Edward gave her a light shove toward a large rock where her clothing lay in a neat pile. “Get dressed,” he said roughly. “I trust you have a dry shift.”
“Yes, of course I do. Would you care to help me dress, Edward?” she asked, hoping to coax him out of a mood she did not understand.
“No. But I shall ensure that no other man comes along to see you naked.”
“But, Edward,” she said demurely, “we are on Brougham land. You are the only man who has ever come to the beach and seen me swimming. Which makes me wonder, my lord, do you often make it a habit to spy on young ladies? I will not believe you if you tell me that you recognized me immediately.”
Edward flushed, despite himself. Had she been a village girl, and willing, he was not at all certain what he would have done.
“Ah, Edward, you have become a rake, I see. Is that why you seem to care so much for indolent foreign ladies?”
“Cassie, you are a baggage. How do you know about such things as rakes? Surely Eliott would not discuss such matters with you.”
“You know that Eliott is twenty-two now, and no longer a boy. I have asked him again and again, but he will not tell me what he does when he goes to Colchester or to London. He always mumbles something about business, which I know is a lie.”
Cassie stripped off his riding coat and Edward turned away. “It would appear to me that you have been allowed to run wild since your father died.”
“Alas, it is true, but all I had to warm me at night were your rather infrequent letters. And from the beatific grin on Eliott’s face each time he returns from one of his jaunts, I would say that mere letters are hardly a fulfilling substitute.”
He smiled, but refused to be drawn. “I was sorry, Cass, to hear of your father’s death.”
“It was probably for the best,” she said matter-of-factly. “He had grown quite odd, you know, particularly during the past two years. I had the inescapable feeling that he tried to avoid me. It is Eliott’s opinion that I am too much like mother and that looking at me brought him pain. I think he always disliked me, because I killed mother.”
“Don’t be a fool, Cassie,” he said sharply, turning to face her.
“But she died birthing me, Edward, and she was but twenty-three. I become depressed every time I think about it.”
Edward did not immediately reply as he stared at her. She was seated on a rock, dressed in a light blue muslin gown, sashed tightly at her waist, fastening the strap of her sandal. He glimpsed a long white-stockinged leg before she whisked her dress down over her ankle.
She rose and gave him her hand. “Are you now more approving of my appearance, Lord Edward?”
“You are almost as beautiful as the fifteen-year-old girl I left three years ago.”
She gave him a dazzling smile. “And you, my lord, are still the most handsome gentleman of my acquaintance.” She appeared to inspect him closely, from head to toe. “I cannot decide which I admire more about you, your size or—” She cocked her head to one side.
“My height or?”
“Or your beautiful eyes,” she said promptly. She touched her fingertips gently to his cheek. “They are such a deep brown with golden flecks, just like your hair. I suppose that many ladies have told you that.”
“Perhaps one or two, but it meant very little to me.” His eyes softened on her face. “What did mean a great deal to me was receiving your letters. Your spelling is atrocious, Cass. Many a time I felt as though I were deciphering a military code.”
“Well, your letters, my lord, read for the most part like a campaign log. I have become quite adept at making salt and flour maps, so I knew where you were. Poor Becky could never figure out why I became such an avid student of geography.” She paused a moment and dug the toe of her sandal into the sand. “I many times had the feeling that you were not being altogether honest with me, Edward. I could never grasp what your life was like.”