Major Andre whistled softly under his breath. “Good God, Edward, it’s a close eye you’ll have to keep upon your lady this evening. You are a vision to a starved man, Lady Delford.”
“She is passable, I suppose,” Edward said as he took her hand.
“Thank you, Major Andre, Edward. I hope I have not keep you gentlemen waiting overlong.”
“Not at all, Lady Delford.” Major Andre glanced curiously toward Edward. If Cassie were his wife, he thought, he would not let her out of his sight or his bed, much less let her leave for England alone. His gaze lingered on her thick golden hair, and his fingers fairly itched to touch it.
Cassie supposed that Major Andre was accompanying them because there was no available carriage to carry them from the King George Inn to Kennedy House. At night, a lady escorted even by one gentleman was not sufficiently safe in many parts of the city.
This March night was cool, and the sky was clear. There was a light breeze from the river, and Cassie was reminded briefly of Genoa. But there were no fragrant flowers, no silvery moon casting its soft glow over the Mediterranean. She closed her eyes an instant, chiding herself, and turned her attention to the gentlemen.
The walk to Kennedy House was pleasant, for Major Andre was an amusing conversationalist. Cassie found herself laughing more than once at his droll comments, many of the more sarcastic ones about General Clinton.
“The general likes to fancy that he is riding in the Quorn,” he said, his voice full of irony. “This morning, he insisted upon tearing down the middle of Broadway, pretending he was in the midst of the hunt. Had I the time, I would have trapped a wretched fox and placed him in the general’s path. That would have shaken the old fool, I imagine. The New Yorkers were rather taken aback by his antics, I assure you.”
Cassie laughed. “I look forward to meeting your commander, Major Andre.”
“To you, Lady Delford, he will appear to be all that is gracious. I only hope that he will have the good sense not to ogle you too openly and that you will have the good fortune not to have to dance with him. He is really as clumsy as he is boring.”
Although the evening was young, the long, rectangular ballroom set at the back of Kennedy House was already thronged with scarlet-coated officers, ladies far more sumptuously gowned than Cassie, and New York gentlemen, their elaborately clad figures and powdered heads in hearty competition with the English officers. An orchestra of bewigged musicians was upon a dais at the far end of the room. Though there were few ornaments or decorations in the huge room, it was not difficult for Cassie to imagine herself, for a moment at least, back in England. Cassie gave over her shawl to a black maid, for all the windows were closed, and the press of people made the room quite warm.
With Edward at her side, she made her curtsy to General Howe. She smiled to herself when Edward introduced her to General Clinton, remembering Major Andre’s words. He was not all that was gracious. Indeed, his ogling, Cassie thought, forcing a prim smile to her lips, was more in the nature of a tentative leer. She wished she had not discarded her shawl, for the general’s eyes kept flitting to her bosom.
“Edward tells me you are leaving us next week, Lady Delford.”
“It is true, sir. I must return to England.” Although Cassie was not overly tall for a woman, General Clinton was overly short for a man, and her eyes met his bulbous nose.
General Clinton gave Edward a commiserating look. His pale eyes were set rather wide, and it was difficult to know specifically to whom he was speaking unless he looked at one directly. “The summer, Edward, the summer. We need you here now to drive those rebels into the wilderness.” He heaved a sigh that strained the buttons of his scarlet waistcoat. “We must all of us make sacrifices. The time will pass quickly, you will see. I ask to reserve your permission now for your lovely wife’s hand in a dance before she is besieged. Your servant, my lady,” he added, and bowed brightly, not to her face, but to her bosom.