19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Cassandra glanced in the hall mirror before taking her husband’s arm and walking out the door to the carriage. It was not quite six months since her father’s death—too early for colours—so she had chosen to wear grey for her first evening engagement as a married woman, as befitted a period of lighter mourning.

Bridget had created a matching turban, decorated with silver and white feathers, to complete the ensemble, and Cassandra had to admit it suited her. Though she did not feel precisely beautiful, she felt regal, and as ready to face Eugenia as she would ever be.

There would be no avoiding the woman tonight. Jethro had been true to his word, and they had accepted the first invitation they received. Cassandra just wished it hadn’t been from the Framptons. Her husband had assured her it was wise to attack the source of the issue, but she would much rather have cried off.

As they travelled the short distance to the Framptons’ house, Cassandra thought back to the last time she had seen Eugenia.

Strangely, it was not the woman’s hateful words that had stayed with her, but what followed. Cassandra had not expected Jethro to show such gentleness when he had found her crying.

If only they could have remained in that moment instead of reverting to the way they had been. Two people who slept in the same house and ate at the same table, joined by marital vows, but nothing more .

Perhaps good would come out of Eugenia’s spitefulness if it forced Jethro to spend more time with his wife. And if the malicious woman repeated her unkindness, Cassandra realised she wouldn’t mind quite so much, if it meant Jethro comforted her again.

They arrived at Eugenia’s house and were shown into the drawing room where their hosts welcomed them. Jethro shook hands with Mr Frampton, but his bow toward the man’s wife was markedly restrained, making Cassandra cringe with embarrassment.

Didn’t he know that in society, you were supposed to act as if you were on the best of terms with your greatest enemy? She thought she saw a faint blush on Eugenia’s face as she moved on to greet another guest and hoped it would not give her a fresh reason to attack her.

It was a vain hope.

They had only taken a few steps when Eugenia joined them, with one of the ladies who had heard her veiled accusations about Cassandra’s marriage by her side.

“Well?” she asked. “How do you like it? Elegant, is it not?”

Cassandra gazed around the drawing room with begrudging admiration. Although Eugenia was a despicable person in other respects, there was no doubt she had a talent for decorating. The walls were painted in a delicate green with marble pillars on either side of each door. An imposing portrait of Mr and Mrs Frampton hung over the marble fireplace, and a series of capriccios of Rome and Naples, all in elaborate frames, adorned the other walls. The carpet was floral in design and the ceiling decorated to reflect it.

“Exquisite. Were you inspired by the work of the renowned architect Robert Adam? The way the ceiling mirrors the carpet reminds me of a room I once visited at Saltram.”

Eugenia ignored her comments. Perhaps she had believed the idea was unique. What a disappointment for her.

“And the furniture? Is that to your taste?”

The sofas and chairs had elegantly carved legs and backs and were covered in a deep green material that sat well with the rest of the room. The side-tables and nicknack stands were in the same mellow hue of oak.

“It is very fine.”

“And you, Mr Hunt? What do you think?”

“In my opinion, it is designed more for fashion than for comfort.”

Eugenia chuckled, and her companion joined in .

“Why, of course. It is the showpiece of the home—a reflection of its mistress. What impression does your drawing room give about the lady of the house?”

“None.”

“None? Then your wife has no say in the decoration of your drawing room? Shame on you, Mr Hunt,” she said, twitting Jethro’s chest with her fan in a flirtatious manner.

Cassandra feared what his next words might be and laced her arm through his. She hoped to goodness he would not pull away.

“You mistake my husband, Eugenia,” she said, gripping his arm tightly. “We have been married less than two months and are yet to turn our minds to the house. How long since you wed? Six months, or is it seven? You are to be congratulated. I am amazed you have achieved so much in such a short time.”

Eugenia gave a smug smile. “I don’t like to boast, but I do feel rather pleased with the way this room turned out.”

Cassandra breathed a little easier. Eugenia never had been able to resist flattery. It was a shame she had not remembered that last time they had met. But then, she had been alone.

With her husband beside her, Cassandra’s confidence had returned, and though Jethro was not helping with his abrupt behaviour, she felt more equipped to deflect Eugenia’s attacks.

“When we are ready to redecorate our drawing room, I will know where to turn for advice,” Cassandra said, causing her hostess to glow with pleasure.

The butler announced dinner and Eugenia looked about her, pairing up the guests according to precedence.

Cassandra clung to her husband’s arm, hoping she would not be required to partner another gentleman.

Eugenia shot her a smug look. “I see the newly married pair will not be parted. How quaint.”

Jethro growled under his breath. Fortunately, it was low enough that only Cassandra could hear.

“Smile,” she whispered.

He frowned, but when she sent an exaggerated grin in his direction, the corners of his mouth upturned a little in response. It wasn’t much of a smile, but at least Jethro didn’t look as if he wished he was somewhere else. Which was, she knew, the truth .

Dinner was as splendid as Cassandra had supposed it would be. Three courses with every delicacy imaginable were spread before them, one after the other, each with different wines.

Jethro drew some comment when, as was his custom, he refused a second glass, but apart from that, the meal passed without incident. Sat in the middle of the table, as far from Eugenia and her husband as was possible, there was no one to provoke Jethro or taunt his wife.

Cassandra fretted about how he would cope when the ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their port, but she soon realised she should have been worrying about herself, not her husband.

The flattery had worn off, and Eugenia reverted to her normal, spiteful self.

Before Cassandra could escape, her hostess had gathered all the women around her. “What do you say, ladies? Shall we push back the furniture and make our husbands dance with us? We’ll have to take it in turns as there’s only room for one set, but we must give the newest couple amongst us a chance to stand up with each other. It won’t be long before we’re all in the family way, and then our dancing days will be over—for a while, at least.”

The other ladies voiced their enthusiasm, but Eugenia’s gaze did not waver from Cassandra’s face.

“What do you say to a dance, Mrs Hunt?”

“You forget, I’m still in mourning, Eugenia.”

“Oh fie, Cassandra. It’s been five months since your father died, and I’m sure he wouldn’t wish to deprive you of the chance to dance with your husband. It would not do at a public assembly, but this is a private party. We are all friends here. Unless, of course, you have another reason for objecting…”

Botheration. Eugenia had put her in an impossible position, and the sly smile on her lips suggested she was well aware of it. She thanked God that Xander had not married this awful woman. It would have been unbearable to have her as part of the family and be required to feign an affection for her she could never feel.

Though Cassandra wanted to decline out of respect for her father, it would be madness not to agree. If she refused, Eugenia would titter and make it appear she would not dance because she was in a delicate condition, fanning the flames of the gossip already circulating.

But there was another consideration that gave her pause. What if she expressed her enthusiasm for Eugenia’s idea, and her husband declined to stand up with her? That would undo the good her own sacrifice made .

All eyes were fixed on her. She had to decide. “I would love to dance, provided you see no impropriety in it.” She hoped her voice sounded more certain than she felt.

Only time would tell if she had made the right choice.

Would Jethro decline to stand up with her? It was a very real possibility. Because Cassandra had never seen him dance—and she didn’t know if he could.