shaky trip was nothing like the one she
had taken in Lord Sutherfield’s arms when he had carried her up the
stairs in Mr. Morley’s home. In the marquess’ embrace she had felt
secure. Roger, on the other hand, had made her feel as if she were
in imminent danger of being dropped, causing another injury.
Roger insisted on placing a rug on her lap
even though the day was warm. I knew it, she thought
miserably a few moments later as her limbs grew damp beneath her
skirts. Penelope climbed in beside her, Roger followed and the trio
set off at a spanking clip.
If they had placed an order, they could not
have had a more perfect day to enjoy a picnic. Pleasantly sunny,
great puffy clouds dotted the blue sky like mounds of clotted
cream. The hint of a breeze kept the air fresh, and Cassandra
breathed deeply, enjoying her first excursion into the outside
world in more than a sennight.
It took only a few minutes to arrive at
their destination. The picnic was held on her grandfather’s
property in a grove of willows, an entrancing place lush with
greenery sporting a small stream. It had, everyone agreed, the
perfect picnic ambiance.
A large tent had already been erected, and
tables were being filled with platter after platter of the finger
foods the earl had claimed he despised. However, a servant carved a
great joint of roast beef, so it seemed those individuals with a
heartier appetite would not be disappointed. Tantalizing smells
drifted toward them as they drew up in the landaulet, and
Cassandra’s stomach mewled hungrily.
“Stay here,” Roger demanded, as he climbed
down from his seat. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Now where could she go with her injured
foot? She watched in envy as Penelope scrambled out of the
carriage, having spotted Regina Barkley. Regina and Penelope had
become fast friends these last weeks, and Cassandra felt a moment’s
sadness, not because she wanted a closer relationship with her
cousin but because all at once she found herself missing Sophy.
“How are you today, Miss James?”
That ended her reverie. Cassandra glanced
over her shoulder and into the warm regard of the Marquess of
Sutherfield. Her pulse quickened.
“Lord Sutherfield, have I detected a pattern
here?”
“Excuse me?” He gave her a crooked grin.
“It seems you always appear before I even
know you are near. How refreshing it would be to catch sight of you
before you catch sight of me.”
He nodded. “I would like that,” he said in a
solemn voice.
“Oh?”
“That would mean you are looking for me just
as I look for you.”
Cassandra blinked. Her mouth dropped open
but not a word came to her in response. She narrowed her eyes at
him.
“You are a rogue, my lord.”
Lord Sutherfield’s brows snapped together.
“Excuse me?”
“Pretty words come easily to you, don’t
they?”
“Are you questioning my motives?”
“And if I am?”
“Please forgive me if I have offended you,
Miss James. That was not my intention.” Bowing stiffly, he turned
and walked away.
“Cassandra, can’t I leave you alone for a
moment?” Roger had arrived at her elbow, wearing a look of
disapproval. “You promised Uncle you would not encourage Lord
Sutherfield.”
“Roger,” she said through gritted teeth, “I
was not encouraging Lord Sutherfield. I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, but my foot is interfering with my ability to chase
gentlemen this week. Please, how long am I going to have to sit
here?”
“No need to be snide, my dear. I know your
foot must be paining you. Come, our blanket is ready.”
She allowed herself to be pulled out of the
carriage and into her cousin’s arms, though not without a great
deal of resentment. She had been looking forward to this day, yet
between Roger and the marquess it was nearly ruined.
They stumbled toward their picnic sight and
he plunked Cassandra on the ground, grunting as he did so. He
straightened and smiled in relief, gratified, she imagined, that he
had managed
had taken in Lord Sutherfield’s arms when he had carried her up the
stairs in Mr. Morley’s home. In the marquess’ embrace she had felt
secure. Roger, on the other hand, had made her feel as if she were
in imminent danger of being dropped, causing another injury.
Roger insisted on placing a rug on her lap
even though the day was warm. I knew it, she thought
miserably a few moments later as her limbs grew damp beneath her
skirts. Penelope climbed in beside her, Roger followed and the trio
set off at a spanking clip.
If they had placed an order, they could not
have had a more perfect day to enjoy a picnic. Pleasantly sunny,
great puffy clouds dotted the blue sky like mounds of clotted
cream. The hint of a breeze kept the air fresh, and Cassandra
breathed deeply, enjoying her first excursion into the outside
world in more than a sennight.
It took only a few minutes to arrive at
their destination. The picnic was held on her grandfather’s
property in a grove of willows, an entrancing place lush with
greenery sporting a small stream. It had, everyone agreed, the
perfect picnic ambiance.
A large tent had already been erected, and
tables were being filled with platter after platter of the finger
foods the earl had claimed he despised. However, a servant carved a
great joint of roast beef, so it seemed those individuals with a
heartier appetite would not be disappointed. Tantalizing smells
drifted toward them as they drew up in the landaulet, and
Cassandra’s stomach mewled hungrily.
“Stay here,” Roger demanded, as he climbed
down from his seat. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Now where could she go with her injured
foot? She watched in envy as Penelope scrambled out of the
carriage, having spotted Regina Barkley. Regina and Penelope had
become fast friends these last weeks, and Cassandra felt a moment’s
sadness, not because she wanted a closer relationship with her
cousin but because all at once she found herself missing Sophy.
“How are you today, Miss James?”
That ended her reverie. Cassandra glanced
over her shoulder and into the warm regard of the Marquess of
Sutherfield. Her pulse quickened.
“Lord Sutherfield, have I detected a pattern
here?”
“Excuse me?” He gave her a crooked grin.
“It seems you always appear before I even
know you are near. How refreshing it would be to catch sight of you
before you catch sight of me.”
He nodded. “I would like that,” he said in a
solemn voice.
“Oh?”
“That would mean you are looking for me just
as I look for you.”
Cassandra blinked. Her mouth dropped open
but not a word came to her in response. She narrowed her eyes at
him.
“You are a rogue, my lord.”
Lord Sutherfield’s brows snapped together.
“Excuse me?”
“Pretty words come easily to you, don’t
they?”
“Are you questioning my motives?”
“And if I am?”
“Please forgive me if I have offended you,
Miss James. That was not my intention.” Bowing stiffly, he turned
and walked away.
“Cassandra, can’t I leave you alone for a
moment?” Roger had arrived at her elbow, wearing a look of
disapproval. “You promised Uncle you would not encourage Lord
Sutherfield.”
“Roger,” she said through gritted teeth, “I
was not encouraging Lord Sutherfield. I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, but my foot is interfering with my ability to chase
gentlemen this week. Please, how long am I going to have to sit
here?”
“No need to be snide, my dear. I know your
foot must be paining you. Come, our blanket is ready.”
She allowed herself to be pulled out of the
carriage and into her cousin’s arms, though not without a great
deal of resentment. She had been looking forward to this day, yet
between Roger and the marquess it was nearly ruined.
They stumbled toward their picnic sight and
he plunked Cassandra on the ground, grunting as he did so. He
straightened and smiled in relief, gratified, she imagined, that he
had managed