But she couldn’t talk to him. She couldn’t let him know she knew. She wasn’t Cassandra Monroe, his good friend and confidant. She was Patience Bunbury, a pretty face, a stranger. She glanced at him again and recognized the faraway look in his eye. He was removed from this place, probably still on a battlefield on the Continent. A part of him would always be there. She understood that.
Jane came floating by, a plate full of teacakes in her possession. How her friend managed to maintain her figure with the amount of teacakes she consumed, Cass would never know. Jane stopped directly in front of Cass, jolting her from her thoughts. “Very well. I’ve been dying to get a look at this man for years. Where is he?”
Cass didn’t need to ask who she meant. Cass and Lucy had been friends with Jane for the last four years and therefore she’d been hearing about Cass’s devotion to Julian all that time.
Cass clasped her hands together and looked down at her fingers. “He’s … he’s over there.” She motioned with her chin. “But don’t be obvious about it when you look,” she squeaked.
To her credit, Jane didn’t move. She nibbled on a teacake. “Why? Is he looking at you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” And then, “Don’t look!”
Jane quickly stole a glance before returning her attention back to Cass … and her teacakes.
“That was ever so stealthy,” Cass told her with a laugh. “You should be a spy for the War Office.”
“I should be a great many things which my sex does not allow me to be.” Jane sighed. She shifted the plate to her opposite hand. “Now. Am I correct in assuming that Captain Swift is the tall, handsome blond fellow standing over by the doors?”
Cass nodded miserably. “Yes.”
Jane popped another bit of cake into her mouth. “Oh, my. I can almost see why you’ve been so smitten.”
Cass widened her eyes. “Why, Janie, I thought you always said there are plenty of men from which to choose and I shouldn’t be so set on any one in particular.”
Jane shrugged. “That is true; however, even I must admit he is a fine specimen of man. You must introduce me to him. In the meantime, I am quite convinced that he should ask you to dance.”
Cass laughed. “I think so, too.”
Janie tilted her head in Julian’s direction. “I suggest you go over and make yourself available for the invitation.”
Cass immediately sobered. “No. I couldn’t.”
“Very well. Introduce me to him and I shall suggest it with all due haste.”
“Oh, no, I—”
“Why not? We’ve little else to do. I daresay things are a bit dull around here without Upton to torment.”
Cass pressed her fingers to her lips. Jane and Garrett had engaged in a merry war of words ever since they met at a performance of Much Ado About Nothing four years ago. Lucy had invited her new friend, Jane, to the theater with her. Her cousin had attended as well. The two had never agreed upon anything, though Lucy always suspected much of their apparent dislike for one another was just for show. Cass did, too. It was sweet, in an odd sort of way, that Janie was obviously missing her verbal spats with Garrett.
But Cass had to admit, she also found herself secretly wishing Garrett was in on their plan. Everything seemed so much more … sane when Garrett was around to temper Lucy’s ludicrous schemes. The fact that Garrett had no part in this particular one made Cass that much more anxious about it.
Be bold. The words streaked through Cass’s brain.
Cass let her gaze trail over to Julian where he stood alone near the doors. He appeared to enjoy watching the other couples dance. Was he thinking of Pen? Cass couldn’t help but wonder. Was he pondering where his future wife was tonight? Was he hoping she would arrive in time to dance with him? Of course Cass knew Pen never would arrive. Guilt tugged at her. She bit her lip.
Be bold. The words flashed across her brain again like lightning in the night sky. Besides, she wasn’t Cassandra Monroe tonight. She was Patience Bunbury. “Very well, Jane. Let’s go.”
Cass picked up the skirts of her silver gown and made her way deliberately toward Julian, Jane and her teacakes in tow.
The distance between them in the ballroom seemed to stretch interminably. One of the other guests stopped her to greet her with a “Miss Bunbury” and a wink. Cass replied with a shaky smile and a nod.
She straightened her shoulders. Being called Miss Bunbury also served another purpose, to strengthen her resolve and bolster her courage. She was Patience, Patience Bunbury, bold attender of parties and shameless seeker of dances with handsome gentlemen. Well, one handsome gentleman in particular.
She and Jane made their way across the room until they stood only a few paces from Julian. Cass cleared her throat and tugged at her glove. Then she reminded herself that Patience Bunbury was most certainly not a glove tugger. She let go and calmly folded her hands in front of her instead. “Captain Swift.”
He swiveled around to face her. Cass caught her breath.
His smile lit up his eyes. “Miss Bunbury.” He stepped toward her, closing the last bit of space between them. He bowed over her hand, lightly touching her palm, his thumb moving across her knuckles in a slow caress that sent a thrill shooting up her arm.
Bold. Bold. Bold.
“May I present my friend—”
“Miss Wollstonecraft,” Jane interrupted, moving in front of Cass and curtsying, teacakes and all.
Cass had to smother her smile. She and Lucy had argued earlier with Jane about her desire to pretend to be someone she was not. “It’ll be better for everyone if only Cass and I have false names,” Lucy had said. “The less complicated the better.”
“I don’t care who it’s better for. Besides, when have you ever worried about anything being complicated?” Jane had countered. “I want a false name, too. I don’t see why you two get to make up new identities and I must be forced to be my same boring self.”
“You’re not boring, Jane,” Cass had replied, patting her friend on the shoulder.
“Oh, you’re sweet, Cass, but the fact is that the most excitement I’ve had in months is this mad house party and I’m not about to allow a perfectly good opportunity to pretend to be someone else go to waste.”
Apparently, Jane refused to be denied.
“Miss Wollstonecraft?” Julian bowed. “You don’t happen to be related to—”
“The famous author? Yes, actually. She is my aunt.”
Cass elbowed her in the ribs and Jane grunted. “This is Captain Julian Swift, Miss … Wollstonecraft,” Cass said.
“A pleasure, Captain,” Jane replied.
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” Julian said.
Jane mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “My word, he is handsome,” just before she inclined her head toward Cass. “Miss Bunbury here was just now telling me how desperately she loves to dance. I was telling her how desperately I love to eat teacake. And to that end, I’m off to find more. Good evening, Captain.”
Jane was gone in an instant and Cass was left startlingly alone with Julian. She began to tug at her glove again and stopped herself. Again.
“Do you enjoy dancing, Captain Swift?” Oh, now he was certain to think Miss Patience Bunbury was the most forward female in the country. An advantage to playacting, she supposed, the hint of a smile creeping across her lips. Lady Cassandra Monroe would never ask a gentleman if he liked to dance, but apparently Patience Bunbury would. It was freeing, actually, and quite bold, thank you very much. She just might be able to get used to this.
One of Julian’s golden eyebrows arched in the barest hint of acknowledgment of her cheekiness. “I do. Or, I used to. I cannot remember the last time I danced, actually. However, I’m not particularly adept at it, I’m afraid.”
“I heard the Duchess of Richmond gave a ball just before Waterloo,” Cass said. “Did you attend?”
He glanced down at his perfectly polished boots. “I did not.”
“Why not?
” She actually knew why not, but Patience Bunbury didn’t. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.
Julian straightened up and cleared his throat. “On the eve of battle, I fear I was not in much of a dancing mood.”
“What were you doing?” Now here was something she didn’t know. But as soon as the words left her mouth, Cass wished she hadn’t spoken them. It was beyond rude of her to ask such a personal question. In addition to being cheeky, apparently Patience Bunbury was also a bit too forthright.
Julian slid his hands into his pockets and looked out across the ballroom as if he was surveying a battlefield. His eyes held a faraway look as if he was remembering that night. “I was writing … to a friend.”
Cass nearly gasped. Stay calm. Breathe normally. Patience Bunbury is not a swooner, either, nor a gasper.
But she couldn’t help herself. She had to ask. “A very close friend?”
“Yes,” he said softly, a smile in his eyes. “A very close friend, indeed.”
“Penelope?” That felonious little shoulder devil had definitely made her ask that.
“No.” He shook his head. “That reminds me. Do you know? Has Penelope arrived yet?”
Cass could nearly kick herself for bringing up Penelope and shattering the sense of intimacy they’d shared for just a moment. Or had that only been in her imagination? Or Patience’s imagination? Oh, this was already far too complicated.
She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Actually, from what I understand, Penelope planned to stop along the way to visit a few friends this time.”
And there it was, her first out-and-out lie. The rest of the lies she’d allowed to rest solely on Lucy’s head. Cass had been happy enough to play along with them, but now, now she was in deep, deep enough to lie directly to Julian. Cass detested herself for lying. She imagined herself telling Julian the truth, ripping away her façade and naming herself, admitting to him that she remembered the letter he’d written her that night. It rested in a shoebox tucked away in a drawer in her wardrobe with all the others, sorted by date and stained with her tears. Tears she’d shed thinking how the Battle of Waterloo just might take Julian’s life. But she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t say a word. She was already trapped in the lie.
“I do hope Penelope arrives soon. I must speak with her,” Julian added.
Cass bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes focused on a spot on the parquet floor behind him. Of course the man wanted to speak with his future wife. No doubt he wanted to get their wedding plans under way immediately. Cass’s heart wrenched. “I’m certain Penelope is looking forward to seeing you, too, Captain Swift.” That was another lie and it was bitter on Cass’s tongue. Pen wasn’t looking forward to it at all. In fact, she’d fled from him. Pen not only didn’t seem interested in marrying Julian, she didn’t even want to see him. She was a coward.
“Seeing as how Miss Monroe is not here, would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Bunbury? I shall do my best not to tread upon your feet.”
Cass looked up at Julian and melted. He’d asked her to dance. This was why she’d come over here, after all. But now that she’d secured the invitation, she was a bit hesitant. Why? Because she was frightened that Julian would look into her eyes and know her? Because she was worried that she’d say something that would give her away? Or because she’d never danced with Julian before and she wished that for their first dance that he would know who she truly was.
“I should like that very much,” she heard herself reply.
He took her hand and led her onto the floor just as a waltz was beginning to play. Thank heaven for the waltz. Lovely dance, that.
It was true. Julian was not exactly, ahem, the best of dancers. She hadn’t quite expected him to be as proficient as, say, the dandies, but the effect was quite the opposite of … graceful. Ah, well. The man was good at many other things. She could easily forgive him this. He’d been at war for seven years, after all, not perfecting his waltz. She swept along in his arms as best she could, gazing up into his eyes, and pretending all the while that he knew she was Cass and they were betrothed. Oh, she knew it was fruitless and cruel to her heart to play such a dangerous game of pretend, but she couldn’t keep herself from it, even if she wanted to.
“You are an excellent dancer, Miss Bunbury,” Julian said.
There it was, the reminder that he didn’t know she was Cass. “Thank you. And you are … er…”
“Not?” He smiled at her.
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t say—”
“Don’t worry. No one has ever accused me of being an excellent dancer. Or a proficient one, for that matter. My sister taught me this dance two nights ago in the event I might need to know.” His grin widened. “I consider it a victory that I have kept your feet from harm.”
“It’s an honor to dance with you, Captain.” Cass concentrated on memorizing the broad muscles in his shoulders with her fingertips, the sound of the scratch of the wool of his coat beneath her gloves.
“I’m afraid there is not much opportunity for dancing in the army. Perhaps I should have attended the Duchess of Richmond’s ball after all.”
Cass closed her eyes, allowing herself to be momentarily distracted by his cologne. She’d never forget that clean scent, not as long as she lived. It had been burned in her memory seven years ago on her sixteenth birthday when he’d got close enough to—
“What was that?” Good heavens, she’d completely lost the thread of the conversation and she was distinctly aware of the fact that Julian had just asked her a question of some sort.
“I asked how long you’ve known Lady Worthing.”
“Oh, Lucy? I’ve known her for—”
His brow furrowed. “Her name is Lucy?”
“Yes, why?”
“It’s just that—” He shook his head. “Never mind. My apologies. I interrupted you. You were saying?”
“I’ve known her since I was a child.” Warning bells sounded in Cass’s brain. She couldn’t admit that she and Lucy had been neighbors. He might begin asking questions about who her parents were and where they lived. She had to change the subject. Immediately.
“How is Daphne?” she asked in a rushed voice.
“My sister? How do you know her—”
“Oh, I, that is, Lucy mentioned her name to me. She’s your younger sister, is she not?” Cass smothered her groan. She was a complete fool. She’d gone straight from one untenable subject to another. Lying was entirely too complicated for her. Blast. Blast. Blast.
“Yes, Daphne is in London with my mother at present.”
“Is she old enough to have made her come-out?” Pretending as if she didn’t know that Daphne was nineteen might just make her lies sound more convincing. Never mind the fact that Cass herself had been at the girl’s come-out ball, sneaked some champagne with the younger woman, and then nearly fell into a giggling fit later when she and Daphne found themselves hiding behind a potted palm in the conservatory trying to elude rude (and smelly) Lord Montelroy, who seemed entirely too intent upon asking both of them for a dance.
“Yes, she came out last Season,” Julian replied.
“And has she made a match?” Cass asked next, also pretending she didn’t know all too well that Daphne was entirely unimpressed with the entire crop of London’s finest.
“Not yet,” Julian replied.
“Not to worry. There’s still hope for her. I’ve been out five Seasons now.” Cass winced. If they hadn’t been dancing, she might have clapped her hand over her mouth. Cass had been out for five Seasons but Patience Bunbury … apparently, Patience had been out for five Seasons as well.
The dance was quickly coming to an end, but Cass took a deep breath. She needed to stop talking about people they knew and Seasons and age. She needed to steer the conversation back to Julian. It was much safer that way. She’d come this far, been this bold. She might as well ask Julian another question. A question she’d always wanted to ask and could nev
er quite explain why she hadn’t. Strangely, pretending to be someone else somehow finally gave her the opportunity to ask it.
“May I ask you something, Captain Swift?” Cass said, relieved that her voice didn’t crack.
He inclined his head, an inquisitive look on his face. “Of course, Miss Bunbury.”
She dared to meet his gaze. “What was the worst part of being in the war?”
His eyes narrowed briefly. His lips thinned nearly imperceptibly, but he did not hesitate. “Learning just how inexplicably unfair life is.” He hadn’t even paused. The answer had rolled off his tongue as if he answered that particular question daily. Perhaps he did.
Cass merely nodded. Life was unfair. That was the truth.
CHAPTER TEN
Julian strode into his guest chamber. He untied his cravat and yanked it from around his neck. He pulled open the front of his shirt and rubbed his throat. He could breathe again. Finally. Wearing a uniform had been his habit for the last seven years. Since he’d been back to England, to Society, he’d been forced to borrow some of his brother’s clothing and that included the stifling cravats. How long would it take before he got used to them again?
He took a sip of the brandy he’d requested from a footman before he came up to his room. Brandy was one thing he had missed about England. Not that the brandy didn’t come from France. But he’d never drunk any of it while he’d been there.
His thoughts turned to the night that had just ended. Miss Bunbury. Patience. He couldn’t get her visage out of his mind. She was beyond gorgeous, any man’s dream. But her quiet, calm demeanor had surprised him. He’d wondered at it. Many ladies of his acquaintance were talkative, always going on and on about fripperies and parties. His sister adored a party. Daphne never wanted to sit still. Penelope had certainly never seemed capable of sitting long enough to write a letter, let alone a long or meaningful one. In fact, the only female he’d known who seemed as quiet and contemplative as Miss Bunbury was … Cassandra.
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