He touched her upper arm just below the puffed sleeve of her blue gown and stroked his thumb back and forth. “We seem to fall into a natural rhythm when we’re together.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Then the dance promises to be more than pleasing.”
He smiled. But as she moved away from him to join Scarlett and Verity, a sudden panic took hold. “Like any protective husband, I pray you’ll be careful.”
Wycliff cleared his throat. “May I ask a question before you venture to the ladies’ room?”
“Of course.” Cassandra smiled.
“What did your father do when it was time to leave Lord Craven’s ball and he couldn’t find you?”
Lips pursed, Cassandra looked to the ceiling. After a brief time, she said, “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s not a man who converses civilly. But he would have left without saying a word, out of fear of ruining my reputation.”
“And what did he say when Benedict brought you home?”
Benedict was curious as to Wycliff’s train of thought.
“Worthen didn’t stop ranting from the moment we entered the study. He blamed me, had convinced himself I was responsible.” The earl had been a tad more colourful with his words.
“My father believes we planned my disgrace so I could marry Benedict. Someone told him we were in love, and he suspected we’d eloped. But when Benedict initially refused to marry me, it put paid to his theory.”
“I see.”
“When he left the ball, did your father call at Benedict’s house in Jermyn Street?” Trent enquired. “That would be the obvious place to look if he suspected you were together.”
Cassandra stared blankly.
Benedict frowned. That hadn’t occurred to him either. Since taking Cassandra for his bride, his mind was somewhat addled. “No. Mrs Rampling would have informed me had Worthen called.”
“Well, perhaps it’s of no consequence. Indeed, who can say what goes through a distraught father’s mind.” Wycliff turned to Scarlett. “I shall remain here until you’ve finished in the retiring room.” His dark gaze slid over his wife’s body. “Perhaps you might like to waltz with your husband, too.”
Scarlett arched a brow. “You know I would.”
They watched their wives cut through the throng and disappear into the crowd.
As soon as the ladies were out of view, Trent said, “Do you not find Worthen’s actions rather odd?”
“Everything about the pompous lord defies understanding.”
Wycliff folded his arms across his chest. “If Worthen truly believed you were together, then your house should have been his first port of call. If he truly believed you’d eloped, then surely he would have taken to the Great North Road. Checked the coaching inns en route.”
“The earl spouts vile nonsense most of the time.” Benedict had heard enough over the years to close his ears to it now. “He derives power from hurling false accusations.” Which was why he had not given the matter another thought.
“So who told the earl you and Cassandra were in love? Someone out to make trouble?”
Benedict shrugged. “I’ve every faith Worthen concocted the tale. Or perhaps the person who had me arrive at the Serpentine before Purcell and his ilk sought to stir the cooking pot. Whoever it was based their opinion on mere supposition.”
What other explanation was there?
No one knew Benedict’s inner thoughts.
No one knew he had never stopped loving Cassandra Mills.
Chapter Thirteen
“Your mother is looking for you, my dear.” Scarlett cupped the elbow of the only young lady using the retiring room and guided her towards the door. “Indeed, I am certain Lady Murray said her son wishes to dance with you.”
The lady’s innocent eyes widened, and she batted her lashes before hurrying out into the hall.