45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Cassandra felt as if one dark cloud had lifted, only to be replaced by another, more sinister than the first.

It was a relief to learn that Jethro wasn’t spying on her. That despite everything that had happened, she had not lost his trust. But if the man in the green jacket was not in Jethro’s employ, who was he, and why was he watching her?

To believe her husband was responsible had been humiliating, but discovering the spy had not been engaged by him to watch her was disturbing, and rather frightening.

Jethro tucked her arm securely within his own. “What does this man look like? I’ll report him to the constable.”

Cassandra tried to describe him. “Somewhat taller than you, but stockier, with a mop of brown hair and a face that suggests he’s been in a few fights. He always wears a shabby green jacket, rather longer than is fashionable, and his overall appearance is more that of a vagrant than a gentleman.”

“Hmm. That’s not much to go on,” Jethro said.

“It’s the best I can do. I’ll point him out to you if I spot him, but I’ve never yet seen him when I’m in your company, which is why it didn’t seem such an outlandish supposition that you had hired him to watch me.”

“What a vivid imagination you have, my dear. ”

“But what else was I to think? Julia told me the man had been pressing her for information about me, as if he was seeking a means to discredit me. It was she who first put it in my mind that you were behind it and had engaged the spy to keep an eye on me.”

“I’ll have to remember to thank her for that,” he said with a wry grin.

“I’m sorry. I should have known you would not behave in such an underhand way.”

Jethro sighed. “I’m sorry too. If I hadn’t been so unapproachable—so caught up in my fear that you blamed me for what happened—perhaps we could have had this conversation weeks ago.”

They stood together, gazing down at the harbour, and beyond it, to the bay. Cassandra breathed in the fresh air—an aroma of grass tinged with salt—and felt the tightness in her chest relax.

The idyllic panorama seemed a long way away from the talk of spies. Especially with her husband beside her, sharing the moment.

“There’s our house,” he said, gesturing across the harbour in the direction of Devonshire Buildings. “And there’s my warehouse. Do you see it?”

Before she could answer, Jethro moved behind her.

“Here. Let me show you,” he said, lifting her hand and pointing her forefinger at a two-storey building on the Quay. “Can you see it now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Cassandra mumbled, struggling to concentrate on anything but the feel of Jethro’s body against her own. It was most distracting.

Jethro secured her arm within his own again as they walked further along the Nothe toward the barracks. “I’m uneasy about this man watching you. When I’m occupied with business, I cannot be there to protect you. I hope you won’t find it too irksome, but I intend to hire a man to keep you safe, and I must insist that he accompanies you about town.”

Her husband’s concern for her welfare touched Cassandra, but she feared that being followed around by a stranger would keep her on edge. She wouldn’t be able to forget the fact that someone was watching her, even when he wasn’t there.

An idea came to her. Perhaps there was a way to satisfy Jethro’s need to protect her in a manner that would not be irksome, and might, indeed, prove beneficial.

“Thank you for your concern. It would make me feel safer, now I know you aren’t employing the spy, but could I persuade you to hire a butler rather than a bodyguard, and assign a footman to go about with me instead?”

“Hmm. Hiring a butler was one of your brother’s ideas, wasn’t it?”

“Xander suggested it, but that doesn’t mean it’s a poor notion, does it? I would prefer to be accompanied by someone familiar, and a butler would add consequence to our household—just as a liveried footman would add consequence to your wife.”

“A liveried footman, Mrs Hunt? Isn’t that rather pretentious?”

Cassandra shot him a nervous smile. “Do you object to the idea so much?”

“Not if that is what you want, though I suspect you of trying to spend all my money—new dresses, new servants, and now livery as well.”

Cassandra could hardly believe her ears—her husband was teasing her. “You forget the redecorations and all the new furniture—”

Jethro laughed, a warm throaty chuckle she had never heard before, that brought a wide smile to her lips. He laid his free hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I will make enquiries about hiring a butler tomorrow. The livery I leave up to you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course. What is my dislike of pretension compared with my wife’s wishes? You may have your liveried footmen, provided all I am required to do is foot the bill.”

Whether it was the sincerity in his voice, or the intimacy of the touch on her arm, a deep sense of wellbeing filled her body.

This was the kindness she’d hoped for in her marriage. She felt cherished—and that was only a short step away from feeling loved.