Lucy laughed. “Cass, you’re forgetting that your parents are decidedly unhappy with my family at present. It’s perfect timing, actually. And didn’t you send your mother a letter?”
“Yes. I informed her that I am staying with you in town for the next week.”
“Settled, then.”
Cass bit her lip. “Only if my parents remain safely over at their estate.”
“I anticipate no problems,” Lucy replied with a smile, pulling on her gloves as they approached the front of the manor house.
Cass sighed. Of course Lucy was convinced everything would be quite all right. Cass, however, lived in constant fear that her mother would arrive, tell Julian everything, and demand her daughter return home instantly. Her mother had never cared much for her daughter’s infatuation with Julian, and it had little to do with the fact that he was marked for her cousin. “He’s a second son, Cassandra. He might be good enough for Penelope, but we didn’t raise you to marry a second son.”
That was just it. Her parents had raised her to marry a man with a title, an illustrious title, the more illustrious the better. The only reason they hadn’t completely disowned her for turning down a duke was the fact that somewhere in the back of her mother’s mind, she was probably thinking that Cass might marry a duke with a family name that went back centuries and that would be an even better catch than the newly minted Claringdon. That’s all she was to her mother, a pawn to be played in the great game of the ton’s marriage mart.
When Lucy’s coach finally pulled to a stop at the entrance to the estate, the butler and housekeeper were there to greet them with a bow and a curtsy.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said as she ushered them into the foyer of the manor house. “The servants, we’ve all been aflurry preparing for the party. Everything is arranged.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Prism,” Lucy responded, allowing the butler to take her hat and cloak and waiting for Cass to hand over the same. “But you must remember you cannot refer to me as ‘Your Grace’ during the party. And this is Miss Bunbury.” She gestured to Cass.
“Of course. Of course.” The housekeeper chuckled. The butler had a twinkle in his eyes. They continued into the house. It smelled exactly as Cass remembered it from childhood, a mixture of lemon wax and silver polish. The bustling of the servants and the smiles on everyone’s faces bolstered Cass’s confidence. As the day progressed, Cass noticed that true to Lucy’s word, all of the servants appeared to be completely at ease with calling their mistress Lady Worthing and pretending Cass was named Patience Bunbury. In fact, they’d already begun. It was quite ludicrous, actually, but Cass had to smile at the willingness of the earl’s servants to participate in their mistress’s foibles. They did appear to be completely devoted to Lucy.
When the butler stopped by to get Lucy’s approval on the wines to be served with the first dinner, she answered, “Thank you, Merriman.”
“My pleasure, Lady Worthing.” He bowed before taking his leave.
“Leave it to you to orchestrate such madness, Lucy,” Cass said with a laugh.
“They think it’s a lark, dear. There’s no reason this shouldn’t be fun.”
“I see.” Cass pressed a hand to her belly. Perhaps it would be all right after all. Perhaps.
“The servants have done an outstanding job. All we have to do is see to the finishing touches. Come along.” Lucy turned in a swirl of yellow skirts.
Cass spent the rest of the day following her friend through the cavernous rooms as they made the last-minute plans for the house party’s amusements. Mrs. Prism tracked them with a quill and parchment to scribble down their requests.
“I sent word to Captain Swift letting him know that the house party doesn’t officially begin until Saturday,” Lucy said as they entered one of the drawing rooms.
“What did you say about Pen?” Cass asked.
“I told him that Penelope had been confused as to the start of the thing, hence her leaving London too early. I managed to secure us a few days before Julian appears.” Lucy smiled.
“Yes, but you put us in the position of having to immediately explain to him upon his arrival why Penelope is not here when she left for the house party several days earlier,” Cass replied.
“Leave it all to me,” Lucy said with a simple, confident flick of her wrist.
“You do not have a magic wand, do you?” Cass asked, glancing about under the furniture as if the said wand might be found.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “No, I have a quick tongue, and that is even more useful. Magic wands can be stolen, dear.”
Cass shook her head but couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s antics. That was it. If she was going to pretend, she might as well pretend on a grand scale. How many times had she thought, what she wouldn’t give to have a small bit of Lucy’s courage and confidence for a day? Just one day. Though she wouldn’t say no to that magic wand, either.
But this was Cass’s chance, her one chance. She was courageous. She was confident. She was Patience Bunbury! She nodded resolutely and turned to face her friend.
Lucy spread her arms wide, indicating the entire back half of the drawing room. “And here is where we shall play cards after dinner,” she said, turning in a circle and clapping her hands together once. “Of course I shall seat you next to Captain Swift at every opportunity.”
Cass turned in a circle, too. “Seems you’ve thought of everything.”
Lucy nodded. “Of course I have.”
Cass made her way over to the wall and traced a finger along the edge of a portrait hanging there. “Is Jane coming?”
“Absolutely. She says this is one Society event she’s actually looking forward to. In fact, Jane is one of only a few guests I’ve invited. She’s never met Captain Swift, which, of course, is of the utmost importance.”
“When did you plan all of this?” Cass asked, shaking her head.
Lucy grinned. “I was in a flurry of writing letters two nights ago after we spoke with Captain Swift.”
“Who else did you invite? Garrett?” Cass asked, referring to their fourth good friend, Lucy’s first cousin, Garrett Upton. Garrett lived nearby as well. He and his cousin were fast friends and the three of them had grown up together, riding horses and playing games across the neighboring estates.
Lucy’s only brother had died of fever when he was a child. So Garrett, her father’s only brother’s son, stood to inherit Lucy’s father’s earldom because his own father was dead. In fact, Cass suspected that now that she was without the prospect of a husband again, her own parents had turned their marriage-minded gazes toward Garrett Upton. Garrett, of course, was nothing more than a friend to Cass, but because the Upbridge estate bordered the Morelands’ estate, Cass’s father had mentioned upon more than one occasion how much he liked the idea of uniting the two families in land and matrimony.
Lucy turned to face Cass and pursed her lips. “No, ah, not exactly.”
“Not exactly? What do you mean?”
“With Garrett it’s a bit … complicated.”
Cass narrowed her eyes on her friend. “Why?”
Lucy flourished a hand in the air. “Oh, you know Garrett. Always wanting to do the right thing and tell the truth, et cetera, et cetera. I’ve told him I’m a bit indisposed.” She lowered her voice so Mrs. Prism wouldn’t hear. “He thinks I’m with child and stopped asking questions. It’s perfect. I doubt he’ll come looking for me.”
Cass’s mouth dropped open. “Lucy! You didn’t allow him to think that.”
“Yes. I did.” She winked at Cass. “What? It’s the perfect excuse.”
“You’re completely incorrigible.”
Lucy blinked. “You say that as if I don’t already know it.” Then she turned her attention to the housekeeper. “We’ll meet you in the pantries in ten minutes, Mrs. Prism.”
Mrs. Prism nodded and left the room while Cass made her way over and plopped down on the sofa. She pulled a
throw pillow onto her lap and hugged it tightly against her middle. “Who else will be coming to the house party?”
Lucy tapped her finger against her cheek. “I invited Lord Berkeley.”
“Lord Berkeley?”
“Yes, Berkeley.”
Lord Berkeley was one of Garrett’s old friends from school. He was a viscount who lived in the north and rarely came down to town. The friends had met him in Bath last summer where he’d unsuccessfully attempted to court Lucy. Apparently, Lucy had remained on good terms with the viscount.
“How did you manage to convince Lord Berkeley to come down for this?” Cass asked.
“I simply informed him that he owes me a favor after shamelessly pretending to write me beautiful letters last summer.”
Cass’s jaw dropped open. “You did not say that to him, Lucy!”
“I most certainly did. He agreed wholeheartedly and sent his acceptance immediately. And the best part is, he has never met Captain Swift, either.”
Cass pulled up the pillow to her chin. “Nothing you do should surprise me but it does.”
Lucy had wandered over to the far side of the room where she was inspecting some apples in a bowl. She turned back to Cass and called, “Oh, Patience.”
Cass didn’t move. She remained staring blindly into the crackling fireplace.
“Patience!” Lucy said more loudly, slapping her slipper against the marble floor.
This time Cass turned her head. “Yes.”
Lucy put both hands on her hips. “That was a drill. You must get used to responding to that name.”
“Oh, Lucy. What am I going to do? I cannot speak to Julian as if I don’t know him. What if I slip and say something only Cass would know?” Cass said, allowing the pillow to fall back into her lap.
Lucy turned over one of the apples and then stared at it as if its precise placement was of the utmost importance. “Hmm. I suggest you keep quiet if you think you might be tempted to do that.”
“What if Jane or Lord Berkeley mistakenly call me Lady Cassandra?”
“Pretend as if you didn’t hear them and give them a stern look.”
“What if Garrett or Owen or my parents arrive?” Cass asked.
“Garrett’s not going to arrive and why would your brother have any reason to come here? He rarely leaves London.”
“What if—? What if—” Cass glanced around as if searching for another reason to worry.
“What if your head falls off?” Lucy supplied. “Is that what you’re going to say? I swear, Cass, there’s no need to worry. I expect this week to be enormously successful. You should, too.”
“But that’s just it, Lucy. I don’t see how it can be successful. What can we possibly hope to accomplish here?” Cass bent over and rested her forehead on the pillow in her lap.
Lucy made her way back over to the settee, sat next to her friend, and hugged her, pulling her close with her arm around her shoulders. “Why, we’re going to give Julian the opportunity to know you, Cass. See you, speak with you, be alone with you. He can’t possibly wish to marry Penelope, after spending time with you.”
“But they’re betrothed—”
“No they are not. Not explicitly. Not officially. I intend to see that it remains that way. Besides, you seem to forget, your cousin doesn’t appear to be particularly interested in Captain Swift.”
Cass rubbed a hand over her forehead. How was it that Lucy always seemed to make sense when she rebutted Cass’s concerns? “Yes, but—”
“No. Stop it. Think positively. That is the only way this will work. You must promise me you’ll stop worrying.”
Cass groaned and squeezed the pillow. “Oh, it’s all so … so … uncertain.”
Lucy pulled her close again and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Ah, the very essence of romance is uncertainty, dear. Never forget it.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Well, I for one have never heard of Miss Patience Bunbury,” Julian’s younger sister, Daphne, said as she sat across the drawing room from him writing a letter, while he and his mother looked on.
“I can’t say I’ve made her acquaintance, either,” his mother, the countess, added.
A blond curl flew over Daphne’s shoulder as she tossed her head and gave Julian a sly look. “Quite curious if you ask me.”
Julian settled into his chair. “What do you mean, curious?” He’d greatly enjoyed spending these last few days with his mother and Daphne. The two women had been beside themselves with happiness when he came striding through the door. His mother had silently held back tears, her eyes brimming with them, and hugged her second-born, while Daphne had clapped her hands and nearly shrieked with excitement.
It was damn good to see them again. His sister, just a girl when he had gone to war, was now a beautiful, accomplished young woman who he quickly learned was always buzzing about the house doing several things at once. His mother had deeper worry lines in her forehead and a few more wrinkles but she still had the same laughing gray eyes he remembered.
They’d caught up on everything from the less gruesome aspects of Julian’s time at war, to the frivolities of the last London Season, but neither of the women seemed to know what had possessed Donald to go off to the Continent.
“He said he was going to Italy on holiday,” his mother told him. “I don’t know why he would leave in the middle of a war. But you know Donald, always so evasive. Never wanting to worry us. Though now I’m concerned because he’s been gone for months and we’ve yet to receive a letter indicating that he’s arrived safely.”
“I’m certain news will come soon, Mama,” Daphne said. “And besides, Captain Cavendish is with him. He’ll keep Donald safe.”
“Yes, you’re right, dear. Captain Cavendish has been an excellent friend to our family through the years and he’s an excellent soldier.”
Daphne had nodded, but the look she gave Julian made him think she knew more than she was letting on. Especially since she knew Donald was with Rafe. Julian had inclined his head toward his sister, the siblings tacitly agreeing to allow their mother to continue to think Donald was on holiday. But Julian made a mental note to ask Daphne about it later.
Now that he and his mother and sister had had a chance to become reacquainted after all these years, Julian had informed them he was leaving for the countryside and that’s how the subject of Patience Bunbury had come up.
“I just mean that it’s a bit curious that Miss Monroe is off at a house party hosted by a young lady we’ve never heard of,” Daphne said with a shrug, returning her attention to her letter.
“Perhaps you merely never met Miss Bunbury,” Julian suggested.
“Of course I never met her, silly,” Daphne replied, shaking her head. “I just thought I knew nearly everyone and I don’t know her.”
“There’s a first time for everything, dear,” their mother replied. “I’m certain Miss Bunbury is a fine young lady if Miss Monroe has chosen to befriend her.”
Daphne tossed her quill on the desk and turned fully around in her chair to face Julian, her hands braced on her knees. There was a decided twinkle in her eye. “Ooh, speaking of fine young ladies, tell me, have you seen Lady Cassandra Monroe since you’ve returned?”
Julian cleared his throat. “No. I … haven’t. I paid a call to her parents’ town house yesterday only to discover that the family has already retired to the country for the autumn.” At first, Julian had been more than a bit disappointed; however, when he’d learned the address of Lady Worthing’s house party, he’d discovered that it was near Cassandra’s parents’ estate. More good fortune. Once in Surrey, Julian would find Penelope, say what he needed to say, and then he would go to the Monroes’ estate to visit Cassandra.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Daphne answered, a crestfallen look on her face. “Tell me, does she still write to you?”
“Yes, quite often,” Julian said, a lump unexpectedly forming in his throat. What could he say about Cassandra? She was his best fri
end. She’d written him for years. She’d begun soon after he left with the army after her sixteenth birthday. He’d thought it would be nothing more than a simple, friendly correspondence. But it had turned into much more. Cassie didn’t know it, but she had saved his life.
“Nearly every day?” His mother’s eyebrows shot up. “I daresay that’s more often than Daphne and I wrote. Did Penelope write you as much?”
Julian shook his head. “No.” Not even remotely close. He leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers over his chest. Penelope. Over the years, he’d considered resigning himself to their marriage. Penelope had been eighteen when he’d gone off to war. They’d decided to wait until after he returned—if he returned—to make it all official. It hadn’t been fair to Penelope to make her wait all these years. Especially when Julian had had no intention of ever coming back. He was under no illusion that Penelope loved him or even wanted to marry him for that matter. The few letters she’d written to him in all these years had been short and full of inane banter. Nothing true. Nothing real. Nothing like the letters he received from Cassandra. Cassandra’s letters had been heartfelt and honest, full of witticisms and intelligence. She made him smile. She made him laugh out loud, and most of all, she made him feel as if someone in this great big world, someone other than his mother and his sister, really, truly cared if he lived or died. God knew his father never had. He was a useless second son after all. He’d been told that often enough. His father had purchased his commission and handed it over with words he’d never forget.
* * *
Julian knocked on the door to his father’s study. “May I come in?”
His father grunted his assent.
Julian pushed open the door and strode forward. He stopped in front of his father’s massive wooden desk, standing at attention. He stared out the window above his father’s head, his hands clasped behind his back, his new uniform still rough against his skin. He’d get used to the rubbing eventually.
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