Secrets of a Spinster (34 page)

But he dared not discuss it with them. Not until he had something concrete to tell. For all he knew, the lieutenant had perished with the rest, and there was no hope. He could not bear to raise that hope in vain.

And so he met with his friends and the captain every few days to gather what information they could. Between their combined contacts, influence and determination, they had been able to manage much, and their progress had been impressive. But if they did not receive answers, real answers, soon, it would be too late.

“Do not wait for me, Dawes,” he told the man as they pulled up to the club. “I may be quite a long while. It is not far to home, I shall walk.”

Dawes inclined his head with a quick, “Yes, sir,” and was off again just as quickly.

Geoffrey entered the establishment, nodded to a few gentlemen he knew, and then spotted his friends and the captain at their usual table in the corner, drinks already in hand.

“Ah, Harris!” the captain called, standing and coming to shake his hand. “Good to see you.”

“Riverton.”

He nodded to his friends, who were not quite so polite nor so eager to see him as to stand for his arrival.

“How is Mary?” Nathan asked when he sat. “Moira is quite worried, but doesn’t wish to trouble her.”

Colin snorted loudly.

Nathan glared at him, even as the others fought to hide smiles. Captain Riverton looked as though he was not sure whether he was to be smiling with the others or frowning with Nathan.

“Something to say about my wife, Colin?” Nathan growled.

Colin shook his head, but said, “The very idea that Moira should be a trouble to anyone is absurd, Nate.”

Nathan frowned more, then turned to Geoff. “So how is Mary?”

“Bored,” Geoff said on a sigh. “Being confined to bed does not suit her. But she is in good spirits, though frustrated with the amount of flowers gathering in her foyer.”

Now the lot snickered, save for poor Captain Riverton, who was still confused.

“You may tell Moira she would be more than welcome,” Geoff told Nathan when they had settled themselves. “Mary was delighted beyond words to see me, I can only imagine how desperate that is.”

Nathan and Derek hid smiles, while Duncan and Colin nodded soberly.

Geoff ignored the lot of them and turned to the captain. “Now, then, Riverton. What news do we have from your friends in Spain?”

Captain Riverton slowly set down his glass, and stared at it for a long moment.

The table became subdued instantly as all gazed upon the young man. Geoff felt his stomach sink in despair.

“Will?” Derek asked quietly.

Riverton glanced up, then smiled broadly. “I think we may have something after all.”

C
hapter
T
wenty
O
ne

“C
assie, can you come and help me with this?”

There was no response.

Mary waited a count of thirty, and then tried again. “Cassie! I need your help!”    

Again, her sister did not reply.

“If you don’t come and help, I won’t keep any of your gowns at all and you will have to go about the country in your mourning dress or stark naked!”

She grinned at her own threat. If that wouldn’t send her sister scampering into the spare bedchamber used exclusively for Cassandra’s wardrobe, nothing on earth would.

As it happened, it didn’t. Not only that, but Mary heard no reply whatsoever. She set down the pile of gowns she had started to look through and put her hands on her hips. Despite her threats, she was not about to make any sort of lasting decision about which of her sister’s gowns would be suited for the country, and which should be packed away for the rare London excursion. As well as Mary knew her sister, she was not at all versed in her taste for fashion.

If she were to make a mistake, the world might collapse in on itself and they would all be lost forever.

She turned from the room and set about to find her sister, drag her by the arm up to this room if she must, and force her to make these decisions for herself.

Cassandra had not lessened her behavior in the last few weeks. She rarely left her bedchamber, and when she did, never ventured to the main floor. It was a very good day if her hair progressed beyond a loose braid, and an even more fortunate day if she was not wearing black. She was determined to mourn her “dear, sweet Simon” as if they had actually wed, which meant her current fashion was dictated by how mournful she felt that day, whether she wore black or merely something very drab and plain.

Either way, the change was not something Mary was prepared to deal with, though she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice. Cassie had been moaning about losing him for months now.

Recovering from his death would be much worse.

Her first stop was Cassandra’s bedchamber, which had become her private sanctuary of late. If Cassie was ignoring her, she would be in this room.

She knocked softly, knowing it was unlikely she would respond now when she had not before. When she had no response, she entered of her own accord.

“Cassie! Stop ignoring me!” she scolded as she pushed open the door.

The room was entirely empty. The curtains were drawn, as they had been for weeks, and the room itself was as morose and solemn as Cassie herself had been. A mere five minutes in such a place and even the happiest of persons would find nothing to smile about.

She shuddered delicately and backed out of the room as quickly as she could.

Out in the hall, she frowned and placed her hands on her hips. If Cassie was not in her room, there was no telling where she might have gone, except she would stay indoors. Were they in the country, she might have walked about aimlessly for hours bemoaning her situation, but in the busy and Society-flooded London, she wouldn’t risk being seen in such a state.

Her sister might have been an emotional and flighty creature, but she wasn’t one to put on a show merely to gain attention.

For the public, at least.

Mary had seen a great many performances in her time.

She checked her own bedchamber, not that Cassie venturing in there was likely, but since Mary had acquired a few gowns that Cassie had envied greatly, it was possible, but that too was empty.

The other bedrooms, all typically empty but kept in readiness, were as vacant as they ever were.

She huffed in irritation and made her way down the stairs, frowning as she considered where to go next.         She ought to just move on to a different project. One that would not require her sister’s assistance.

She shook her head. This needed to be done at some point, and it might as well be done today. If Cassandra was so involved in her perpetual mourning that she couldn’t assist in the preparations that Mary was undertaking to remove her to the country for a more private recovery, then all of the decisions would be made by Mary herself and very quickly, and they would be gone as soon as possible.

Mary took in a breath, and then released it slowly. She shouldn’t be so quick to judge her sister, not when such a tragedy truly had occurred. It would have been difficult for any woman, and Cassandra had long proved that she was more emotional than the average woman.

She turned towards the back of the house, only to find Mrs. Evansdale sitting in a chair outside of the drawing room, her face in her hands.

“Mrs. Evansdale?” Mary cried softly, coming to her knees before her. “Whatever is the matter?”

The woman sniffled and raised her head, her plump cheeks red and stained with tears. “Miss Cassie h-has a visitor.”

That was not the reply that Mary had expected.

“That is lovely,” Mary said, choosing her words with care and keeping her voice calm. “Who is it?”

Mrs. Evansdale’s lower lip quivered and she shook her head. She waved her handkerchief at the drawing room, where the door was very slightly ajar.

Mary restrained a sigh, and rose, moving to the room softly.

She shouldn’t intrude upon her sister’s privacy, but if she must…

She had to cover her mouth to keep from gasping at the sight.

Very rapidly she backed away, until the stairs met her back. She met Mrs. Evansdale’s eyes, and found herself wanting to cry as well.

“Send for Geoffrey Harris,” Mary whispered, her voice choking in her throat.

Mrs. Evansdale hiccupped, but nodded.

“Now!” Mary hissed, smiling.

The woman nodded instantly and darted away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Mary clamped her lips together, and then felt giggles bubble up within her. She couldn’t wait to see Geoff’s face when he found out.

Geoff grinned as he approached Mary’s house mere minutes after receiving the message that she needed to see him at once.

He had been waiting for this message for two days now.

He didn’t wait for the carriage to completely stop before he stepped out and strode up to the door of her house, keeping his expression devoid of emotion. He knocked swiftly, and only had to wait a moment before Winston, with his inexorably good timing, opened the door for him and bade him enter.

Mary waited for him by the stair, her hands mangling each other in front of her, her teeth clamping down on her lip so fiercely she was likely to draw blood.

“What’s the to-do, Goose?” he asked lightly. “Your note was rather cryptic, even for you.”

She put a finger to her lips and waved him after her as she turned towards the back of the house.

He hid his smile and obediently followed.

They came to the drawing room door, which was open just enough for one to look in without being noticed.

“Who are you spying on this morning, Mary?” Geoff whispered, grinning.

She waved him into silence, her eyes widening, but he could see her fighting a grin. She pointed into the room and tilted her head in invitation.

He came over to her side and looked in.

Cassie sat in a chair by the fire, as she had done so many other days, but this morning, a man knelt before her. He was clasping her hands in his, then reached out to stroke one cheek, bringing a smile and a few tears to her face.  He couldn’t see the man’s face, but the uniform upon his back and the tenderness in Cassandra’s gaze told him everything he needed to know.

Lieutenant Simon Wyndham, not so very dead after all, had come again.

And if he had any understanding of men at all, there would be an engagement very shortly.

As if his thought had been said aloud, Cassandra suddenly burst into tears, frantically nodding, unable to speak. Simon kissed her hands, then rose and gathered his beloved into his arms.

It was a sight that stirred something within him, and he glanced down at the woman he loved, pressed almost entirely against his side as she watched the scene with him. He swallowed with more difficulty than he would have liked to admit.

“True love conquers all once more,” he murmured so only she could hear, his eyes raking over any part of her they could see, hungry for such a scene himself.

She was not immune to the warmth in his tone, nor their position. Slowly her eyes came up to meet his, and in them he found the breathlessness that he was feeling. Her eyes had always and would ever be his favorite feature of hers. Not that he would ever tell her, but they held every expression in them, every emotion, every thought. And at this moment, he could not possibly comprehend all of the emotions he saw swirling in their beauty.