Page 91 of Impetuous

“Thank you.”

Georgette hugged Cassandra, telling her that she was perfect for Philip and that she, Georgette, looked forward to being her sister. “Best of all, now Olivia can live with us all the time! I’ve been dying for years to have a sister, and now I have two. And two more brothers, as well!” She cast a laughing look at the twins. “Who will make excellent brothers, being such pests as they are on occasion.”

The twins, needless to say, took exception to her jest and paid her back by untying the sash of her dress, with the result that all four took off on a shrieking game of chase. Cassandra turned to find Sarah Yorke standing quietly at her side.

“Miss Verrere…” Sarah held out her hand. “I wanted to offer you my best wishes. I am sure you will make a lovely bride.”

She was smiling, but Cassandra detected a glimpse of sadness in Sarah’s eyes. Cassandra thought that she had been right about Sarah’s hidden liking for Philip, and she felt sorry for the woman.

“I hope that you and I will become good friends, now that I will be living here,” Cassandra told her sincerely.

“Yes, I do, too.” Sarah smiled at her again and turned away to offer her congratulations to Philip.

When she moved on, bidding him farewell, Philip came to Cassandra’s side. Smiling, he slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him. “I thought that went rather well, didn’t you?”

“Philip, I feel guilty about deceiving your mother—”

“Deceiving? In what way? We are engaged.”

“Not really. You never asked me. You just said that to appease Aunt Ardis.”

“Cassandra, I thought we had gone through all this before. I have intended to marry you from the moment we went down to the gazebo that night.”

“You have?”

“But of course. I knew what it would do to your reputation if it got out. What the consequences would be. When we left the garden, I knew I would offer for your hand.”

But what about love? Cassandra wanted to cry out, but of course she did not. She refused to press him for something that was worthwhile only if given freely.

“But it’s not necessary,” she said instead. “I knew what I was doing. I went into it freely.”

“So did I.” He looked down into Cassandra’s face, frowning. “Do you— Are you saying that you don’t want to marry me?”

Cassandra supposed that she ought to lie and tell him that she did not. But she could not bring herself to say it. “No,” she replied softly. “I do not mean that.”

“Good.” He bent and kissed her on the temple, murmuring, “One thing, my love, do not let my mother persuade you to name a wedding date very far away. I want to be married as soon as possible.”

She looked up into his gleaming eyes, and an answering heat started up in her loins. Perhaps she was wrong to marry him, knowing that Philip did not love her, but she knew that she was not strong enough to resist. She would marry him, hoping that she could bring him to love her, hoping that he would not regret it.

* * *

THEY SET OUT the following morning on foot, Cassandra and Philip and their four siblings, map in hand and leading a pony cart carrying several digging tools. Cassandra had drawn a new copy of the combined maps, which Philip carried now in his shirt pocket. She wore her oldest dress, as did Georgette and Olivia, and Philip had put on the sort of rough trousers and collarless shirt that the local farmers wore. Cassandra wondered what it was about the attire that made all her nerve endings come alive just looking at him. She had never had a similar reaction to any farmer she had met. But it did something to the pit of her stomach to see his bare forearms beneath the rolled-up sleeves and the V of chest that showed at the neck.

“There is Littlejohn Creek.” He gestured toward the brook in the distance.

“It looks much closer on the map,” his sister put in doubtfully.

“I don’t think Margaret Verrere drew the maps to scale,” he told her lightly. “But she put in the distances. That should make it much easier.”

The copse of trees was not where it was supposed to be, and they decided that it must have been felled by man or disease since the map was drawn. They continued along the road, but after some time they still had not found the large stone beside the road that was the last mark before the peat-cutter’s hut.

“Could the stone have been removed since then, too?” Cassandra asked worriedly.

“I don’t know. I don’t recall anything like that beside the road.” Philip frowned, shading his eyes with his hand to peer into the distance. “No sign of an old hut, either.”

“Don’t you think there would be ruins of both it and the wall? Perhaps we should strike out fifteen paces to the side of the road and search up and down until we come to the ruins.”

“We may have to.”