Chapter 145

Cassandra was seated in front of her dressing table when one of her lady’s maids, Nora, came in carrying a lovely bouquet of carnations.

"What do you have there?" Cassandra asked. She glanced at it only briefly before turning her attention back to her reflection as she fastened the new pair of earrings. They were among the many gifts she received from her future in-laws, part of a beautiful parure Eugenia personally chose for her. Eugenia possessed an excellent eye for fine things, and Cassandra was thoroughly impressed when she first saw the set.

Her other lady’s maid, Rachel, was busy laying out her dress for the day, while Nora carried the flowers farther into the room and carefully placed them upon the dressing table. She then stepped back, leaving enough room between herself and her mistress to avoid intruding upon her space.

"My lady, this came for you," Nora said, drawing Cassandra’s attention back to the flowers.

The posy was beautifully arranged: carnations in crimson, peach, violet, and white, threaded through with delicate greenery and bound at the stems with a narrow ribbon. The colours made a pleasing contrast against the polished surface of the dressing table.

Beside it lay a small card.

Cassandra picked it up, broke the seal, and read the short message within.

Her brows rose.

"Oh," she murmured. "It is from Lord Ravenshire."

Nora and Rachel exchanged a glance, and in that brief moment, they shared a silent conversation.

But they were not subtle, and Cassandra noticed it at once.

She placed the card beside the flowers and turned toward them. "If either of you has something to say, you may as well say it aloud. I promise I shall survive."

Nora looked sheepish, but her curiosity soon won the struggle against caution.

"Isn’t Lord Ravenshire the father of your former betrothed?"

"He is," Cassandra answered simply. She reached for the carnations again and considered where they would look best.

After briefly scanning the room, she finally placed them in a porcelain vase on the corner of the dressing table, adjusting one drooping stem until the arrangement pleased her.

Sensing their confusion, she went on. "Lord Ravenshire is not the sort of man who concerns himself with such trivia," she said. "Whatever happened between his son and me, he never blamed me for it. He was courteous throughout the ordeal, even sending me flowers to congratulate me and wish me well. You could not find a truer gentleman."

That answer seemed to satisfy Nora and Rachel.

Cassandra was amused by their confusion, but she also understood them. Not everyone would be able to fathom how she managed to remain cordial with Lord Ravenshire after how horribly she ended her previous engagement.

All part of her plan, of course. And on that thought...

"Oh." Cassandra glanced at Rachel. "Remind me to send Lord Ravenshire an invitation to the wedding."

"I will, my lady." Rachel nodded. "Will you be attending the council meeting today?"

"No. The Queen isn’t attending, so I have no reason to go." The thought of spending another day surrounded by churlish men who would rather die than come to a consensus did not appeal to her.

Cassandra walked toward the bed, running her fingers lightly over the sleeve of the dress Rachel selected. "I’ve had enough of male egos to last me a lifetime." She smiled despite herself.

There were occasions when she wondered whether the men in Parliament understood how others perceived them. They spoke of principle, duty, and national interest with grave faces, yet so much of their conduct seemed to come down to reacting because of their wounded pride.

A man disliked being contradicted, another disliked being ignored, and a third would oppose a proposal simply because someone else suggested it first.

There were exceptions, of course. One name came to mind, along with an image of his beguiling smile. In two weeks, she would be married to him.

She was still baffled by the fact that he agreed to go along with her harebrained scheme, though she made an effort not to dwell on it.

She could think of several more productive ways to spend her day.

The decision proved easy.

A few hours later, Cassandra was making her way through one of the palace galleries, enjoying the quiet time to herself.

Sunlight poured through the tall windows, falling across the polished floors and gilded frames that lined the walls. The gallery was rarely crowded at this hour, which made it a pleasant place to walk without being stopped every few minutes by an acquaintance.

She had just passed a portrait of some long-dead monarch when a familiar voice called her name.

"Lady Cassandra."

Cassandra turned and found Lady Eliza Marwood approaching with a smile.

Eliza was several years older than Cassandra and was the embodiment of grace. She carried herself with the effortless poise expected of a lady in waiting. she maintained a neat appearance. Elegant and polite without becoming overly familiar.

As a lady in waiting for the Queen, she and Cassandra spoke often enough to be more than acquaintances, though neither was ever close enough to claim friendship.

"I was hoping I should see you," Eliza said. "I received your invitation, and I assure you, I would not miss your wedding for the world. I am delighted for you."

"That is very kind of you," Cassandra responded, flashing a pleasant smile of her own.

They exchanged the customary pleasantries, and Eliza soon fell into step beside her.

Their conversation moved easily from the wedding to the weather, from court gossip to family matters. Eliza’s son was still abroad on his Grand Tour, and the subject brought a fondly exasperated laugh from his mother.

"He has been away for months now. I sometimes wonder whether he intends to return at all."

"I am sure he does."

"I hope so. Although I confess I am beginning to suspect I may not recognize him when he does." Eliza shook her head at herself. "He left looking like my young son, cheek fat and all. He may return with a beard, twice his confidence, and opinions I shall no longer recognize."

Cassandra chuckled. "That sounds like a young man making excellent use of his travels."

"Or making excellent use of his mother’s patience."

Their conversation continued as they walked, and soon they left the gallery altogether.

"The wedding of the Duke and his duchess is an occasion people would give much to attend. I am truly honoured that you thought to invite me." Eliza gushed, punctuating her words with a soft giggle. "It must be wonderful to be betrothed to a man like His Grace. You are the woman who finally caught his eye when so many others have tried and failed. Though I imagine a second betrothal cannot possess quite the same appeal as the first."