The Scandal Of The Season. Annie Burrows

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       Chapter Three

      Cassandra watched the Colonel stalk from the ballroom, her heart pounding and her limbs shaking. She couldn’t believe she’d spoken so sharply to him. She never stood up to anyone, or lost her temper, ever. But then he’d dragged her through so many strong emotions in such a short space of time. Perhaps that was what had made her lose self-control.

      To start with she couldn’t believe he would turn out to be so…unkind. She’d had such fond memories of him. He’d been the first man she’d ever looked at with any sort of romantic interest. And although he’d been far too mature and important to return that interest, she hadn’t held that against him. On the contrary, when he’d come to her rescue, several weeks after their initial meeting, he’d gone up in her estimation even higher. So much so that ever since, she’d thought of him as her hero. Her saviour. She’d never had the chance to thank him properly for what he’d done. And so she’d been really pleased to see him when he’d marched into the ballroom.

      Only to learn that he hadn’t done what she thought he’d done at all. Far from stepping in, and rescuing her from her folly, he thought he’d been rescuing Guy from her clutches. Those few curt words had shattered the bubble of pleasure in which she’d been floating, during these last few weeks since she’d come to London. No, come to think of it, he’d punctured her pleasure the moment he’d reached her side when he’d accused her of being up to her neck in mischief just as she’d been thinking how wonderful it was to be able to renew their acquaintance. Now that she was old enough to hope he might see her as a woman and not a silly schoolgirl.

      ‘What,’ said Rosalind, breaking through the turmoil of her reactions, ‘was all that about? Who was he? And aren’t you supposed to be smiling? Her Grace says we are always supposed to have a serene smile stuck to our lips no matter what, when we’re out in society.’

      Cassandra blinked. ‘Yes, of course, you are correct. Thank you for reminding me,’ she said, fixing the required smile in place.

      ‘Who is he? An old flame, or something?’

      ‘Not an old flame, no. But I did believe he’d been my friend. He was the only person, during the whole sorry episode, who did anything practical.’ He’d been like a rock. Standing firm in the midst of all the confusion on the quayside, the only one who seemed to know what was going on and having some control over it.

      ‘What sorry episode? And what did he mean about you scheming? Are we done for?’

      ‘I am so sorry, Rosalind,’ she said, turning to the girl, rather than continuing to gaze blankly at the door through which he’d just gone. ‘I did warn Godmama that things from my past might come back to haunt us, but she assured me that she could scotch all the rumours about the indiscretion, particularly since I committed it when I was scarcely more than a schoolgirl…’

      ‘Indiscretion?’ Rosalind’s eyes grew round with wonder. ‘You? And you always being held up as a pattern card for me to follow.’

      Yes, well, Cassandra had spoken to Godmama about that, too. But she’d brushed Cassandra’s concerns aside, reminding her that Rosalind needed to learn so much in the way of deportment and etiquette that advising her to mould herself on Cassandra would be the quickest way to effect the necessary transformation in the short time they had available.

      ‘After all, it is one of the reasons I brought you to Town, darling,’ she’d said. ‘So that you could help me school Miss Mollington into behaviour fitting someone who could marry a titled man.’

      Of course, Cassandra had felt that it was the least she could do to repay Godmama’s generosity and hard work in attempting to restore her reputation.

      ‘I am so sorry,’ said Cassandra. ‘You must be so disappointed…’

      ‘The only thing that will disappoint me is if you don’t, immediately, tell me all about it. What kind of indiscretion did you commit when you was a schoolgirl that could get a man like that in such a pother that he’d threaten to expose you?’

      ‘Not here,’ said Cassandra, who’d noticed that several people were looking their way, then looking at the door through which Colonel Fairfax had just marched, and then back at them again and then whispering behind their fans. ‘Come.’ She linked her arm through Rosalind’s and sauntered along until they reached the door to the terrace. There were a few people outside taking the air, but there was still plenty of places where they could talk without risk of being overheard.

      ‘Well?’ The moment they were out of earshot of the ballroom, Rosalind leaned back against the parapet, demanding an explanation. Cassandra rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She hated to have to let Rosalind down. Over the last few weeks, they’d become friends. Or the closest thing to friends that Cassandra had experienced for many years. Even though Rosalind was a bit rough around the edges, she had a generous nature and a warm heart. But now their friendship would all come to an end. The way friendships did at the first hint of trouble.

      But where to start? With the first ball she’d ever attended, where she’d first met Colonel Fairfax?

      No, for if she talked about that, she’d also have to go back further, to explain the complicated reasons why she’d gone there without her mother, and she didn’t want to go into all that right now. It would take too long to relate the story of how Lady Agatha, her closest thing to a friend back then, had decided it was high time she had a little fun and persuaded her own mother to let her join a party of local young people attending a benefit ball at the White Hart. Her stepfather had been not only too mean to wish to purchase three tickets to raise funds for the parish alms houses, but when Agatha’s father, the Earl of Spendlow, had offered to collect her in his own carriage and convey her home in it, too, Mama had timidly suggested that it would be a splendid way of helping her prepare for her eventual come-out, by experiencing a ball in unsophisticated surroundings, without incurring any expense whatever.

      She sighed as she thought of her younger self, walking into that ballroom arm in arm with Lady Agatha and being immediately besieged by a corps of scarlet-jacketed officers from her brother’s regiment. Guy, Agatha’s brother, had seen how wary she’d been of all those boisterous young men and had taken her under his wing. And she’d felt safe with him, for he’d treated her exactly the way he treated his own sister.

      There had been only one officer who hadn’t joined the mob, who hadn’t teased and flattered either her or Agatha. And that had been Colonel Fairfax. There was nothing frivolous or false about him, she’d decided, as the evening had progressed. He was fully in command of himself, unlike other men who became increasingly intoxicated the closer it drew to midnight.

      She’d begun to wish he’d ask her to dance, but he never did. She’d danced with the squire and the grocer’s son. And then, after a particularly energetic reel with the young blacksmith, she’d gone outside to get a breath of fresh air and cool down. He’d followed her outside. And told her that she was being foolish to do so, alone. And had escorted her inside, having made her feel wretchedly guilty.

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