“I am a guest,” Cassie pointed out. “So you needn’t feel guilty.”
He came back to the table and laid his bow down. “Believe me, guilt is the last emotion I am feeling at the moment.” He said it lightly, but somehow his voice still carried a note of meaning. Cassie’s heart quickened, and she ordered it to calm. He could have meant a million different things.
Roland crossed his arms. “But before we abandon our pleasant sojourn here, I must insist you take a turn.”
“Those words will be etched on your gravestone,” Cassie warned.
He fought a grin. “They will be well worth it if you are as bad as you say. Then at least you can provide the both of us with some entertainment.”
“How can I refuse such an offer when it includes guaranteed mocking?”
“Oh, I do not guarantee it. That depends entirely on your lack of skill.” He picked up a smaller bow. “Here, use this. It was mine when I was a boy, so it will be easier to draw.”
“I suppose I could try,” she said reluctantly as he strung the bow. She didn’t particularly want to make a fool of herself, but archery seemed to make him happy. And for reasons she was not very clear on, she wanted to make Roland happy.
“I have every faith in you.” He held out the bow with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.
“All right.” Cassie took the bow and a few arrows. She moved closer to the target and set the arrows on the ground. He remained at the table, no doubt in fear for his life.
She had used a bow and arrow before, but not often. Neither she nor Vivian had a special fondness for archery, so revealing her lack of skill was thankfully not adding to the deception. Cassie nocked an arrow on the string as she’d watched Roland do, then raised the bow. Drawing the arrow back to her ear, she stared down the length of the smooth wood and aimed at the center of the target.
She released the arrow, and off it flew. That is, until it skittered to the floor not twenty feet away.
“So it wasn’t false modesty.” A laugh hid in Roland’s voice.
Cassie gave an exaggerated huff. “I allowed you ten shots, so I expect the same courtesy.”
“Of course. Unless you wish for my help?”
She’d been bending to fetch another arrow, but she nearly fell over as she spotted him approaching from the corner of her eye.
“No, no,” she said hastily, finding her balance. “No, I will be perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”
He gave her a strange look. “As you wish,” he said, thankfully returning to the table.
Cassie let out a breath of relief as she turned back to the target. Her heart was already a mess, her stomach made of twisting currents. It was best if he stood far, far away.
She raised the bow again, this time pulling back the string farther. She didn’t mind his teasing, not when he took hers so well, but she wanted to impress him all the same. This arrow would make it to the target. Aiming the tip of her arrow, she tried to keep her arms as steady as possible. She relaxed her right hand, preparing to release.
“Roland?”
Cassie’s arm jerked at the voice. She yelped at the same moment that her arrow tore from her fingers—
—and buried itself in the polished wood of the open ballroom door, not inches from Mrs. Hastings’s wide, white eyes.
“Heavens,” the woman gasped, clutching a hand to her heart as she staggered back.
“Mrs. Hastings,” Cassie squeaked, nearly dropping her bow.
Mrs. Hastings stared at her, then her eyes flew to the target on one end of the ballroom.
“Mother, are you all right?” Roland crossed the room, his brow dipped in concern.
Mrs. Hastings waved off her son, her eyes flashing dangerously. “What,” she said, her tone sharp as a cat’s claws, “is happening here?”
Roland cleared his throat. “I thought this might be a diverting way to spend the rainy day,” he said before Cassie could speak. “I set it up, and Miss Bell happened upon me. I invited her to join me.”
Cassie felt as if an evergreen tree had fallen across her chest. She clutched her bow in both hands and focused on breathing. He was taking the blame for her. She tried not to think of the risk to her reputation—to Vivian’s reputation. The two of them alone for hours. Again. What had Cassie been thinking?
“Miss Bell would do well to think twice before accepting such an offer in the future.” Mrs. Hastings’s eyes narrowed. She did not believe them, that much was obvious. But what could she do? She did not like Cassie. She would hardly demand Roland march her down the aisle when there were no other witnesses to their breach in conduct.
“It was only an accident, Mother,” Roland said.
“I am very sorry for the fright I gave you, Mrs. Hastings,” Cassie quickly added.
Mrs. Hastings drew herself up to her full height. “Dinner is soon. I suggest, Miss Bell, you go upstairs to dress, or you’ll be late.”
“O-of course,” Cassie stammered. She nearly scurried out into the corridor before remembering she still held the bow. She turned back. Roland was already stepping forward, arm outstretched to take it from her.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, so his mother could not hear. “I will try to clear this up.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I did not mean to cause any trouble.”
One side of his lips curved up into a wicked grin. “And here I thought you liked a bit of trouble.”
Cassie could not help the tiniest smile in return. He did not seem overly concerned. Perhaps he could set this all to rights. She bobbed a curtsy to both him and Mrs. Hastings and tried not to run as she left the ballroom.
Chapter Ten
Roland watched Miss Bell leave the ballroom, her footsteps echoing in the quiet she left behind. There had been such panic in her eyes when he’d taken the bow from her. He wished he could have said more to reassure her, but with his mother present, he could not manage more than a few whispered words.
“Roland.”
He faced his mother, who scrutinized him with very real worry.
“What were you thinking, being alone with that girl?” she asked. “Anyone might have happened upon you, and then what?”
He ignored her insinuation, though his stomach flipped at the thought. Couples had been forced to marry for far less. Yet he could not quite convince himself that would be so terrible a thing. With Miss Bell, at least.
“You mustn’t blame Miss Bell,” he said instead. “I take full responsibility. And besides, I thought you would be glad to find me spending time with our guests.”
Mother huffed. “Yes, perhaps I would have been a week ago.”
“And what has changed? Did you not invite her for this very reason?”
She paced to the nearby window and looked out over the dreary, rain-soaked landscape. “I did, but now I am doubting my own judgment in regards to Miss Bell’s suitability.”
“Because of the incident with the painting?”
Mother turned sharply. “No. Well, not entirely. That, of course, did not endear her to me, but since then everything I have seen has only given me more qualms. She has acted more like her unruly sister than the proper miss I knew her to be in London, and I cannot account for it.”
“Have you not thought to consider that is why I like her now?” he said. “I met her in London as well, if you’ll remember.”
Mother eyed him, as if fully understanding how careful she must be. They were at odds; they both knew that.
“I believe you think you like her,” she said. “And I admit she is not the worst sort of girl you could marry. She is pretty enough, and from a good family. But she is not accomplished or poised or any of the things you need in a wife.” She paused. “She is not the woman your father imagined for you.”
Roland stepped back, jaw tight. Of course she would bring Father into this. “Not the woman Father imagined, or not who you imagined? Because if I remember correctly, he did not make me promise to marry a woman you approved of. He only wan
ted me to marry.”
“Yes, but he hadn’t any idea who you would set your sights on.”
Roland shook his head. “You do not know the first thing about Miss Bell.”
“And you know her so well?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “I do. And since we’ve a week left to this party, I plan to use it as you intended: to see if Miss Bell is the woman I could spend the rest of my days with.”
He strode past her and escaped to his study, where he could be assured of a few moments of peace before dinner. He paced before the window, the raindrops leaving wistful trails as they tumbled down the glass.
Why was Mother so against Miss Bell? Yes, the young lady had slighted her painting, but she had done everything in her power to win back his mother’s approval. She had searched for the blasted cat, performed a song when she clearly had not wanted to, and been all that was kind and helpful. But Mother had seen none of that—only Miss Bell’s apparent mistakes.
Roland wouldn’t stand for it anymore. Not when he knew Miss Bell’s—Vivian’s—true nature. That she was thoughtful and interesting and intelligent, and that she only wanted to please.
And she was beautiful. He could not deny it. He leaned his shoulder on the windowsill, lost for a moment in the memory of those alluring blue eyes, her golden curls tumbling about her neck as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He’d always thought Miss Bell pretty. But having come to know her better in the last week . . . Her character had become her beauty, more so than any dress, jewels, or rouge ever could.
He’d begun this house party so reluctantly that he could not believe he had reached this point.
That he could almost admit to having fallen in love.
* * *
Once Cassie made it to her room, she dropped onto her bed, her body overcome. The entire afternoon with Roland flashed through her mind—their conversation and teasing, his tempting nearness, and how little control she had over herself whenever she was around him. She hugged a pillow to her chest, trying to keep the heat there at bay, certain it would start a fire if she let it escape. What Roland made her feel, and the person she became when she was with him—she wasn’t Cassie or Vivian. She was someone else, someone new. And she liked that someone.
Almost as much as she liked Roland.
Cassie groaned and buried her face in the pillow. The truth she’d been attempting to hide for days now stared down at her, like the hot sun in mid-July. What she felt toward Roland was not brotherly affection or friendly camaraderie. If she knew any better, if she’d had any experience whatsoever, she would even come close to calling it . . . well, love.
But she couldn’t love Roland. It was impossible. Vivian was in love with Roland Hastings, and Cassie was just a poor substitute. She was not at all what such a man needed in a wife. He needed someone to help him further his connections, move upwards in society. Vivian would do that a thousand times better than Cassie ever could.
But that was beside the point. No matter what Cassie had imagined between her and Roland, it could never come to pass. She would never betray her sister, not when Vivian deserved every happiness, especially this one she’d long set her heart after.
And Roland . . . If the intensity in his eyes when he looked at Cassie was any indicator, then he felt something for her in return.
But the person he thought her to be did not exist.
Cassie managed her breathing, her head formulating a plan even as her heart struggled in vain to stop it. Vivian would be well in a day or two. Until then, Cassie would play a new part. The path she had been walking had proven too perilous. Now she would be careful. She could not avoid him completely, but neither would she seek him out or send him notes or exchange secret smiles with him.
That was for Vivian to do.
Cassie set her jaw. This was the right decision, for her, for Vivian, for Roland. She knew that. But the ache in her chest refused to dissipate, and she closed her eyes against the hot tears that fought to be free.
Chapter Eleven
Miss Bell was avoiding him.
Roland could easily tell, though she still smiled and conversed with the others that night after dinner as she always had. But when she looked at him, it was as though her eyes did not quite see him. Like he’d become an uninteresting painting on the wall or a statue gathering dust in the corner.
Had Miss Bell seen the risk they’d taken in the ballroom, and was she afraid to repeat it? Had her feelings changed? Or perhaps had the looming figure of his mother daunted her more than he’d realized?
The last was the likeliest. Mother was an intimidating figure even when one was not already in her black books. Roland wanted nothing more than to take Miss Bell aside and make her listen to him. She had to know that he did not care what his mother thought of her and that he only wished for her to be herself, forever and always.
But he did not want to push her. If she needed time, he would be patient.
When he awoke in the morning, the drizzle of rain had turned to spiraling white flakes that fell lazily to the earth, covering the grounds in a layer of snow. Mother was all enthusiasm, and she planned an entire day of snow-related activities: sleigh rides to the pond, ice skating, and hot tea when they returned.
Roland felt a lift in his heart. Snow was hopeful. Snow was renewing. And surely sometime in all the busyness, he would find a chance to pull Miss Bell aside and speak to her.
He waited at the base of the stairs as the party gathered in the entryway, all abuzz over the snow and the festivities. Miss Tindale found his side and chattered away, though he could hardly say what she spoke about. His responses were meager at best, and though he was sure he was being rude, he could not take his eyes from the top of the stairs.
But Miss Bell did not appear.
“Are we ready?” Mother adjusted the cloak around her shoulders. “Come then, the sleighs are waiting.”
Miss Tindale looked up at Roland, no doubt expecting him to offer his arm. But he only stepped quickly to his mother’s side, taking her arm before she could follow Mr. and Mrs. Marsden outside.
“What of Miss Bell?” he asked. “Are we not to wait for her?”
“She said she wishes to spend the day with her sister, who has been dreadfully lonely.” Mother looked far too smug about her news.
“And I am sure you did nothing to discourage her,” Roland muttered.
“What, dear?”
Roland sighed. “I only asked after Miss Cassandra. Is she nearly recovered?”
Mother nodded. “Yes, the doctor was by again today. He says she’ll be able to join us tomorrow.”
How strange that would be, to have Miss Bell’s identical sister at her side. Not to mention, it would be even harder to catch her alone.
Miss Tindale huffed as she moved past him and out the open door.
“You have other guests besides Miss Bell,” Mother said shortly. “You would do well to act as if you remember.”
She swept after Miss Tindale, and Roland rubbed his neck. What a mess this was. How could he give Miss Tindale or Miss Marsden the attention they expected when he knew his heart was taking another path entirely?
He could be kind, at the least. Polite, but nothing more.
Roland glanced up the stairs one more time, as if Miss Bell might suddenly appear, her lips quirked in that inviting half smile. But no one came. He took his hat from the footman and set it firmly on his head, determination growing inside him.
Miss Bell could try and avoid him, but he wouldn’t let her. One way or another, he would find a way to see her.
* * *
Cassie crossed her arms as she stared out the window, the twirling snow barely visible in the growing darkness. She’d watched the party return from their winter escapades not an hour ago, laughing and invigorated. In the twilight, she hadn’t managed to pick Roland apart from the rest. Was he also laughing? Had he missed her today?
“Are you planning to dress for dinner soon?”
Viv
ian’s voice stirred Cassie from her contemplation. She turned to her sister, wrapped in a blanket and seated beside the fire.
“No, I thought we could eat together, if you’d like.” Cassie took the chair beside Vivian. She had not the energy for dinner, not when she knew their charade was at an end. Dr. Duttle had come that morning, and he’d delivered the good news that Vivian had made a full recovery. Starting tomorrow, she was free to rejoin the party.
Cassie’s end of the agreement was fulfilled. She had played Vivian as best she could, and now her sister could return to her place come morning. There was no point in going to dinner tonight.
It would only hurt Cassie more.
Vivian eyed her curiously. “Are you so weary of pretending to be me that you prefer even more solitude after an entire day together?”
“Yes,” Cassie insisted. “Not only am I quite finished with this deception, but it has been too long since we spent any significant time together. And when you join the party tomorrow, I’ll lose you once again.”
Vivian reached over and took her hand. “You won’t lose me, Cassie.”
Cassie shook her head. “But I will. Or, at least, I’ll lose what we have now. When you marry Mr. Hastings”—she nearly choked on the words—“things will never be the same. And I understand that is the way of life, but does that mean I cannot mourn the change?”
Vivian squeezed her hand, a soft smile claiming her face. “I do not think I deserve to have you as a sister. I have been so focused on my future, on my own plans, that I think I have neglected you. But I shall try harder to show you I love you, no matter what may come. You have done so much for me.”
What had she done for Vivian, really? Made a mess of her reputation, abandoned her to spend time alone with Roland, and spun a web of lies.
“In any case,” Cassie said, clearing her throat. “Let us spend the evening together without thoughts or worries for tomorrow. Just like we used to.”
“Another round of backgammon, then?” Vivian suggested with a grin. “We are caught in a tie, and I should like to beat you soundly.”
A Christmas Promise Page 7