He reached for his sword and buckled it on. “I am going out, Cassie. Perhaps by the time I have returned, you will have come to your senses.”
“Edward, I have come to my senses.” She rose to face him. “I am sailing next week for England. I know you cannot accept my reasons, but my mind is made up. I hope you can forgive me, Edward.”
He seemed suspended for a moment by the finality in her voice. He turned on his heel without answering her, and walked from the room.
“You’ll be the most beautiful lady at the general’s ball,” Mrs. Beatty said, her thin voice enthusiastic as she gently tugged two thick curls over Cassie’s bare shoulder. “’Tis wise that you do not cover your hair with that nasty powder. It’s all the rage, I know, but such a mess it makes. At least it’s not raining anymore. March is a saucy month. Not like July. Now that’s the time to shut all the shutters to stay cool.”
Cassie smiled absently at Mrs. Beatty’s speech, content to let her cluck on as she worked, as was her habit.
Mrs. Beatty helped Cassie step into a pale blue silk gown, the only one she had brought from Genoa at all suitable for a formal gathering. “Och, it’s tight across your bosom, m’lady and that part of you can’t be sucked in.”
Cassie stared at herself in the long, narrow mirror. Her breasts blossomed above the tiny row of white lace that gathered above the plunging bodice. She tried to tug it upward, but the stiff stomacher held the gown rigidly in place. She sighed. At least her waistline did not yet tell a tale.
Mrs. Beatty chuckled knowingly. “Captain Lord Delford will have to slap the gentlemen’s hands, m’lady. They’ll be like bees to the honey pot.” As Cassy gazed up, appalled by this thought, Mrs. Beatty hastened to add, “Just a manner of speaking, m’lady. Do not fret yourself.” She stopped her monologue to a halt and drew her sandy brows together. “The captain told Mr. Beatty that you would be leaving for England next week. It’s sad that you must be parted so soon.”
Cassie was careful that her eyes did not meet Mrs. Beatty’s. “It is likely that the captain will return to England in the summer. General Howe has requested that he stay on in New York for the present.” Actually, Cassie wasn’t at all certain what plans Edward had made, if, indeed, he had yet made any. Since their conversation three days ago, Edward had tried to remonstrate with her, but Cassie had remained steadfast. It seemed to her that, finally, Edward was occasionally allowing himself to be relieved. When she had teasingly pointed out how lucky he was to have such a narrow escape from a shrewish woman, his tight reserve loosened, and for a brief moment, he smiled crookedly. But he was worried for her, thinking, she knew, about what her life would be like when she returned to England and to Hemphill Hall. Because he was troubled, she forced laughter into her voice when she was with him. He spent all his time with her, save at night. Whilst they were eating luncheon at a barge restaurant docked off Brooklyn Heights, she unwisely broached the subject of how Edward was going to court Jenny when much of New York believed him to be married.
“I believe, Cass,” he said coolly, “that that will be my problem. I will muddle through it, as I always do.” She sensed that he had given it thought. She was quite confident that Jenny, if not Edward, would contrive something suitable.
Cassie turned at the sound of Major John Andre’s laughing voice in the sitting room. Even when he was enjoying a good joke, his voice sounded husky, as if in case a lady were within hearing. Mrs. Beatty draped a white shawl over Cassie’s shoulders and shuffled to the bedchamber door to open it.
“Now you enjoy yourself, m’lady. I was telling Mr. Beatty just the other day that you were looking a trifle peaked, but you certainly don’t tonight.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Beatty, for your assistance.” She smiled toward the sitting room. “With two such amusing gentlemen, I am certain to enjoy myself.”