not use them to her advantage, instead gazing at the world in a straightforward, clear way that did not lure men.
So she had retired from the social world after one year, not really displeased that she had not made a successful marriage. She had done the season as a duty for her family. They were, as always, in desperate need of money, and she would have gritted her teeth and said yes if an eligible man had asked for her hand. But she had found no man during the year of her debut whom she had accounted as anything but boring, and she was, frankly, quite glad to return to the bosom of her family at Chesilworth unengaged and unlikely ever to be so. With relief, she had donned her old clothes, wound her hair up into the familiar bun and jumped back into the management of her father’s household, which had fallen into a woeful state in her absence. She found contentment in raising her younger brothers and sister, and intellectual companionship with her father, and if there was anything missing in her life—other than a chronic lack of money—she had not felt it, or at least had not allowed the feeling to dwell long. At social functions, she sat with the matrons overseeing the antics of the youngsters, rather than with the giggling, hopeful maidens, whose conversations she found stultifying, and in the last couple of years, she had even taken to wearing a small cap over her hair in acknowledgment of her spinster status. It was just as well, she thought, that men’s eyes slid past her indifferently. It was much less trying not to have to make conversation about nothing.
Still...she could not help but feel a twinge of hurt at the thought that Sir Philip had not even noticed her when he was standing not three feet away from her, chatting with Aunt Ardis and her cousin Joanna.
“You were otherwise occupied,” she continued, not without a sting.
“I see.” He turned and looked at her. It puzzled him that he could have missed noticing this creature with the wide eyes and tumbling mass of bright hair and...other, entrancing features. His gaze dropped down to her torso, where her nightgown, still unbuttoned, had once again slipped off her shoulder and down her arm, revealing a high, firm white breast with its enticing pinkish brown nipple. Even fully clothed and with her hair done up in proper midday form, how could he not have noticed her?
Cassandra, following the direction of his gaze, glanced down and saw with horror that her breast was exposed. Blushing furiously, she jerked up the neck of her nightgown and began buttoning it up, keeping her eyes turned down. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her! How could she face him again? No man had ever seen more of her than what was bared by the neckline of an evening gown. Now this man, this stranger to her, had seen her with the intimacy of a husband. Worse—what was she doing with half the buttons of her gown undone? She thought of the wild, swirling emotions of her dream, the startling sensations and the heat in her abdomen. What had happened? Had it been not a dream lover but a real man touching her in those intimate ways? Had this man caused that fierce, primeval jolt of pleasure that had finally dragged her from her slumber?
She looked up at him, color still staining her cheeks. She was embarrassed, but Cassandra Verrere was not one to flinch from the truth. “What happened? Here, tonight, I mean. I—I feel so strange. I dreamed, well, bizarre things, things that I— Were they real? What did you—what did I do?”
Sir Philip hesitated, then he leaned over and took her hand gently. “You did nothing. I assure you. I entered your room, thinking you were another. You were in the midst of a fevered dream. I—you were tossing and turning. Thinking you were Joanna, I came over and, ah, took your arms. I tried to wake you, but you were very heavily asleep. I...kissed you. And you woke up. That is when I realized that you were not Miss Moulton.”
“And that is all?”
His eyebrows rose lazily. “Yes. Of course. What else could there be?”
Cassandra let out a sigh of relief. “Nothing. It was just peculiar. I felt as if I were not quite asleep, yet I could not seem to pull myself out of my slumber.”
“No doubt you had a tiring day.”
“Mmm.” Cassandra knew it had not been at all tiring physically. But the social interaction that a large house party involved was rather wearying. Still... “I think you had better leave now.”
“Yes. You’re right.” He slid off the bed and walked toward the door. Cassandra followed him. He paused and turned toward her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she responded automatically, then added, “What are you thanking me for?”
“For being a most calm and reasonable young woman. There are not many who would have reacted as you did.”
“Oh.” Cassandra nodded matter-of-factly. “I am afraid I haven’t much sensibility.”
He reached for the doorknob, but Cassandra laid a restraining hand on his arm. “No. You had better let me see if anyone happens to be out in the hall first.”
“Of course.” He nodded and stepped back.
Cassandra eased the door open a crack and put her eye to it. She gasped and jerked back, closing the door hastily. She turned to Sir Philip, her eyes huge.
“What is it?” He made a move toward the door, but she raised her hand.
“Don’t!” she cautioned. “Shh. It’s my aunt!”
Almost without thinking, she reached down and turned the key in the lock. The last thing she wanted was for Aunt Ardis to barge into her room.
“What is she doing here?” he whispered.
“I have no idea. Could she have seen you enter my room? If she knocks on the door, you will have to hide.” She looked speculatively toward the window. “I wonder if you could escape out the window.”
“We are on the second floor,” he reminded her.
“There might be a trellis or a tree.”
He raised one brow sardonically. “You seem awfully familiar with this sort of predicament.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Their discussion was interrupted at that moment by heavy pounding on a door, not Cassandra’s, but the one next door. Cassandra jumped at the sound, then relaxed with a heartfelt sigh. “Thank God. She’s at Joanna’s room.”
“Joanna!” Aunt Ardis bellowed, her voice carrying clearly through the walls. “Open this door. This is your mother! Open this door at once, I say!”
“Is your aunt in the habit of waking everyone up in the middle of the night this way?”
Cassandra shook her head, puzzled. “No. I cannot imagine what has possessed her. She is always in bed by ten.”
“Joanna!”
Cassandra stealthily unlocked her door and opened it a fraction, peering out at the spectacle of her aunt. Aunt Ardis was a sizable woman, with a large bosom that thrust out like the prow of a ship when she was corseted. It did so now, despite the fact that Aunt Ardis wore a red velvet dressing gown and bedroom slippers. Cassandra noticed, too, that her hair was still coiled up into its usual flat braided bun, not hanging loose down her back. Cassandra frowned, wondering what could have happened to put her aunt into such a state.
“Joanna! Open up I say. Who’s in there with you? I heard voices.”
“Voices!”
