Page 30 of The Raven’s Lady

Cassie concealed a smile. Her grandmama, who gave the impression of finding ordinary mortals quite beneath her notice, rarely missed anything. Grandmama was right that Sir Adrian’s ambitious marriage plans did not include their neighbors’ daughters, but she did not guess that he desired to marry Lady Amabel Haydon. Nor would Grandmama imagine that Sir Adrian felt the besotted sort of love that could get one’s heart broken. That was the worry. If he did get his heart broken, Cassie was sure he would leave Verwood without a backward glance. That unsettling possibility had occupied her thoughts throughout her bath. Without the income from his rent, they would once again have to rely on Grandmama’s jointure and the allowance from Cassie’s trust. They would be strapped, wearing old gowns, and making no trips to London. If Hermes could run, maybe they would not need a tenant who had given his heart away.

Cassie poured a cup of tea and took it to her grandmother.

“What else is his leasing of Verwood?” her grandmother asked. “It’s his grand scheme to rise in the world. What does his family make? Mustard?”

“That’s the Colman family, Lottie,” Honoria commented. “Sir Adrian is a Cole. They make fire engines and plate glass.”

“Colman, Cole, neither name has an ounce of distinction. He depends upon being a tenant of Verwood to make his mark in society.”

Cassie raised a brow. The sharpness of her grandmother’s displeasure surprised her. “The Lavenham’s once had undistinguished name, until our ancestors found royal favor.”

Honoria gave a gleeful chortle and drew a glare from Grandmama.

“I’m sorry Sir Adrian disappointed you, Grandmama,” Cassie said, trying to head off a full blown quarrel. “I’m sure he had no idea that he was expected to offer me a place in his carriage. I didn’t think to ask him. You know how I like my walks.”

Cassie passed a cup of tea to Honoria and rose to hand round the plate of Cook’s fragrant rout cakes. It was true that her grandmother’s favoring Sir Adrian did him no harm in their neighbors’ eyes, but it was unlike Grandmama to insist on Cassie’s accepting a ride from him. The affront to Grandmama’s pride at Sir Adrian for not offering the ride seemed at odds with her usual condemnation of his presumption. Clearly, Sir Adrian could not win.

For a few minutes the ladies enjoyed their tea and cakes. Cassie imagined that in other households Sir Adrian’s would-be hostesses were planning their menus and their guest lists, thinking up ways to distinguish their offerings from those of their rivals. Mrs. Montford, the vicar’s wife, who was to take the lead was probably wondering whether Sir Adrian was fond of an oyster-stuffed roast leg of mutton, or whether he would prefer braised turkey. Cassie smiled at the challenge of it, how to please Sir Adrian and still remain memorable after all the other ladies had their turn at entertaining their new wealthy neighbor.

“May we speak of something else?” Cassie asked.

“Oh yes, let’s,” Honoria pleaded.

“Very well,” said Grandmama. “What would you speak of?”

Cassie set down her cup. There was no easy way to begin. “Hermes.”

Grandmama frowned. Honoria froze, her hands caught in the fringe of her shawl. Silence prevailed while the last daylight faded from the sky, and shadows bloomed in the corners of the room. The teacup in Cassie’s hand cooled.

“Well, have your say, girl,” her grandmother said at last.

Cassie took a steadying breath. “Hasn’t Hermes been punished enough for an accident that was not his fault?”

“Punished? Is that what you think? He lives very well, mind you. It’s all green pastures and freedom for him.”

“But he was born to run, wasn’t he? He’s young yet. If you began training him, Grandmama, he could run again.”

“Foolish girl. What do you know about preparing a horse to run?”

“I know Hermes was meant to win races. Meant to establish the Verwood stud.”

“You’ve not been speaking to that Crockett woman, have you? Or Snell? He knows my thinking. He would never go against my wishes.”

“I don’t need Snell to tell me that if Hermes won a few purses, gentlemen would bring their mares to Verwood, hoping to breed a champion, and the stud could pay for itself again.”

For a moment her grandmother said nothing. Cassie held her breath.

Her grandmother stood, and let her gaze sweep the small sitting room. “Leasing Verwood was your idea, Cassandra. Do not blame me or my horses for finding yourself confined to these narrow walls.”

“I don’t, Grandmama. I blame only myself. The accident was my fault, not the fault of Hermes. And I have let my situation hold us all back far too long.”

“Oh Cassie, no.” Honoria twisted the ends of her shawl. “You mustn’t say so. You mustn’t go back to that dark time.”

Cassie turned to Honoria. “Don’t worry, Aunt. I see clearly now what happened that night.”

“You do?” Honoria asked.

Cassie nodded. She had no recollection of hitting her head that night, but she knew perfectly how her foot had come to be broken. “What happened then matters less than what we do now.” She turned back to meet her grandmother’s fierce gaze. “Neither Hermes, nor I, are what we once were. If he proves manageable enough for me to ride, will you train him, Grandmama? I know you would like to see him run again.”