Page 45 of The Damsel
“Thank you for coming,” he murmured once he’d straightened.
“I promised I would, did I not?”
“That you did,” he replied with a wide smile. “And you look … ravishing.”
The way his gaze slid over her from head to toe bolstered his words. She’d had this gown commissioned on a whim but had never worn it, preferring not to call attention to herself when out in public. But, this night proved a different sort of occasion, so she had indulged in a rare act of vanity, donning it with pride and allowing Lila to bedeck her with all the finery to match.
The gown featured a satin crimson slip with silver embroidery adorning the hem, under a robe of French gauze in decadent black. The sleeves overlaid with more of the gauze gathered in elegant sweeps at her shoulders, the neckline diving a bit lower than she usually preferred to flaunt the matching rubies she’d clasped about her throat. Lila had used curling tongs to tame her natural spirals into neater coils, sweeping them off her neck and arranging them in a whimsical style that allowed a few decorative strands loose at her temples and nape. If the look on Robert’s face as he drank her in was any indication, she’d achieved the desired effect.
“Come, I want you to meet my father.”
She took his arm and allowed him to guide her across the room. Its occupants sat clustered near the hearth, enjoying a drink before dinner. She recognized Lady Stanley right off, her silk turban adorned with ostrich feathers giving her a commanding air. Beside her sat a rail thin man with weathered features akin to Robert’s. The man had none of his son’s classical beauty, but Cassandra could see parts of him in the baron’s smile as he stood to greet her.
Lady Stanley stood to help him, taking his arm and offering support as he struggled to get upright. Pity for the baron pricked within her chest, who trembled slightly once he’d found his feet and offered her a wobbly smile. His sunken cheeks and weakened limbs gave truth to Robert’s claim that he would not live to see another year.
“Father, may I present Lady Cassandra Lane. Lady Cassandra, my father, Baron Stanley.”
The baron took her hand, his genuine smile growing wider as their gazes met. It struck her much the same way Robert’s did—full of life and joy.
“Welcome, my lady, it is an honor to have you here.”
She found it difficult to keep from returning his smile. “I am honored to have been invited. Happy Birthday, my lord.”
“Thank you. I have been fortunate to see so many of them. Have you met my wife, Lady Stanley?”
Her gaze shifted to the old woman looking at her with a heavy measure of disdain in her eyes. “We have been previously introduced. It is good to see you again, my lady.”
She sounded as if she were anything but, but Cassandra did not let that cow her. She simply gave the baroness her coolest stare.
“Likewise.”
Taking her arm once more, Robert steered her away from the baroness and began introducing her to the other guests.
While the vicar and the Rodinghams greeted her with polite smiles, the rest were not so magnanimous. Lord and Lady Loring—a viscount and his wife who served as two of theton’s biggest gossips— wore gleeful expressions that told her they couldn’t wait to return to London and report the happenings of this evening to all their friends. She silently dared them with her eyes to speak an unkind word about her, which seemed to unsettle the viscount but did nothing to ruffle his shrew of a wife.
The Fletchers all eyed her with varying degrees of curiosity and condescension. Lady Fletcher was like a mirror image of her friend, the baroness—lips puckered, brow furrowed, eyes flashing with outright dislike. Lord Fletcher seemed the most indifferent, though Cassandra assumed his face might always be set into an implacable expression of boredom. Miss Lucy Fletcher gazed upon her as if afraid she might become sullied if she stepped too close, while Martin Fletcher seemed amused by her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he only gave her an indolent grin, meeting her challenge head-on.
The widow, Lady Walter, gave a polite nod from where she sat in a quiet corner alone, still dressed in the muted gray and lavender tones of half-mourning. Mr. and Mrs. Fareweather ignored her altogether, turning up their noses and sniffing as if offended by her presence.
By the time all the introductions were done, the butler had arrived to inform them that dinner was served. She was handed over to the baron, who would escort her to dinner as the highest ranking woman in the room. She ended up being the true escort, resting one hand atop his arm and ensuring he kept his balance as they made their slow way to the dining room.
“My son must be green with envy,” he whispered, leaning in close. “He does not have the privilege of taking the loveliest woman at the party in to dinner.”
While flattery tended to put her teeth on edge, the twinkle in the baron’s eyes and the good humor in his voice made that impossible.
Like his son, the man was difficult to dislike.
“Lord Stanley, you are a shameless flirt.”
When he wiggled his eyebrows at her, she erupted into giggles— something she hadn’t done since she’d been a debutante. If the Stanleys union had been a love match, she could see how the man hard charmed his way straight to the baroness’ heart.
“And you are quite a woman,” he replied as they entered through the dining room doors. “It is easy to see why Robert is so enamored with you.”
She glanced over her shoulder to where Robert stood near the middle of the line with Lucy Fletcher on his arm. He looked bored to tears as he listened to her blather on about some thing or another, but when he found her watching him he brightened, giving her a sly smile.
Robert, enamored with her?
No, the baron couldn’t mean that. He’d invited her here as a kindness, and for his own benefit. She excited him, that much became clear whenever they were together. The novelty of their affair would soon wear thin, and he would grow bored with her as men were wont to do.
