She flung herself back into the squabs, her miserable expression sending Aunt Iris into a bout of nervous fluttering. Jenny, who hated to see her aunt like this, vaulted into action.
“Nonsense, Cassandra. He signed your card right off, didn’t you tell me so yourself? No doubt he was disappointed to miss a second dance with you, but he does have obligations.”
The words were automatic, soothing words that were not exactly lies but rosy suppositions to encourage her cousin away from hysterics. She knew how to assuage the rising temper, but this time, it was difficult to pretend.
“You are making this far worse than it is,” she said, soothing the girl, but Cassandra shook her head, refusing to believe it.
As soon as they were home, she told Aunt Iris to go on to bed and that she would see to Cassandra. She ushered her upstairs, leaving strict instructions with a maid to bring fresh water, and when she’d gotten Cassandra undressed, she sat next to her with cool cloths for her face.
“You mus
tn’t get overexcited,” she said. She sounded like herself, calm, reasonable, but she wasn’t feeling at all normal. She’d always thought of Cassandra first. Tonight she was thinking of herself, how she longed to be alone and reflect upon the fantastic things that had happened tonight.
Cassandra stubbornly refused to be consoled until Jenny said, “What if the earl calls tomorrow? Would you wish him to see you with your eyes all swollen and reddened from sobbing all night long?”
With this enticement, Cassandra managed to get hold of herself. She sniffed, giving Jenny the pathetic look that had always been effective in getting her way. “I cannot help it. I love him, Jenny. I do. I am mad for him. I cannot bear it if he found another.”
Jenny froze. The words were like a slap. She hadn’t thought it was so serious.
No. It could not be true. Cassandra flirted. She was dramatic and prone to exaggeration. She was like a child with a toy when a new man interested her—she was thrilled for a while, then forgot all about it when a shiny new trinket presented itself. With suitors, she liked the attention, and each new face was a conquest that once won, faded quickly.
She absolutely could not be in love with Miles. Because, Jenny just now realized, she was in love with him herself.
Sitting back, she thought about this. The idea was stunning and frightening. What could be a worse disaster than she and her cousin wanting the same man?
“You are very sweet to me,” Cassandra said, her hysteria subsiding. “I am sorry I was cruel to you. I was jealous. Silly, isn’t it? I do not know what I was thinking, only that I was nearly insane with frustration when he spoke to anyone else.”
“This is too much, Cassandra. It is not natural to be so obsessed.”
“I know, I know.” She looked like a child, her eyes wide and penitent, and Jenny felt a rush of affection. Cassandra was so impulsive that she never saw the predictable consequences.
“You must not treat him like the bucks who trip over themselves for the tiniest favor of your smile. You cannot expect the same puppylike devotion. The earl is a much different sort.”
“Yes, you are right, of course. But, Jenny, I am desperate to have some word from him of his feelings. He compliments me and squires me around, yet he speaks no word of his heart. Sometimes I think he is merely being polite, and I couldn’t bear that, Jenny.”
She began to sob again, then remembered about her swollen face on the morrow and quickly sobered. “I will die if he does not return my feeling. I swear, I cannot bear it if he chooses someone else. I will fling myself from London Bridge.”
“Hush now,” Jenny hissed, truly angry. “Just talking of that sort of thing will give your mother apoplexy.”
“I will. I cannot bear it.”
“Do not worry now. It is only one ball. Silly girl, you are getting yourself all in a state over nothing. You will see, he will be here tomorrow, and you will be ashamed of yourself for carrying on so when it is probably nothing.”
A combination of firmness and comfort worked best, Jenny had found, but she could not help feeling a cruel person indeed to talk with false encouragement of Miles when she had kissed him tonight.
A harsh shiver rippled over her flesh, remembering the feel of his mouth, his long body rock hard up against hers.
She would never in her life forget that kiss. It had done something to her, woken up some part of her, peeled back her skin to expose tender, pulsing feelings that she never suspected she’d possess.
Why did this have to be the man Cassandra wanted—or thought she wanted?
What had she done?
All of her earlier happiness faded. She closed her eyes and drew in one long, shaking breath. She had been wrong to allow the earl’s attentions.
It had to end, even if it broke her heart.
Chapter Seven