“If you’re wrong—”
“I’m not,” Reggie said simply.
“Very well.”
Reggie handed Marcus his glass. “If you don’t mind, I think it’s past time I joined in the dance.”
Marcus smiled. “Will this be the first time you’ve danced with Miss Effington?”
“Oh, I have no intention of dancing with Miss Effington at the moment.” Reggie adjusted the cuff of his coat and cast his friend a wicked smile. “That too will drive her mad.”
“Must he dance every dance?” Cassie fluttered her fan and fixed a pleasant smile firmly on her face.
“He does seem to be somewhat in demand at the moment,” Delia murmured. “Although I don’t think he has danced every dance. In fact, it was no more than twenty minutes ago that you commented on the fact that he wasn’t dancing at all.”
“Did I?” Cassie forced a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t believe I even noticed what Lord Berkley was or wasn’t doing.”
Certainly, she had noticed Lord Berkley and his friend Lord Pennington standing near the doors to the terrace, deep in conversation. She had noticed the moment Lord Berkley arrived, exactly whom he had spoken to since his arrival, precisely how many glasses of champagne he’d had thus far, and now, each and every lady he danced with. She noticed as well his overly flirtatious manner and the irritating way in which he looked at every woman as though there was something uniquely special about her that only he was discerning enough to note. And she noticed he didn’t seem to be the tiniest bit aware of her. It was most annoying.
Delia snorted in disbelief. “You have been unable to tear your eyes from the man since he first stepped into the room.”
“That’s absurd. I have no interest at all in the comings and goings of Lord Berkley,” Cassie said out of the corner of her mouth while returning the smile cast at her by a Mr. Wexley, her manner at once friendly but not overly encouraging. Flirtation was an art that required a certain level of balancing between being too encouraging to an interested gentleman and not encouraging enough. One hated to burn one’s bridges, after all.
“Lord Berkley and I are friends. Any notice I might possibly pay him is no different than what one friend might have for another. There is nothing more to it than that.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” Delia nodded slowly. “I didn’t for a moment think that there was anything more—”
“While he is apparently making his way around the entire room, he has not requested a dance from me,”
Cassie said, the pleasant note in her voice belying her irritation with the man. “We are friends, and one would think a friend would at least acknowledge another friend’s presence. Why, he has practically ignored me.”
“And you have never taken that well.”
Cassie acknowledged the speculative smile Lord Hawking directed at her with a pleasant but not too welcoming nod. “Never.”
“Although you are scarcely one to complain. You have not spoken two words to him,” Delia said pointedly.
“I have not had the opportunity. Besides, it would be terribly improper for me to approach him.”
Cassie’s manner was lofty, as if she would never consider such a thing.
“What on earth has gotten into you?” Delia studied her sister carefully. “I can’t recall you ever being quite this concerned about propriety before.”
“It is unusual, isn’t it?” Cassie sighed. “It’s nothing at all, or perhaps it’s everything. I’ve had the oddest sense of, well, dissatisfaction of late. Look at it, Delia.” Cassie gestured at the scene spread out before them.
Lady Puget’s ball was the height of elegance, but then it always was. Ladies and gentlemen were dressed in their finest, but then they always were. Flirtation and anticipation hung in the air, but then it always did. It was very much the same as last year or the year before and would probably remain unchanged next year and the year after that.
“Do you realize we’ve been out in society since our eighteenth year? This is my seventh season, my second without you. It’s not nearly as much fun without you, you know.”
“I am sorry.”
Cassie shrugged. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. Well, it could have been helped, but it’s far too late for that now.”
Delia’s eyes narrowed. “You do realize I do not intend to spend the rest of my life apologizing to you for my indiscretions, don’t you?”
“Yes of course, I don’t intend for you to, and I am sorry that I brought it up.” Cassie waved away her twin’s comment. “It’s just that I have been thinking quite a lot about the future recently and wondering if indeed the entire world considers me eccentric—”
“I, for one, am quite proud of you,” Delia said staunchly.
“Your loyalty is unquestioned, dear sister, therefore you scarcely count, but I do appreciate the sentiment. And now, that…that man”—she nodded toward the dance floor, where Lord Berkley was at this very moment no doubt being utterly charming and beguiling some unsuspecting innocent with his irresistible laugh—“has invaded my life—”
“One could say you are the one who has invaded his life or, at the very least, his home,” Delia said mildly.
Cassie paid her no heed. “—and made me consider things I thought I had long ago decided.” She waved her fan with a bit more emphasis than necessary. “It’s most annoying.”
“Annoying seems to be the one word you use quite a bit in connection with Lord Berkley.”
“Because it’s appropriate. He is infuriating, maddening, exasperating and I’m not quite sure why, which in and of itself is annoying. He can also be exceedingly charming, which I also find irritating.” She pulled her brows together. “And because this is entirely his fault. For the very first time in my life, I’m not entirely certain what I’m doing is right.”
“Refurbishing houses?”
“No, no, not that. I find that quite enjoyable and challenging and I shall never give it up, no matter what anyone thinks.”
“Then you’re talking about your avoidance of men in need of reform?” Delia paused for emphasis. “Men like Lord Berkley, perhaps?”
“No,” Cassie said firmly. “I still believe that’s the best course for me, but I am willing to admit that my concept of Lord Perfect might be somewhat ill conceived. I hate the thought of lowering my standards, but it may well be time to at least reexamine them. Why, there couldn’t possibly be anyone who could meet the standards of a Lord Perfect—or a Miss Wonderful, for that matter.”
“I see.”
“What?”
Delia nodded in an all-knowing manner almost as annoying as anything Lord Berkley might do. “That’s what this is all about.”
“What do you mean?” Cassie said innocently and wished for once that she had held her tongue.
“Your absurd wager with Lord Berkley. I should have known.” Delia studied her sister curiously.
“You’re regretting it, aren’t you?”
“Not in the least.” Cassie blew a resigned breath. “Perhaps a bit. It simply doesn’t seem fair, that’s all. Lord Berkley might as well hand over his forty pounds right now.”
“To add to my forty pounds,” Delia murmured.
“The point is he can’t possibly find a Lord Perfect. You said it yourself that men aren’t perfect.”
“No, of course not,” Delia said slowly. “What of Miss Wonderful?”
“That’s scarcely a challenge. I shouldn’t have any problem at all finding a suitable match for his lordship.” Cassie shrugged disdainfully. “This ballroom alone is full of Miss Wonderfuls. You can scarcely take two steps without tripping over one of them.
“Look at them, Delia, this year’s crop of sweet, young things all ready to be sacrificed on the altar of matrimony. They are perfect from the tips of their perfect fingers to the tops of their perfect toes. It’s revolting.”
“Might I point out that you are very much among their number.”
“Hardly. There isn’t a person here who would think of me as anything near perfect, what with the mistaken belief that I tread a mere step away from scandal and now members of my own family are describing my doing something I enjoy as an eccentricity, which admittedly in this day and age is not entirely inaccurate. In truth, I am a mere heartbeat away from being firmly on the shelf.” Cassie sighed theatrically. “The eccentric Miss Effington.”
Delia laughed. “Come now, Cassie—”
“You think I’m being dramatic, but I’m not. I’m simply facing the facts of my life.” She wrinkled her nose. “And they’re not especially pretty.”
Delia stared at her twin. “I think you have a few good years left. Need I point out you have danced every dance tonight yourself. You have not lacked for partners nor for attention.”
“Yes, but as always those partners fall into two categories: eminently respectable, deadly boring, and interested in nothing but marriage, or far too rakish, prone to scandal, and interested in anything but marriage. Not one gentleman here tonight, and in truth, I don’t know anyone at all who is even remotely like—”
“Lord Berkley?”
“Yes.” Cassie started and stared at her sister. “No. I didn’t mean to say that at all. I meant to say Lord
Perfect.”
Delia raised a brow.
“I did.” Cassie glared at her sister. “It was simply a slip of the tongue and has no more significance than that.”
“Of course not.” Delia’s smug smile belied her words.
“It was probably only that we’ve been talking about him and our wager, and he was the first man that came to mind when speaking of the kind of match I want.” Cassie hesitated. “That’s not what I meant, either. It does sound rather incriminating, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
“I do like him, Delia, when he’s not being annoying, that is. However, we share nothing more than friendship, and I’m certain he has no interest in me beyond that. Why, the man isn’t even interested in kissing me.”
“Really?” Amusement twinkled in Delia’s eye. “And how would you know that?”
“It came up yesterday,” Cassie said in an offhand manner.
“Somewhere between the window hangings and furniture placement, no doubt?”
“Something like that,” Cassie muttered. It still rankled, that nonsense he had spouted about references. And whether or not kissing her would be worth the price.
His qualifications for Miss Wonderful were bothersome as well. Not that they weren’t entirely reasonable, but they so blatantly did not describe, well, her.
“I should call it off,” Cassie said, deciding to do so the moment she said the words.
“The wager?” Delia’s brow furrowed with suspicion. “Why?”
“As you said, it’s absurd. And it really isn’t fair. There’s a plethora of Miss Wonderfuls and scarcely a Lord Perfect in sight.” Cassie shook her head. “No, winning this wager would be little more than stealing.”
“Yes, of course,” Delia murmured. “That sounds plausible.”
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “I know that look, Delia. What are you really thinking?”
“It’s silly of me, I know, but I thought your reluctance to continue with your wager was because you didn’t want to find Lord Berkley’s Miss Wonderful for him.”
“Not at all.” Cassie adopted a lofty tone. “I just don’t think this contest is fair.”
“You should tell him then.”
“Indeed I should.”
“When?”
“When next I see him.” Cassie thought for a moment. “We have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight? Now?” Delia pressed her point. “This very minute.”
“I don’t think—”
Delia leaned closer. “Meet him on the terrace. Terraces are excellent places to work out problems or come to arrangements or anything else. And the two of you are friends, after all.”
“That would be most inappropriate. What if someone saw us? My reputation—”
Delia laughed. “You are already the eccentric Miss Effington. Anything of a scandalous nature would be an improvement.”
“Delia!”
“Oh come now, Cassie. You are simply no fun anymore.” Delia huffed. “However, if you insist on being so annoyingly proper, and yes, I do mean annoyingly…” Delia glanced around quickly until her gaze met her husband’s, and she nodded. A moment later, St. Stephens joined them. He glanced from one sister to the next and frowned. “Should I leave again?”
“No dearest, you shouldn’t.” Delia cast her husband a loving smile. “I need you to dance the next set with Cassie.”
He winced. “The entire set?”
Cassie huffed. “It’s not necessary—”
“It’s absolutely necessary,” Delia said firmly and turned to her husband. “Half the set and then I shall meet you both on the terrace.”
“Both?” His gaze slid from his wife to her sister and back. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because Cassie needs to speak privately with Lord Berkley, and the terrace is the best place to do that.”
Delia’s eyes widened innocently. “Surely you remember what lovely places terraces are to…talk.”
Cassie groaned to herself.
“Oh.” His expression cleared. “Oh, yes, of course. Excellent idea.”
It was an idea fraught with danger and Cassie well knew it, even if she couldn’t bring herself to tell her sister. All she’d thought about from the moment Lord Berkley hadn’t kissed her was what it would be like if he did.