She couldn’t run in any of the London shoes. To feel the earth beneath her feet was exactly what she needed.
“You can go now,” she told the maid. “I’ll be fine. I just… want to be alone.”
If the maid felt disapproval of Cassidy’s appearance, she didn’t dare show it. She curtsied again and went to the door. “If you need anything, miss, just ring.”
Cassidy realized how uncomfortable she felt with that automatic deference, the knowledge that the girl’s whole business was to wait on one person. But the maid wasn’t to blame. Cassidy smiled and nodded her thanks, lingering in the room until the maid’s footsteps faded away down the corridor.
Then she used all her senses to escape the house undetected. If Braden had been watching, she wouldn’t have managed it. But the few human servants she smelled nearby didn’t see her, because she didn’t want them to. She discovered a door at the rear of the house and slipped through, into a garden lush with the scent of flowers.
A lingering twilight hung over the hills and woods behind Greyburn, staining the garden’s foliage with pink and gold. The garden was large, well-kept, crisscrossed with stone and gravel paths perfect for peaceful afternoon walks. That wasn’t what Cassidy wanted. Her heart was already beating fast with anticipation, knowing that soon, if only for a little while, everything would be simple again.
She’d nearly reached the edge of the garden when she knew she wasn’t alone. The last person she wanted to meet now was Rowena, who would see calico and bare feet and judge Cassidy lacking with that regal, cultivated look of disdain.
But along with Rowena’s scent came a half-familiar and lonely sound, dry and rasping. Cassidy hesitated, and a piece of crumpled paper blew past her feet, catching at the base of a garden shrub.
Cassidy bent to retrieve it, reflexively smoothing out the paper.. There was writing on it, and words that were just like poetry. The letter was addressed to Rowena. “My Dearest,” it began, and spoke of “my love for you,” “great obstacles,” “cruel separation,” and “your brother’s irrational behavior.”
Before Cassidy could make out the signature, Rowena burst onto the path. Her ordinarily immaculate hair was in disarray, and her face was blotched with red.
Cassidy gaped and almost dropped the paper clenched in her hand.
The Lady Rowena Forster—refined, stylish and proper, ever-cool and condescending, member of the best London society—had been crying.
Seven
“Give it back,” Rowena snapped.
Still shocked by the change in Braden’s sister, Cassidy complied. Rowena snatched the sheet from her hand and smoothed it out just as Cassidy had done. Her slender fingers were trembling, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes with the slightest blink. For a moment all her attention was focused on the letter, and then she seemed to realize that she was being observed. Her head jerked up, further loosening the pins in her hair. Golden curls tumbled onto her shoulders.
“How dare you read my letter,” she said, without any real force, as if she spoke only out of habit. Or to protect the fragments other shattered dignity.
To someone like Rowena, the loss other flawless mask would be terrible. Cassidy was glad she’d never had any to lose.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She meant it sincerely, and felt a genuine stab of pity. Rowena’s obvious unhappiness touched her in a way the older woman’s cool advice and grudging acceptance hadn’t. It was something Cassidy understood. “I didn’t mean to look at it.”
Rowena sniffed and tried to compose her features into calm disinterest. “How much did you see?” she asked.
“That it was written to you,” Cassidy admitted. “From someone who—” She paused, remembering the poetic language and sweet endearments. “Someone who loves you.”
‘Rowena’s mask crumpled again, and she turned sharply aside. “Will you tell Braden?”
Puzzled, Cassidy shook her head. “Tell him what?” she asked. “Why are you crying?”
The sound Rowena made was not quite a laugh. “Is it possible that you still don’t know?” Her gaze turned inward, and when she glanced at Cassidy again there was a strange gleam in her eyes. “So Braden hasn’t explained everything to you yet. How remiss of him.” Her mouth curled as if she’d tasted something bitter. “And how unfair to you. Poor child.”