Constantine shot to his feet as Sabrina sailed into the parlor before dinner. He hadn’t seen her since she’d returned from Evesham House and was pleased to discover that she appeared serene. And lovely. Honey-gold curls whispered against her temples as she moved into the room, and the hem of her cornflower blue gown swayed gently against the carpet.
“Good evening.” He went and took her hand, bowing elegantly as if they were courting. Because they were. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You are quite handsome this evening.”
He reluctantly released her hand and gestured toward the settee, hoping she might want to sit with him there instead of in separate chairs. “We have a little time before dinner. I am anxious to hear about your interview with my father.”
Sabrina lowered herself elegantly to the pale yellow settee. “Anxious?”
Constantine sat beside her—close, but not too close. “Yes. You marched into the lion’s den, and while you needed to go alone, I very much wanted to be with you.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze flicked down to his sleeve, where his hand rested on his lap. “I appreciate your support, and I think it gave me courage.”
“Did it?” Constantine itched to touch her, to take her hand or stroke her bare shoulder. He curled his fingers against his thigh.
“Yes, and I shall need it because we are hosting a ball.”
“You’d mentioned that, but what has that to do with the visit with my father?”
“He insisted we have it on the twenty-third. Of this month.”
His jaw dropped. “He can’t expect that from anyone, let alone—” He snapped his mouth closed and grimaced. “I didn’t mean—”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t blame you. Why wouldn’t you think I was unable to execute a ball in ten days’ time. I’m not certain I can.”
“It’s still uncharitable. You deserve the opportunity to show what you can do. But I can’t help feeling as though my father is hoping you will fail, just as he is with agreeing to let you sponsor Cassandra.”
“I’m not at all sure that’s his wish. He wants Cass to marry. I actually believe he wants me to succeed in pairing her off with an appropriate gentleman.”
“Because it serves him.” Constantine scoffed. “What does he get from us having a ball that is practically tomorrow?”
“He wants us to present Cass to Society. The ball in her honor will elevate her visibility and encourage more suitors. However, at present no one wants to court her because they are too intimidated by your father.”
Constantine frowned. The ridiculous rumor he’d heard at White’s was apparently not just a rumor. “No one? Are all of London’s bachelors without fortitude? If they think the duke is frightening, they will not be satisfactory husbands for my sister. Furthermore, she can be just as intimidating.” He muttered the last.
“Can she? I find her quite lovely.” She gave him a coy look. “Perhaps she only shows that side to her older brothers when they deserve it.”
“I had no idea you could be so saucy.”
Her lids fluttered as she glanced away. “I didn’t mean to be.”
He reached for her hand and held it, the back against his palm. “I think you did, and I’m more than eager for it.” He liked this side of her. Or this new part of her. Whatever it was, she was enticing and interesting, and he was bloody cursing all the wasted time they hadn’t spent together.
Her lips curled into a slight, rather provocative smile. “Then I shall endeavor to increase my sauciness.” She turned her hand over so that they were palm to palm. They sat like that for a moment in silence, their eyes locked. Though the touch was simple, it drove a keen yearning straight into the deepest part of him.
“Did you and Lucien ever run up and down the stairs at Evesham House?”
Constantine blinked at the non sequitur. “Why do you ask?”
“When I was there earlier, I imagined the two of you dashing about the stair hall. Not the foyer.”
A chuckle escaped him. “We did in fact race up and down the stairs, and we even ran through the foyer.” He put his finger to his lips—not the hand that was touching hers. He wasn’t sure he’d ever move that one. “Don’t tell the duke. It was one of many things our mother hid from him.”
“I see. Your mother sounds wonderful. Were you close to her?”
His mother’s brilliant green eyes and wide, infectious smile swam before him, her golden blonde hair a halo about her head. She’d been an angel on earth as she must certainly be in Heaven. “She was the best of mothers,” he murmured. “Kind and sweet, never too busy to spend time with us. She was always reading us stories or taking us on walks. I swear she never stopped moving.” Until she did. She’d fallen ill while Constantine was at school, and he’d never seen her again.
“How wonderful. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to meet her.”
His gaze met hers once more, and he could have drowned in the compassion that shone in her eyes. “I am too. She would have liked you. She said it would take a special woman to be my countess, someone with a softness who would dull my harder edges. I’m afraid that even as a child, I was driven.”
“Was that because of your father?”
“I assume so. His expectations of me have always been high. A day didn’t pass when I wasn’t aware of my duty as heir.”
“I wonder why your father was so exacting. Is so exacting,” she amended. “I often try to puzzle why people are the way they are. I suppose that’s because my own parents were so cold, and I never really understood why.”
He clasped her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. “How were they cold?” When she hesitated and averted her gaze, he gave her a squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered. But he hoped she would.
“I told you before about how I was so anxious about the Season, about going into crowds of people. I have always been nervous. As a child, I was easily startled by loud noises and I very much disliked change. My mother liked to tell the story of the first time they brought me to London. I was ‘inconsolable and unmanageable’ she said.” She looked back at him, her mouth pressed into a sad line.
He stared at her as he suppressed a violent urge to visit her mother and demand she apologize. As if that would help. The pain in Sabrina’s eyes was deep and old. “She liked to tell that story?”
“I think so. She certainly told it enough, and it wasn’t as if my sisters and I weren’t well aware. But I have no memory of that trip at all.”
“Perhaps she fabricated the entire tale.”
Sabrina shook her head. “I did struggle with change. I liked my routine. I do recall when I graduated from my nurse to the governess. I took ill to my chamber for nearly a fortnight. I just couldn’t bear it.”
He stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. “You were only a child. I can’t tell you how sorry I am you were treated that way, that you were misunderstood.”
“Nurse was wonderful. That’s probably why I was so troubled when she left. The governess had less…patience for me. She did care for me and my sisters though.”