by Stella Riley
‘We have only been acquainted for a matter of weeks. I thought you might consider a proposal of marriage … premature.’
‘I see. And does Cassie know about this?’
‘Yes. If she wasn’t prepared to consider me, I didn’t want to waste your time. So I thought it best to ask her.’
‘You appear,’ remarked Sir Charles mildly, ‘to have done a great deal of thinking.’
‘I needed to give myself the best chance,’ admitted Sebastian wryly. ‘I know that, strictly speaking, this isn’t the proper way of going about things but --’
‘You may stop apologising, Sebastian. I am not objecting. I’m just surprised – though perhaps I shouldn’t be. Cassie usually spares me the need for the conversation you and I are about to have.’ Charles looked directly into slightly baffled blue eyes and added, ‘Your wits don’t appear to be fully functional this morning. I’m saying that you are the first gentleman she’s ever sent to me. And that means I have to take you seriously.’
That sounded promising. Sebastian said cautiously, ‘Thank you, sir. I realise you’ll have questions – mostly about my circumstances. And naturally --’
This time Sir Charles lifted one hand to stem the flow.
‘We’ll come to your circumstances presently. For now, I only want to know why.’
‘Why?’ echoed Sebastian blankly.
‘Why do you want to marry Cassie?’ asked Charles with patient amusement.
There was a brief pause while Sebastian tried to get a better grip on his faculties.
‘I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t realise there’s only one thing that could have brought me here.’ And spreading helplessly expressive hands, ‘I love her.’
‘I see. And how does Cassie feel?’
Sebastian felt himself flush. ‘You will have to ask her, sir. I wasn’t brave enough. All I’m sure of is that she likes me well enough to allow me to approach you.’
‘So I see.’ Charles rose to pull the bell. ‘And that being so, there is clearly some point in discussing other details – which will require coffee.’ The footman arrived and left again. ‘We can dispense with the things I already know. I am acquainted with your father, though it is some years since we met. I’m aware that the Audley name is an ancient and distinguished one and that you are heir to a well-maintained and prosperous estate; that all but one of your sisters are married and that, upon the demise of your father, you will be a relatively wealthy man.’ Steepling his fingers, he surveyed Sebastian over the top of them. ‘On the other side of the coin, I also know as much as I would wish to about your various excesses. By and large, I’m inclined to make allowances – though it is my opinion that you went too far and for too long – but I’m aware that most of the blame for that lies at Lord Wingham’s door. You told me you’d turned over a new leaf. What I want to hear now is your categorical assurance of it lasting.’
‘You have it. My ‘excesses’ palled quite some time ago and I returned to England in the hope of living them down – which I believe I’m now doing.’
‘And the wager with Lord Sarre?’
For the first time since he’d walked into the room, Sebastian smiled.
‘That was Adrian’s idea – and it was designed to provide me with an easy way of refusing the worst challenges.’
The footman tapped at the door, entered and placed his tray upon a table. Charles waited until the door closed again and said sardonically, ‘Easier than saying no?’
‘Yes. The younger men don’t give up, you see. As to the wager itself … since it’s served its turn, I’m perfectly content for Adrian to win it.’
Charles poured coffee for them both.
‘So I need not worry about unfortunate developments?’
‘No,’ began Sebastian. Then, suppressing a groan, ‘Yes. A couple of days ago, something unpleasant appeared in one of the scandal sheets.’
‘How unpleasant?’
‘Very. It was a tissue of lies and if I had to prove that, I could. Fortunately, his Grace of Rockliffe has kindly undertaken to have the publication informed of its mistake in a way that should prevent anything of the kind happening again.’
Sir Charles gave a small snort that might have been amusement but said merely, ‘If Rock is prepared to stand behind you, I’d say you have little to worry about. However … let us now move along to your financial circumstances – unless you’d rather I had that particular conversation with your father?’
‘No, sir – I wouldn’t. Neither would it tell you what you need to know.’
‘It wouldn’t?’
‘No.’ This was the part Sebastian had been looking forward to least. Drawing a long breath, he said, ‘Throughout my years at university, Father controlled my life by means of the purse-strings. Since I was determined to prevent that continuing, I studied Law because it offered a means of earning my own living – though as things turned out it was never necessary because my Great-Aunt left me a moderate legacy. It provides me with sufficient income to live comfortably, though not extravagantly. I don’t gamble beyond my means; I don’t have debts; and I don’t live off my expectations. But …’
He stopped and Charles said gently, ‘Yes?’
‘But as things stand, I can’t afford to lease a house in town or support Cassandra in the way I – or you – would wish.’
This time the silence was a long one.
‘Let us be quite clear about this,’ said Charles at length, his tone noticeably cooler. ‘Are you saying that Lord Wingham does not make you an allowance? That he does not, in fact, support you in any way and has never done so since you left Cambridge?’
‘That’s about the size of it, yes – but it was my choice. I wanted my independence and didn’t know how else to ensure it. Now it’s been going for so long, I doubt if Father actually remembers I don’t cost him a penny.’
Sir Charles stood up.
‘If you hope to marry my daughter, I suggest you remind him.’
‘Sir, it isn’t that simple,’ said Sebastian tightly.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No. Oh – Father would be delighted to see me married and even more delighted if my bride was Cassandra, I’m sure. But the London house was disposed of after my youngest sister was married; and knowing that I would spend part of each year in Town, Father might choose not to replace it if that meant he could keep me chained to Audley Court.’
‘I see.’ Sighing, Charles resumed his seat. ‘You’re concerned that having constrained you in that way once, he may try to do it again.’
‘Yes. It isn’t that I don’t want to spend sufficient time at the Court to learn everything I’ll need to know – but I can’t give my whole life to it yet. And I certainly wouldn’t allow my wife to be subjected to it.’ Sebastian paused, raking a hand through his hair and then regretting it. ‘I may be doing Father an injustice, of course. He’s finally admitted he made mistakes and perhaps he’s also learned from them. But I can’t assume that. And it would be wrong of me to hide the possibility.’
‘Dear me. You certainly come imbued with complications, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ came the bitter reply. ‘This is where you’re supposed to show me the door.’
‘That is certainly one course of action. It’s possible, however, that Cassie may have something to say about that.’
Sebastian allowed himself a small flicker of hope. ‘Perhaps.’
‘I suggest, therefore, that you leave the matter of Lord Wingham to me. I shall write to him, explaining that I will permit you to ask for my daughter’s hand when he fulfils two conditions. First, that he provides you with an allowance suitable for a married man; and second, that he uses the money he has saved these last seven years to purchase a house in a good part of town, the choice of which he leaves to you. What do you think?’
That Cassandra’s father might offer to help had never occurred to Sebastian. He said unevenly, ‘Sir … if you are willing to do that … well, it’
s more than I’d ever expected. To be truthful, I didn’t think I stood a chance. And with most fathers, I don’t believe I would have.’
Charles stood up again and held out his hand, smiling a little.
‘You’re not out of the woods yet, Sebastian. I’ll write to your father once I’ve ascertained Cassie’s feelings – though I see no need to explain your pecuniary difficulties to her at this stage. And since my wife will want to judge your merits for herself, you’d better dine with us this evening. For the rest, don’t be too grateful. I’m not going to pretend that besting Lord Wingham won’t have its enjoyable side.’
* * *
After a long conversation with her husband, Serena Delahaye had an even lengthier one with Cassie. Then, satisfied that Mr Audley appeared to be behaving with propriety and also that, although she hadn’t actually said so, Cassie was clearly head over heels in love with the man, she took the precaution of arranging for Olivia to spend the evening with a party of other young girls under the aegis of Lady Barclay. It would be a great deal easier, Serena decided, to evaluate what exactly was going on between Cassie and Mr Audley without Olivia goggling at him across the table and asking endless unsuitable questions; and aside from all that, Olivia’s constant pleas to be allowed to attend Mr Sheridan’s new play the following evening were becoming decidedly tedious.
Olivia was at first delighted and then, catching sight of Cassie’s embroidered aquamarine silk, deeply suspicious. She said, ‘You’re dressed very fine.’
‘This?’ Cassie eyed her reflection consideringly. ‘I’ve worn it before.’
‘Maybe so – but not for dinner at home.’
‘As usual, you’re making too much of it.’ She sat down to allow Susan to finish pinning up her hair. ‘And you’re looking very nice yourself. That shade of pink suits you. I expect Margot will be quite jealous.’
Invoking the rivalry between Livy and her best friend never failed.
‘Hah!’ grinned Olivia, preparing to sweep from the room. ‘That is the plan.’
Once Olivia was en route to her party, Cassie felt it safe to go downstairs. Sitting still once she got there, however, proved to be impossible. She prowled restlessly around the drawing room until her mother said, ‘Does Mr Audley know he has this effect?’
‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’ Cassie gazed back despairingly. ‘Mama … why is it suddenly so difficult to be sensible?’
‘I suspect you know the answer to that.’ And tilting her head, ‘I also suspect that he has arrived … with unprecedented punctuality, too.’
Sebastian entered the room with her father and Cassie felt the now-familiar tightening in her chest. Tonight, he wore the bronze brocade she’d seen once before and, as usual, he looked impossibly handsome. But it was the expression in his eyes when he greeted her that melted something low in her body and made her aware that not being sensible was suddenly eminently desirable.
Lady Delahaye welcomed him with her usual calm smile; Sir Charles poured sherry; and Sebastian found himself sitting no more than a foot away from Cassandra on a satin-and-gilt sofa while his host and hostess encouraged him to describe his travels. Gradually, he became aware that she was leaning towards him, hanging on every word. After talking at some length about Bohemia and Hungary, he slanted a smile at her saying, ‘And as you’re aware – despite rumours to the contrary – I went to St Petersburg to play chess.’
‘Chess?’ Charles’s eyes brightened. ‘You played chess in Russia?’
‘Oh dear,’ murmured Serena. ‘This would seem a good moment to go in to dinner – otherwise we may all starve. You may give me your arm, Mr Audley.’
He rose, bowed and said, ‘Would suggesting you use my given name be premature?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ she retorted pleasantly. ‘Would it?’
And watching as laughter flared enticingly in those extraordinarily blue eyes thought, Oh Cassie. You never had a chance, did you?
Precisely as Serena had expected, mention of chess and Russia dictated the course of much of the conversation during dinner. At some point over turbot in cream, Charles said, ‘You learned the Makarovsky stratagem from the man who invented it?’
Sebastian nodded. ‘Obviously, you play yourself – and seriously, if you’ve heard of him.’
‘I’m a member of Parsloe’s Chess Club – as is Jack Ingram – though whether either of us are up to your standards is debatable.’
‘I had no idea there was a chess club in London.’
‘It’s relatively new and is limited to a hundred members. I’ll propose you, if you wish. Meanwhile, we can arrange a game. Tomorrow evening, perhaps?’
‘Tomorrow evening,’ interposed Serena, ‘is the opening night of Mr Sheridan’s new play so we will be spending it at Drury Lane. We are sharing the Cavendish box and I imagine that, like Cassie, Mr Audley is similarly engaged with Nell Caversham’s party.’ She raised enquiring brows at Sebastian. ‘Am I right?’
‘Her ladyship was kind enough to invite me,’ he agreed.
‘So … chess will have to wait.’ She rose and beckoned Cassie. ‘Time to leave the gentlemen to their port, I think.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Charles, ‘we might either forgo the port for this evening – or take it in the drawing-room. What do you say, Sebastian?’
‘Whatever suits you and her ladyship best, sir.’ Dragging his eyes away from Cassie, he added, ‘For myself, I’m happy to drink tea with the ladies.’
‘Yes. I thought you might be. Take him away, Cassie – and ring for the tea-tray. Your Mama and I will be with you directly.’
Serena frowned. ‘Now, Charles --’
‘Five minutes, Rena. He can’t get up to much in that time – even supposing Cassie would let him.’ He waved them away. ‘Off with you.’
The second they were outside the door, Sebastian removed Cassie’s hand from his arm and linked his fingers with hers. ‘Five minutes? Your father has forgotten a few things.’
‘What do you --?’
The question died unspoken as he whisked her into the drawing-room, drew her down on the sofa they’d occupied earlier and raised her hand to his lips. Then smiling into her eyes, he turned her palm upwards and pressed a warm, slow kiss in the centre of it. Cassie gave a tiny startled gasp.
‘You have lovely hands,’ he murmured turning the one he held captive again in order to salute her knuckles. ‘Have you ever imagined the things you might do with them?’
She hadn’t – not really. But the suggestive note in his voice had her imagining sliding them over bare skin. His skin. His tongue slid just a little way between each of her fingers, causing heat to blossom in surprising places. She said unevenly, ‘You – you ought not to be doing that.’
He flicked a sultry glance up beneath his lashes. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘I – well, yes.’
‘Good. So do I.’ Uncurling her hand, he took the tip of her index finger into his mouth and lightly bit it before stroking it with his tongue. ‘Mm. Strawberries, again.’
‘Wh-what?’
‘Strawberries.’ He lifted his head, his eyes resting on her parted lips with an intensity as potent as a kiss. ‘Your mouth tastes of strawberries too. I remember it distinctly. But I suppose you’ll forbid me to sample that just now?’
Not sure that her voice would work properly, Cassie managed to nod.
He sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. But it’s a tremendous pity. And if you’re going to look at me like that, you can’t blame me for trying.’
* * *
The Cavendish box being next to Rockliffe’s, both parties migrated to and fro before the play began. The upper gallery was filling up fast and the pit was already heaving with people. A small hiatus was caused when Lord Nicholas strolled in, thus causing an argument with his sister because he hadn’t been invited.
Cassie and Sebastian meanwhile, had taken possession of adjacent chairs and were ostensibly studying the playbill. In fact, Sebastian was
flirting so outrageously that she was in fits of laughter.
‘Stop it – now, before Nell asks what is so funny.’
He grinned at her. ‘Be grateful. If I said what I’m really thinking you’d be blushing like a peony and that would be a lot harder to explain.’
She shook her head reprovingly. ‘You are being deliberately wicked.’
‘I know,’ he agreed. And then, differently, ‘But you like me, don’t you? Just a little bit?’
The note of appeal in his voice was reflected in his eyes. Something inside Cassie’s silver-grey bodice splintered into a hundred pieces. She thought, Oh Sebastian. How can you not know? But said softly, ‘Yes. Just … a little bit.’ And knew from the sudden change in his expression that he had understood.
Having dealt with her annoying brother by informing him that he was welcome to stay if he didn’t mind standing, Lady Elinor sat beside Cassie and looked round to see who was settling into the other boxes.
‘I don’t believe there’s a seat to be had,’ she remarked. And then, ‘Good heavens, Cassie – it’s that woman from Vauxhall.’
‘Where?’ demanded Sebastian quickly.
‘In Lord Keswick’s box. Don’t look now – she’s actually bowing to me, the encroaching creature! To the right, third box from the stage. With Mr Penhaligon and some others.’
At which point, with perfect timing, the curtain rose on The School for Scandal.
In the wake of his recent brush with The Whisperer, Sebastian saw the irony in sitting down to watch a comedy based largely around the use of rumour and innuendo to destroy reputations. He was also acutely aware that, while Lady Sneerwell was hatching her plots onstage, her real-life counterpart was probably storing up tips for future use. Overall, however, he decided that Miranda’s presence wasn’t so surprising; all the world and his wife were crammed into the Theatre Royal tonight. He did, however, wonder how well she knew Richard Penhaligon and whether the question merited further investigation.
During the intervals, visitors came and went. Discussion revolved around the excellence of the play, Mr Sheridan’s recent purchase of the theatre from David Garrick and, inevitably, speculations on poor Mr Garrick’s health – he not having been seen on-stage for some considerable time. Mr Audley paid his respects to Dolly Cavendish, exchanged polite courtesies with Sir Charles and Lady Delahaye and offered Mr Ingram a game of chess. Then he settled down to concentrate on the performance only to be distracted this time by Cassie’s glowing face and delicious gurgles of laughter. His mind wandered again and he found himself silently praying that his father would see reason.
