Page 9 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)

They lapsed into silence after that as the carriage made its way back to Lady Fosberry’s estate in Hampstead Heath, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Sarah was no doubt dreaming of ballrooms and blue silk gowns, and Margaret was perhaps reliving the moment when handsome Lord Hayward had bowed over her hand.

Hattie rubbed her hands together to warm them.

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t …

But despite her best efforts, by the time they reached the front door hot, stinging tears were pressing against her eyelids.

She’d dreamed a thousand dreams about the moment she and Cass would meet again, and in the time it took to drive from Berkeley Square to Hampstead Heath all her girlish fancies had crumbled to dust.

Very well, then. She would cry, but she’d do it in the privacy of her own bedchamber. As soon as they were inside, she went directly to the staircase, but before she could make her escape, Lady Fosberry stopped her.

“A word in the drawing room, if you’d be so kind, Harriet.”

There was no kindness to be found inside her, only confusion and heartache. How could she have been so foolish as to think Cass would be pleased to see her? Never, in all the years they’d been friends, had he ever treated her so dismissively as he had this afternoon.

The look in his eyes, the coldness there?—

“Hattie, Lady Fosberry is speaking to you.” Margaret had reached the first-floor landing, but she paused and glanced over her shoulder, her worried blue gaze pausing on Hattie. “Go on. I’ll check on Sarah while you have a chat with Lady Fosberry.”

It seemed there was to be a chat, whether she wished it or not. Silently, she followed Lady Fosberry down the corridor to the drawing room, her feet dragging with every step.

“Sit down, dear.” Lady Fosberry waved a hand at the yellow silk settee. “Tea?”

“No, thank you, my lady.” The sooner this discussion was over the better, because it felt as if a lead ball was lodged in her stomach, and she wasn’t at all sure she wouldn’t cast up her accounts all over Lady Fosberry’s pretty, silk settee.

“Very well.” Lady Fosberry settled herself comfortably among the pillows before turning the direct gaze that was the scourge of the upper ten thousand on Hattie. “That meeting with Lord Windham was a bit awkward, was it not?”

Awkward? My, that was an optimistic interpretation.

Hattie let out a hollow laugh. “It was a good deal more than awkward, my lady. Lord Windham came as close to giving me the cut direct as I’ve ever seen.”

How had it come to this? It was one thing for Cass to break off their correspondence. It wasn’t proper, after all, for a single gentleman to write to a lady he was not betrothed to. At least, that was how she’d excused Cass’s sudden silence to herself.

But she knew better, now. The way he’d glared at her with those ice-cold eyes, it was as if he’d never seen her before, as if they’d never been friends.

Devastating would be a more appropriate word. Heartbreaking.

Lady Fosberry considered this and shook her head. “I don’t deny Lord Windham was startled to see you here in London, my dear, but I wouldn’t call it a cut direct.”

What did it matter what they called it? “I think…I think I’ve made a mistake coming here, my lady.”

She didn’t belong here. That had become painfully obvious after one glance at the fashionable young ladies in Cass’s party this afternoon. She wasn’t elegant or witty, and she didn’t know a thing about fashion.

Was it any wonder he’d stopped writing to her?

He must have found her quaint account of her quiet life unbearably dull.

Why, in her last letter to him she’d given a detailed description of the bluebells blossoming in the filtered sunlight of the oak grove behind the stables! She’d even drawn a picture of them.

It made her cringe to think of that letter now. How provincial he must find her!

If nothing else, this afternoon’s debacle had confirmed what she’d always suspected.

The best place for her was in her quiet little corner of Kent, mucking about in her gardens in her dusty boots and breathing the fresh country air. “I think it’s best if I return to Kent at once, my lady. I beg your pardon for causing you so much trouble.”

Lady Fosberry said nothing, only gazed at her, her expression giving nothing away.

Hattie squirmed under that direct gaze, but surely Lady Fosberry must see that her remaining in London was utterly out of the question. Just the idea of it made her stomach lurch with panic.

“My sisters may stay, if they like. There’s no reason for either of them to return to?—”

“Why did you come to London, Hattie?”

It was a simple enough question, but she found herself floundering for an answer. “Because he…because I…the scandal sheets…I thought perhaps I could help Cass.”

Now she’d said it aloud, it struck her as an absurd reason to come scurrying to London. She , help him ? He was an earl, for pity’s sake!

“I see. And you’ve changed your mind after one afternoon? You no longer wish to help Cass?”

“No! No, of course I do, but?—”

“My dear girl, I thought Cassian’s friendship meant more to you than that.”

“He…I…”

Dash it, here came the tears she’d tried so valiantly to suppress, spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks, her nose burning with them.

“His friendship means a great deal to me, my lady.” It meant everything, but it wasn’t as if she could remain friends with Cass against his will.

“But he doesn’t appear to feel the same way. ”

Lady Fosberry’s expression softened. “On the contrary, Hattie. He felt a great deal.”

“I don’t know why you think so.” Hattie plucked at her skirts, avoiding Lady Fosberry’s eyes. “He hardly spared me a glance.”

“I don’t deny it. He deliberately avoided looking at you.”

Well, that was plain enough. Just like that, any lingering hope that she’d somehow misread Cass’s reaction evaporated in a puff of smoke. “He made his sentiments regarding our friendship quite clear.”

“My dearest girl!” Lady Fosberry laid a hand over hers, stilling her restless fingers. “A gentleman does not make such a point of not meeting the eyes of a lady for whom he feels nothing.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but I still think it’s best if I leave.”

“Very well, Hattie, if you insist upon it, then I’ll send you back to Kent tomorrow in my coach. But first, I wish to tell you something.”

Dear God, what now? But she could hardly refuse. “Yes, of course.”

“I warn you it’s not a happy tale.” Lady Fosberry drew in a deep breath.

“By all accounts the Earl of Windham’s first son was a sickly child.

The earl was in constant terrors he’d expire, so when he got his housemaid with child, he married the girl to ensure his second son could inherit the earldom, if it came to it. ”

“How dreadful. He sounds quite calculating.”

“He was, indeed. The previous earl was a man of neither warmth nor decency. He married the girl, then promptly abandoned her and her son. Despite the marriage, Cassian and his mother never lived with him. He paid them no mind at all until his elder son’s health took a dangerous turn. Cassian’s mother was dead by then.”

“That must have been when Cass came to Kent.” It was all falling into place now. Cass’s deep resentment when he arrived, and his bitterness toward his father.

“Yes. The earl plucked him out of St. Giles and sent him to his old friend Lord Balfour in Chatham. Balfour was meant to keep an eye on him until Cass’s half-brother either recovered or died.”

“And he died.” The child had died, and Cass’s fate was sealed.

“The lad held on for a few months, but yes, he eventually succumbed, the poor thing. Cassian became the heir, and I can assure you, my dear, being the Earl of Windham’s heir was no easy task.

Cassian was still quite young when he was turned over to his father’s care.

It must have been confusing for him, and I dare say his father has since filled his head with poison. ”

“How terrible.” Was it any wonder Cass was no longer the sweet, affectionate boy he’d once been?

“I don’t know Cassian well,” Lady Fosberry went on, “But there is some indication he’s following in his father’s footsteps. There has been some, ah, unfortunate behavior?—”

“The wagering, drinking and brawling, you mean. Yes, Alice Weatherby wrote Sarah all about it. According to Alice, Cass is as wicked an earl as London has ever seen.”

“Perhaps, but I haven’t yet given up on Cassian. Lord Hayward is a good soul, and he’s loyal to his friend. If Cassian were beyond hope, Lord Hayward would long since have washed his hands of him. Still, I daresay Lord Windham could use as many true friends as he can find.”

Lady Fosberry spoke carefully, her tone neutral, but the words echoed deep inside Hattie nonetheless, like a bell that continues to ring long after it’s struck.

And after all, wasn’t part of this merely her wounded pride?

She had hoped Cass would be thrilled to see her, that he’d welcome her with open arms. But he hadn’t, and here she was, ready to scurry back to her safe little nook in the country.

After more than a decade of friendship, would she give up on Cass so easily?

Lady Fosberry was right. That wasn’t what a true friend would do.

It was what a coward would do.

“My dearest Hattie, I don’t say this to make you ashamed of yourself, so please do endeavor not to look quite so stricken, would you?”

She dashed a hand across her cheek and produced a watery smile for Lady Fosberry. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

“Nonsense, my dear.” Lady Fosberry patted her hand. “I do understand your reticence, you know. It’s quite a task you’ve undertaken, but you’ve come this far, and I think you’ll be disappointed in yourself if you give up so easily.”

She was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door, and a moment later Watkins, Lady Fosberry’s butler came in. “This came for you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Watkins.” Lady Fosberry scanned the thick, cream-colored card. “Ah, it seems the ton knows I’ve returned to Town. Word does travel quickly, does it not? Lady Farthingale has invited us to her garden party tomorrow morning.”

“A garden party?” That didn’t sound too terrifying.

“Yes. Lady Farthingale’s garden party is one of the most coveted invitations of the season.

She’s famous for her lilacs, you see, and there’s a lovely lilac walk on the grounds of her estate.

It’s a tradition for each gentleman to invite a lady to stroll amongst the lilacs with him.

” Lady Fosberry raised an eyebrow. “Shall I accept for the four of us, or just for myself and your sisters?”

“I suppose it won’t hurt to remain for another few days, if you think it will help Cass.”

After that cold, dismissive look he’d given her, she didn’t have much hope her presence would make any difference to him, but if she stayed, then she wouldn’t have to reproach herself for being such a coward.

“I do think so. Indeed, I think…” Lady Fosberry’s smile dimmed. “I think you may be the only person in England who can help Cass now.”