Page 87 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“What a shame we can’t hear what they’re saying,” she said. “Do you think they’re talking of the weather, or are they whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears?”

“Ha! Sweet nothings, of course, from Mr Frampton at least. ‘Your voice is as beautiful as the seagulls singing over the water.’”

“‘And you, my love, are as handsome as your bank balance,’” Cassandra said, mimicking Eugenia.

“That handsome? My, my.”

Cassandra’s grip on his arm tightened as a third figure joined the Framptons in the picture moving in front of them.

“That’s him—the man who’s been watching me.”

Jethro furrowed his brow. “Hmm. That’s worrying.” Was he employed by Frampton? But for what purpose? Was he trying to wheedle his way into his business through his wife? Could it have something to do with Mr Wade’s imminent visit? If so, it did not bode well.

“What’s bothering you?” Cassandra asked. “Tell me. Would it help to share what is on your mind?”

He hesitated. Should he open up to his wife about his concerns? He didn’t want to worry her unduly. But maybe she was right, and talking about it would bring some clarity.

They went outside into the daylight, and after they had walked a short distance from the Camera Obscura, Jethro spoke.

“If that man is spying on you and meeting with the Framptons, it confirms my fear that the investment in my company is not secure. When we dined at Mr Frampton’s house, he mentioned Mr Wade after you ladies had left the room. Perhaps he employed the spy to gather information about us, intent on sending bad reports to Mr Wade, to blacken my name.”

He paced up and down as he continued to speak. “If I don’t get the investment I need, it puts us in a rather tricky position. I’ve signed the contract to purchase the ships, and I’ve had to mortgage the house as surety. If Mr Wade invests his money elsewhere—”

“Why should you think that? He’s been investing in your company for so long, why would he withdraw his support now?”

“That’s a good point, but why is he coming to Weymouth to visit me when he’s never shown the slightest interest in doing so before? He has even avoided meeting with me on the few occasions I’ve been up to London. It’s as if he was happy to give me his money—but only at a distance.”

Cassandra shrugged. “Perhaps he wishes for a closer partnership. People are allowed to change.”

“Maybe. But seeing that man with Frampton does nothing to reassure me. It makes me anxious, and I can’t rule out the possibility that he will try to get to me through you. You’re not to wait for the livery to arrive. I don’t want you to go out without a footman in tow.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin for as long as he dared.

“Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Because I love you.

But he couldn’t find the courage to say the words aloud, afraid that his wife wouldn’t want to hear them.

Chapter 47

Cassandra was aware of the change at once. Wherever she went, the younger footman, Martin, was sure to go. She was pleased Jethro had listened to her and not assigned some stranger to follow her about, and it did not prove as irksome as she had feared. If she was honest, she rather liked the added consequence it gave her—especially after the livery she had chosen arrived.

She had been so used to managing on her own, when finances at the rectory had become strained, that she had forgotten how pleasant it was to have someone always there to open doors for her and carry her parcels.

The other alteration in her routine brought even greater satisfaction. Jethro spent more time in her company, reading aloud to her in the drawing room after dinner, while she worked on her embroidery, and occasionally accompanying her for a walk.

Cassandra took longer over her appearance, hoping to elicit one of Jethro’s rare compliments. She knew it was vain, but in the absence of any warmer sentiments, admiration was the best she could hope for.

One morning, she sat at her dressing table daydreaming while Mary Ann pinned up her hair. What was it Jethro had said to her once? That caps suited her. Which one of her myriad of lacy confections had she been wearing that day?

She had a sudden yearning to find it. If Jethro had admired her in it once, perhaps he would again. Cassandra opened the bottom drawer of her dressing table and rummaged through the contents, but she could not locate it, and was forced to abandon the search, or be late for breakfast.

She continued looking later that morning. This time, she was more thorough. She scooped out the entire contents of the drawer onto her lap, running her hands along the back and sides to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind.

As her fingers ran against the wood at the back of the drawer, they touched on something cold. It was small and hard. What was that? It was definitely not made of ribbon or lace.

It felt like a key, but it was stuck. With a wiggle and a yank, she pulled it free and laid it on the lacy pile in front of her.

How strange. Why would there be a key hidden at the back of the drawer? Could it be something to do with Jethro’s mother? The dressing table had once been hers.