Page 38 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“In my opinion, it is designed more for fashion than for comfort.”

Eugenia chuckled, and her companion joined in.

“Why, of course. It is the showpiece of the home—a reflection of its mistress. What impression does your drawing room give about the lady of the house?”

“None.”

“None? Then your wife has no say in the decoration of your drawing room? Shame on you, Mr Hunt,” she said, twitting Jethro’s chest with her fan in a flirtatious manner.

Cassandra feared what his next words might be and laced her arm through his. She hoped to goodness he would not pull away.

“You mistake my husband, Eugenia,” she said, gripping his arm tightly. “We have been married less than two months and are yet to turn our minds to the house. How long since you wed? Six months, or is it seven? You are to be congratulated. I am amazed you have achieved so much in such a short time.”

Eugenia gave a smug smile. “I don’t like to boast, but I do feel rather pleased with the way this room turned out.”

Cassandra breathed a little easier. Eugenia never had been able to resist flattery. It was a shame she had not remembered that last time they had met. But then, she had been alone.

With her husband beside her, Cassandra’s confidence had returned, and though Jethro was not helping with his abrupt behaviour, she felt more equipped to deflect Eugenia’s attacks.

“When we are ready to redecorate our drawing room, I will know where to turn for advice,” Cassandra said, causing her hostess to glow with pleasure.

The butler announced dinner and Eugenia looked about her, pairing up the guests according to precedence.

Cassandra clung to her husband’s arm, hoping she would not be required to partner another gentleman.

Eugenia shot her a smug look. “I see the newly married pair will not be parted. How quaint.”

Jethro growled under his breath. Fortunately, it was low enough that only Cassandra could hear.

“Smile,” she whispered.

He frowned, but when she sent an exaggerated grin in his direction, the corners of his mouth upturned a little in response. It wasn’t much of a smile, but at least Jethro didn’t look as if he wished he was somewhere else. Which was, she knew, the truth.

Dinner was as splendid as Cassandra had supposed it would be. Three courses with every delicacy imaginable were spread before them, one after the other, each with different wines.

Jethro drew some comment when, as was his custom, he refused a second glass, but apart from that, the meal passed without incident. Sat in the middle of the table, as far from Eugenia and her husband as was possible, there was no one to provoke Jethro or taunt his wife.

Cassandra fretted about how he would cope when the ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their port, but she soon realised she should have been worrying about herself, not her husband.

The flattery had worn off, and Eugenia reverted to her normal, spiteful self.

Before Cassandra could escape, her hostess had gathered all the women around her. “What do you say, ladies? Shall we push back the furniture and make our husbands dance with us? We’ll have to take it in turns as there’s only room for one set, but we must give the newest couple amongst us a chance to stand up with each other. It won’t be long before we’re all in the family way, and then our dancing days will be over—for a while, at least.”

The other ladies voiced their enthusiasm, but Eugenia’s gaze did not waver from Cassandra’s face.

“What do you say to a dance, Mrs Hunt?”

“You forget, I’m still in mourning, Eugenia.”

“Oh fie, Cassandra. It’s been five months since your father died, and I’m sure he wouldn’t wish to deprive you of the chance to dance with your husband. It would not do at a public assembly, but this is a private party. We are all friends here. Unless, of course, you have another reason for objecting…”

Botheration. Eugenia had put her in an impossible position, and the sly smile on her lips suggested she was well aware of it. She thanked God that Xander had not married this awful woman. It would have been unbearable to have her as part of the family and be required to feign an affection for her she could never feel.

Though Cassandra wanted to decline out of respect for her father, it would be madness not to agree. If she refused, Eugenia would titter and make it appear she would not dance because she was in a delicate condition, fanning the flames of the gossip already circulating.

But there was another consideration that gave her pause. What if she expressed her enthusiasm for Eugenia’s idea, and her husband declined to stand up with her? That would undo the good her own sacrifice made.

All eyes were fixed on her. She had to decide. “I would love to dance, provided you see no impropriety in it.” She hoped her voice sounded more certain than she felt.