The Pursuit Of Marriage (22 page)

Her voice was oddly breathless. “That remains to be seen, but he does indeed appear perfect. And Miss Bellingham? Does she meet your qualifications?”

“I daresay Miss Bellingham meets any man’s qualifications.” His voice was low, his gaze intense, and he could have been saying anything at all.

“We should declare it a draw, then, I should think. The wager, that is.”

“What do we do now?” He stared down at her.

A dozen answers came to mind. None of which were proper. All of which were terribly scandalous and most exciting.

Adventure, excitement, and passion.

“If indeed we have found Miss Wonderful and Lord Perfect, I would think we should now turn our attentions toward them.”

“It would seem the sensible thing to do.” He nodded slowly.

“If we wished to, that is.” She held her breath.

“Why wouldn’t we wish to?”

“No reason really, although I can’t help but wonder…” She searched for the right words. She’d never told a man she wanted him or cared for him or even probably loved him. And once again words failed her.

“Go on, Cassandra. Wonder what?”

“If your sister might not be right.” Cassie drew a deep breath. “If there might well be something much more interesting about…imperfect.”

“There might well be something,” his gaze searched hers, “wonderful.”

“Lord Berkley?” a female voice said lightly.

Cassie started, as if they had just been caught in a compromising situation. They hadn’t, of course. They hadn’t moved. They were still here in the middle of the room, surrounded by any number of people. Very much in public view.

Still, it had felt so very private.

Reggie shook his head as if to clear it. Had he too been as caught up in the intimacy of the moment as she’d been? He cast her a regretful smile and turned toward the intruder. “Miss Bellingham, you look lovely this evening.”

“You are too kind, my lord.” Miss Bellingham turned wide, innocent, violet eyes toward Cassie. “I do hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“Not at all.” Cassie forced a pleasant smile. “We were simply discussing the…appeal of perfection.”

“Really? How very fascinating.” Miss Bellingham turned to gaze up at Reggie. “You must tell me more.”

“I should be delighted,” he said with entirely too much enthusiasm. Oh, it was subtle enough—probably only Cassie had noted it—but it was definitely there. “Wasn’t it Saint Augustine who said the very perfection of a man was to find out his own imperfection?” Miss Bellingham said with a flutter of her lashes.

“Why yes, I think so.” Reggie smiled with delight. “Very good, Miss Bellingham.”

“How charmingly well read of you,” Cassie said under her breath.

“And, let me think, another quote comes to mind. How did that go?” Reggie paused for a moment. “Ah yes: ‘Man is his own star, and the soul that can render an honest and perfect man commands all light, all influence—’ ”

“ ‘All fate.’ ” Miss Bellingham smiled smugly. “John Fletcher, I believe.”

“Excellent, Miss Bellingham, really most impressive.” Reggie stared with obvious admiration. Cassie wanted to smack him.

Miss Bellingham turned toward Cassie with an expectant air. “Miss Effington?”

“Yes?”

“Surely you have some pertinent quote to add to the discussion?” Miss Bellingham gazed at her innocently.

Cassie shrugged in a lighthearted manner. “I must confess, nothing comes to mind at the moment.”

“Miss Effington is quite well versed in Shakespeare,” Reggie said staunchly. Well versed?

Cassie forced a modest laugh. “I’m not sure I would say well versed; I am no scholar, but I am fond of Shakespeare.”

“As are we all.” Miss Bellingham cast her an overly sweet smile. “No doubt, he had something to say about perfection?”

“He had something to say about nearly everything.” Cassie’s smile was just as sweet, belying her desperate search for something, anything that didn’t sound completely stupid. Why didn’t she have some of Delia’s interest in literature? “Let me think…”

“I believe he said, ‘Silence is the perfectest herald of joy,’ ” a voice said behind her. Cassie turned with a fair amount of relief.

“ ‘I were but little happy if I could say how much.’ ” Mr. Drummond smiled down at her. “From Much Ado about Nothing. It’s the only quote I can think of from Shakespeare having anything to do with perfection and is really somewhat obscure. I daresay that’s why it was difficult to remember.”

“Exactly.” Cassie beamed up at him.

“Of course,” Reggie murmured.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I too am exceptionally fond of Shakespeare,” Mr. Drummond said.

“As are we all,” Miss Bellingham said again, her smile a shade less sweet than before.

“I was wondering if I could escort you into dinner, Miss Effington.” Mr. Drummond smiled his perfect smile. “I confess I am more than a bit curious about whether or not the rest of what your brother told me about you was true.”

“Did he say she’s eccentric?” Reggie blurted.

“Not at all.” Mr. Drummond shook his head. “He said she was remarkably clever.”

“Did he? I must say I’m rather surprised.” Cassie laughed. “My brothers have a tendency to be somewhat critical.”

“I can’t imagine what they would be critical about,” Mr. Drummond said firmly and held out his arm.

“Shall we?”

“I should think Lady Pennington no doubt wishes us to proceed in a specific order,” Reggie said quickly.

“Precedence and all that.”

“On the contrary, my lord.” Miss Bellingham gazed up at Reggie. “She told me, as we are in the country, and we are all friends or we soon shall be, she would prefer to dispense with such formality.”

“Still, it’s not at all proper.” Reggie’s tone was more than a little stuffy, and Cassie stared at him in surprise.

“Nonetheless, my lord, it is her home and one should think she should be able to do as she wishes,” Mr. Drummond said mildly.

“Beyond that,” Miss Bellingham added, “she said we are quite inundated with viscounts—Lord Bellingham is a viscount, too—which she said made who precedes whom especially complicated, and her mother-in-law agreed with her. Although I do believe she has assigned specific places for us at the table.”

“That’s settled then.” Mr. Drummond again offered his arm. “Miss Effington?”

Cassie glanced at Reggie. A polite smile lingered on his lips, but his eyes were slightly narrowed and gleamed silver. He looked very much like a man who had well earned his reputation. A man at once dangerous and exciting. A man tasting the distinctly bitter taste of jealousy. It was too, too wonderful.

Cassie took Mr. Drummond’s arm and beamed up at him. “I am quite looking forward to our conversation, Mr. Drummond. I should like to hear all about your plantations.”

He chuckled. “And I should like to hear all about you.”

They started toward the dining room, and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She was certain Reggie would escort Miss Bellingham into dinner, and she did not particularly wish to see Miss Wonderful on his arm, hanging on his every word.

No, the object here was to make Reggie jealous. And Lord Perfect was just the man to do it. As much as she hated to admit it, Mr. Drummond was indeed perfect and possibly even perfect for her. Or would be if her heart was not already engaged elsewhere. And worse, Miss Bellingham seemed extremely well suited for Reggie, and who knew where his feelings lay. Cassie was confident Reggie had some affection for her, but he did have a reputation with women and she could not completely dismiss the possibility that he might simply have been toying with her. She never would have imagined that finding Lord Perfect and Miss Wonderful would be anything but perfect and wonderful.

It could well be the biggest mistake of her life.

Eleven

A woman who claims to know what she wants is dangerous. A woman who really does know what she wants is to be avoided at all costs.

Marcus, Earl of Pennington

R eggie would like nothing better at the moment than to throttle his hostess. Certainly Gwen’s insistence on informality should have worked to Reggie’s benefit, and had he been quicker, he would have been the one escorting Cassandra in to dinner. Instead, he’d been left with Miss Bellingham, which, granted, did help in his effort to make Cassandra jealous. Or at least it would have if not for Mr. Drummond.

Reggie could cheerfully throttle Christian Effington as well for procuring a Lord Perfect who did indeed seem, well, perfect. And thus far, Cassandra did not appear to be finding perfection at all dull or uninteresting.

Even the seating arrangements were not to Reggie’s liking. He was seated between Miss Bellingham and Lady St. Stephens, directly across from Cassandra, who sat between Lord St. Stephens and Mr. Drummond. He would have much preferred to have Cassandra by his side, and as far away from Drummond as possible, with the ever present possibility of intimate conversation between and the chance to gaze into her blue eyes. There was certainly no chance of anything even remotely personal transpiring with her a table width away.

If there was a benefit to the seating arrangement at all it was that Lucy was seated across from Christian Effington, and even the constant flirtatious glances she cast at him were to no avail, given the floral arrangements and goblets between them. To Effington’s credit, he appeared to be doing his best not to encourage the girl and kept up a lively conversation with Miss Bellingham on his right and Miss Hilliard on his left. Indeed, Effington seemed somewhat uncomfortable by Lucy’s attention, and Reggie’s opinion of the man notched upward. Better yet, the young Lord Bellingham, far closer to Lucy in age than any other of their party, seemed quite taken with her. Indeed, the poor boy could scarcely eat for gazing at her with adoring eyes. Lucy seemed well aware of his interest, and Reggie was fairly certain she encouraged it. He snorted to himself. Practice indeed. He would have to have a long talk with his mother about the dangers of allowing young women, specifically sisters, such freedoms. Across the table, Cassandra laughed at something Drummond said, and it was all Reggie could do to restrain himself from leaping across the table, planting his fist firmly in Drummond’s perfect face, sweeping Cassandra up in his arms, and stealing away with her. Abduction was sounding better and better.

“Excellent meal, is it not, my lord?” Miss Bellingham said.

He wrenched his gaze from Cassandra, adopted a pleasant smile, and turned toward Miss Bellingham.

“Indeed it is, Miss Bellingham, but I must admit, for as long as I can remember, the cook here at Holcroft Hall has always been outstanding.”

She cocked her head and studied him curiously. “Your own estate is near here, I understand.”

Reggie nodded. “Berkley Park is a scant half-hour ride away.”

“I should love to see it.”

“Perhaps we can arrange an outing during your stay here.” Out of the corner of his eye he noted Cassandra watching him, and he smiled at Miss Bellingham. “Berkley Park is lovely at this time of year.”

“I have no doubt of that. I quite like the country.”

“Do you?” He raised a brow. “I should think a young woman like yourself, considered an excellent match and indeed one of the toasts of the season, would prefer the excitement of London to the rather staid life of the country.”

“Not at all.” She waved away his comment with a flick of her lovely hand. “I much prefer the openness of the countryside and I miss being able to ride freely, without the restrictions placed on you when you’re limited to only an occasional jaunt in Hyde Park.” She smiled wryly. “When one is declared a toast of the season, one’s every action is watched and scrutinized and discussed. I suspect a great many in society are waiting to see if you fall from such illustrious heights, and an even greater portion are hoping that you do so.”

Reggie’s brows pulled together. “That’s rather a jaded view of it all, isn’t it?”

“Probably, but accurate nonetheless.” She shrugged. “I must confess, this has a great deal to do with why, when Lady St. Stephens told me of your wager with her sister, I was most intrigued and agreed to play along with your efforts.”

She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “It can be dreadfully wearing, you know, simply trooping from one party to another, always behaving properly, all in the overriding pursuit of marriage and a good match and, if one is lucky, affection, even perhaps love.” She settled back in her chair and considered him thoughtfully. “Any sort of fun or adventure is limited to what one finds in a ballroom. Unless, of course, one has the opportunity to take part in a farce like this one.”

He laughed. “And you are doing an excellent job, Miss Bellingham. I am most appreciative of your efforts.”

She paused for a long moment, as if choosing her words, and met his gaze directly. “My dear Lord Berkley, I’m not entirely certain I’m still playing a role.”

“What do you mean?” he said slowly.

She smiled. “Why, my lord, you’re an excellent match. You have a fine title and fortune. You’re exceptionally attractive and quite well read. All in all, you’re very much what any woman would wish for in a husband. I could do far worse.”