, put her hands up to
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