“Why are you alone?” Marissa asked as she came to stand beside her.
She looked at her new friend and smiled. “Not everyone finds me refreshing and I find it simply easier to stay out of the way.” She gazed out over the swirling couples enjoying the latest reel. “Why are you not tending to your duties as hostess?”
“I am.” She linked her arm with Cassandra's and they strolled along the periphery of the ballroom. “I am pleased you attended. I must say that I am surprised by the affect you have had on my brother.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My brother, dear Cassandra, has never requested an introduction to a young woman.” She glanced at Cassandra's dance card. “And he has never made a point of signing one's dance card.”
Cassandra looked at the object of the conversation tied to her wrist with a piece of ribbon. His name was the only one there and a thrill of anticipation besieged her when she noted he had reserved a waltz.
She met her friend's stare. “Nothing can come of this. Aunt Gertrude has told me more than once they wish Sara to marry His Grace.”
“Believe me when I say that is a match that will never happen. Oh, Jamie thinks he wants to marry her, but he does not, not really, which is probably why he has not approached your uncle yet.”
She smiled at her friend. “So you know your brother's heart that well?”
“Yes. I also know what will make him happy, and your aloof and controlled cousin is not that person.”
They stopped beside an open door and a delicate breeze washed over them, dispelling some of the heat created by so many bodies. Marissa's ball was a crush and therefore a complete success.
“You know I will never be a proper wife for any titled gentleman.” Cassandra tried not to grimace. “I simply don't fit here.”
Marissa laughed. “You belong here. Where you do not belong is with your aunt and uncle.” She leaned close. “If you will forgive my candor, they do not have your best interests at heart. I do not mean to speak ill of people, but they are not terribly supportive.”
Cassandra met her aunt's gaze and felt the icy disdain the woman didn't bother to hide. “I don't know why she finds fault with me.”
“You are everything her daughter Sara is not. You are kind, very pretty and people notice you.”
The music of the orchestra continued and the elegant movements of the dancers left her spellbound. Then she saw him. James.
He was dancing with her cousin, and they were beautiful together. He was tall and dark, which complemented Sara's blonde, delicate looks. She was porcelain doll perfection, yet Cassandra didn't envy her or wish to be her. Well, that wasn't entirely true; it would have been heaven to be dancing this reel with James.
“Your facial expressions give you away, my friend,” Marissa whispered in her ear.
Cassandra pulled her gaze from the couple. “They are perfect together, and she will make him proud as a duchess. I know nothing of society's ways and if you think your brother would set aside a lifetime of dictates—”
“Why do you keep saying you are not right for him? You are the granddaughter of a viscount, and your uncle is an earl. Simply because you lived in America does not make you unseemly.”
Cassandra patted Marissa's hand. “You are a wonderful friend, but many members of the ton would disagree with you.”
She turned and searched for James but couldn't find him. It didn't matter. She'd already been warned by her aunt and uncle that he wasn't for her. She would enjoy their dance and then do her best to blend into the background.
And of course she would apply herself to finding a husband, as this seemed the only available way for her to get out from under her aunt's judgmental nature. Yet even a change of address and name would do little to raise her worth in her aunt's eyes.
The music ended in a crescendo, and many of the dancing couples headed toward the room which held the various refreshments offered the guests. Cassandra decided this was as good a time as any to head toward her aunt and cousin. “If you will excuse me, Marissa, I had better return to Aunt Gertrude.”
Her friend squeezed both her hands. “Let the magic of the evening sweep you away, Cassie. Do not play into the role your family has assigned you.”
Cassandra smiled. “My, aren't you mystical this eve.”
“My brother said almost the same thing earlier.” She leaned over and whispered, “For once, let yourself have fun. You are not a servant, and you owe them nothing.”
Cassandra watched as her friend gracefully moved through the crowd to her waiting husband and sighed. They were so in love. A small part of Cassandra envied Marissa; Cassandra wanted a loving relationship in which both parties admired and respected each other, too. A relationship like her parents had shared.
The cool civility of most ton marriages didn't impress her in the slightest. Why did so many find such unions acceptable?
She wended her way over to her aunt and cousin.
“I could not help but notice you talking to His Grace's sister,” Sara commented. “Did she tell you anything that will assist me in capturing his attention?”
Cassandra wanted to blurt out that she didn't have a chance and to set her sights on someone else, but refrained. “No, I'm sorry. We were discussing the possibility of an afternoon visit within the next few days.”
Sara continued to stare for a moment before she turned away. She brought a hand up to her chest and whispered, “Mama, he is coming this way. The next dance is to be a waltz.”
Cassandra watched as James approached. The crowds parted for him instantly, and despite her best effort, her heartbeat accelerated and a strange wanting displaced her normally clear-headed thinking. She wanted to experience the waltz in this man's arms.
“My lady.” He bowed to Cassandra. “I believe this is our waltz.”
He held out his arm, and as if in a trance, she placed her gloved hand on his forearm, appreciating the hard muscle that lay beneath the dark sleeve.
With confidence, he led her to the dance floor. The parquet wood shined a warm patina under the soft glow of the multitude of candles burning in the chandeliers. This would be a memory she would cherish, reliving it in the quiet moments when her life did not live up to what her wishes were. Once long ago I waltzed in the arms of a handsome duke.
The orchestra began playing the waltz, and James placed one hand on her back and held her hand gently in the other. The warmth of his touch penetrated the gloves on both of their hands.
Suddenly, shyness overwhelmed her. For the first time in her eight and ten years of life, she was keenly aware of the scent of a man and how it affected her. She trembled with almost debilitating nervousness. Was there something wrong with her?
“Look at me, my lady. I promise not to bite.” James's voice was mellow, deep and reminded her of dark chocolate.
She jerked her gaze to his, and her breath stuttered in her chest. The shimmering light revealed the various planes and angles of his face. He was so handsome, and when he smiled as he did now, a small dimple appeared on the left side of his face. So disarming the effect on her, she stumbled. “I'm sorry.”
“Why are you nervous with me? You were not earlier, when we were together and alone as perfect strangers.”
“Earlier, I hid in the shadows, and had no idea you were meant for my cousin.”
“I am still the same person I was in the shadows, Cassandra. There is no reason for you to be shy or afraid of me.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Liar,” he said in a low gravelly voice.
They continued to spin and twirl around the corners of the dance floor as if floating. Never had she experienced the weightlessness of gliding and dancing upon air with her dance master. What magic did this man wield? He was a danger to her. To her heart and her soul.
“You dance beautifully.” James continued to lead them around the floor, his eyes never leaving her face. A moment passed before he said, “Tell me what is causing the shad
ows in your eyes.”
The man was too perceptive for her peace of mind, another trait she found both frightening and compelling. She met his penetrating stare. “Everyone holds secrets, Your Grace. I am no different.”
“That is where you are wrong. You are very different. A breath of fresh air.”
They continued to dance quietly for half a revolution and then James said, “Are you aware, you are not using this time to your greatest advantage, my lady?”
“What do you mean? We are dancing and sharing conversation.”
“You have me as a captive audience. During the time it takes for this beautiful waltz to play, you are supposed to hold my attention and talk about fashion and weather.” He smiled. “Or you could go on and on about your accomplishments.”
Cassandra smiled, and then laughed daintily. “I'm sorry that I am once again disappointing you, Your Grace. But, alas I find the London weather does not change enough for one to wax poetic about it. As for fashion, my sweet mama taught me never to go on and on about things that will not interest a person. And for some reason, I doubt you would be interested in the latest couture coming from Paris.”
“Hmm. So how are you going to impress me into remembering you?”
She pretended to think. “Well, I could get rather excited talking about the wonderful new book I recently read. It was penned by Jane Austen. Have you heard of her?”
James smiled. “Yes, my lady. I have.”
“Well, Sense and Sensibility was an amazing story. One I truly enjoyed. I would love to meet her.”
“So ... you are one of those,” he teased. “You can read.”
She returned his smile. “Why yes, I can.” She leaned closer—not so close society would be scandalized, but close enough in order to whisper, “I can also add and subtract.” She moved back and waited for his reaction.
James threw back his head and laughed. Cassandra became aware that they were the center of attention. Oh, dear. This wasn't what her aunt wanted of her. She was supposed to dance and not draw attention to herself. She was probably also not supposed to amuse James as she had.
“You, my lady, are charming. A true bluestocking.”
Cassandra frowned. “May I ask you a question?”
James pulled her closer and whispered, “Anything.”
“Do you really see me as a bluestocking?” For some reason this idea stung. Deep down, she did want to impress this handsome man. She wanted to capture his attention and hold it. Not because he was a member of the peerage. In her opinion, his high rank was more of a deterrent then the inevitable dressing down Aunt Gertrude would give her.
“No, little one, I do not see you as anything but charming and engaging. This has been the most entertaining waltz I have ever shared with another.”
His words wrapped themselves around her in a warm cloak of acceptance. She finally found the one thing she had lost since coming to England six months earlier. To find it with this stranger and not her family left her a bit unbalanced.
She was pulled from her thoughts when he bent and whispered, “This is where you flatter me in return, my lady.”
“You are more beautiful than any man I have ever encountered, and for the first time in my life I wish I were someone else.” The words flowed from her unbidden.
James's expression changed from teasing to serious. “Never wish you are someone else, little one. You are perfect as you are.” His voice was deep, yet hoarse.
It was the perfect thing to say and she smiled. “As are you, Your Grace.”
The waltz came to an end, and she curtsied to him. “Thank you for the beautiful dance.”
James lifted her from her curtsy and escorted her back to her aunt. He bowed deep. “My lady.” He lifted her gloved hand and placed a kiss directly on the satin of her glove. The heat from his lips burned her through the material. She watched as he offered her a slight wink before he turned on polished heel and moved away.
Her cousin grabbed her arm. “What was the meaning of that display?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Aunt Gertrude. “Mama, did you see that?”
“Yes, Sara.” She linked her arm through Cassandra's. “Come dear, you look over warm. Perhaps it is time for you to return home. Clearly the festivities are proving more then you can handle tonight.”
Cassandra allowed her aunt to pull her through the crowd. In truth, she wanted to return to the Mayfair address and curl up with the latest Jane Austen title she had picked up the other day at Hatchards.
“I will just have your uncle put you in the carriage. We will return later. Ta, darling.” Gertrude handed her over to her uncle with hushed instructions.
“I see you managed to anger your aunt again. What did you do now, darling?”
“I danced a waltz with His Grace, the Duke of Sandringham.”
“Oh.” The word hung there, neither of them acknowledging the impact of such a simple act.
Cassandra waited as her wrap was retrieved and gave a last longing look over her shoulder. She didn't want to stay, but with the same breath she didn't want to leave either. She would never share the same intimacy with James ever again.
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* * *
Chapter Three
James rose early the next morning. He wanted to clear his schedule so he could call upon Cassandra Davenport. When he looked for her a quarter of an hour after their dance, he was bothered to hear she had returned home. Something about it did not ring true
Sometime between the waltz with Cassandra and the reel with her cousin Sara, James came to the brutal conclusion his sister was right. He could not offer for Lady Sara. Not if he wanted the rest of his life to be free of narrow mindedness and icy perfection.
No, he wanted laughter and smiles. Teasing and gentle touches. These were things he could find with Cassandra. She wished on stars and talked to ghosts. She loved to read, and she could cipher. He was a duke of the realm, and had more money than he could spend in two lifetimes. But whimsy and softness were missing in his life. To his surprise, this was what he wanted. By the time he managed to work his way through the many correspondences that needed his direct attention, the morning was spent. He penned a note to Cassandra and called a footman in order to deliver it.
“I am glad I caught you.” Marissa moved into the study, interrupting his thoughts.
James set about sorting the various items resting on the top of his desk. “Hello, sister dear. What can I do for you this afternoon?”
Marissa stared at him in silence.
He smiled. “Well, did you come by for a reason or did you simply want to stare at me?”
“Actually, I wanted to ask a favor.” She walked over to his desk, tilted her head and continued to meet his direct gaze. “Are you unwell? You are positively cheerful.”
James stopped tidying his desk. “I am a cheerful enough fellow.”
Marissa's tinkling laugh filled the room. “I must say, you have been acting very peculiar since last evening. Mama sent a note over telling of your jovial behavior this morn. Early for you, is it not?”
James thoughts of Cassandra distracted him from his sister's chatter. Would Cassandra enjoy the opera? Perhaps she would prefer the theatre. So many details he looked forward to learning.
“I overheard something last eve that concerned me.” His sister's voice interrupted his pleasant thoughts.
James stilled. “Tell me.”
“The Countess of Chester was speaking to her wretched daughter about her plans of shipping Cassandra to Scotland.”
“Scotland!”
“Yes, Scotland. Apparently she did not care for the fact you danced a waltz with Cassie and not with her daughter.”
James clenched his hands into fists. Anger burned through him. The only reason why they would do this was him. “Do you know when they plan on packing her up and sending her away?”
“Today.”
James strode around his desk and placed a kiss on Marissa's che
ek. “Thank you, dear sister. Now if you will excuse me. I have something to which I must attend.”
He didn't wait for her to respond before he was out the door calling for his horse to be saddled. Within a quarter of an hour he was mounted and wending his way through London's crowded streets. He waved briefly to those he passed and recognized.
When he arrived at his destination, it was in time to see a trunk being loaded onto the back of a carriage. He all but jumped from his mount and ran for the front door.
The door was opened by a dour faced butler. “Please tell his lordship that the Duke of Sandringham wishes an audience.”
Moments later he was being led to a study where Chester waited for him. “Your Grace, how can I be of assistance?”
James wasted no time. “I have come to ask for your niece's hand in marriage.”
For a stunned moment neither of them spoke. James had no idea where the words had come from. He hadn't come with any firm plans other than to stop them from sending Cassandra away.
“I am sorry. Did you say you were interested in Cassandra?”
“Yes.”
Chester dropped into his chair and stared at him. “I do not know what to say. I confess I believed you were interested in my daughter.”
James sat, but said nothing—at first. “Your daughter is very charming, Chester, and I do apologize if I said or did anything that led you to believe I would offer for her.”
Chester waved the words off. “No need to apologize, Your Grace. Truthfully it was more my wife's idea than anything else.”
James resisted the desire to roll his eyes. It was well known—even accepted—that Chester had been hungry for the match. The betting books at White's were filled with wagers on when James would offer for her. “I would like to take things slow, give Cassandra a chance to come to terms with my offer.”
“She does not come with a large dowry, Your Grace. Her father was a successful physician, but a second son.”
“I have no need for her money, Chester.”
A Dance of Manners Page 23