Sidney only shook his head.
“You needn’t bother,” Cassie returned, glaring at her brother. “And thank you for the compliment, my lord. I’ve always favored Navy blue.”
She looked back to him, but his paper now covered his face as he resumed reading.
She stumbled over her thoughts. Scattered and dull as they were. She never knew what to say to him now that she was so painfully aware of her own infatuation, and the lack of his. She was nineteen, officially out in society after a successful come out, and yet he made her feel like a girl of six and ten.
She had to prove her womanly worth—no, those weren’t the right words. She knew her womanly worth, as did he. He’d put her on an impossibly high pedestal. Forbidden fruit too high to pluck.
She wanted to be plucked by him.
And only him.
But he saw her only as Tristan’s little sister.
She needed to alter that perception, and the only opportunity to do so would be to trick him. At least, partly. She wasn’t so evil as to trap a man in marriage. She could never. All she wanted was a kiss. One chance to prove that the smoldering desire she felt, the tension that infused her body whenever he was near, could become so much greater if shared between them.
She wanted him to see her at last, and how could a kiss not awaken him to the truth?
Was it a gamble? Certainly. His feelings toward her may never change. But she would never know unless she took a chance. Just one kiss, to show him all the fire she had inside her.
And if he didn’t want it—if he didn’t want her—then that would be the end of it. He was no fool. He’d keep their secret. He’d never shame her or tease her. She’d be humiliated, but only she would know.
Cassie could live with that. However, she couldn’t live with the regret of never trying. In a few days, Sidney was traveling to Star Frost to visit his cousin, the Duke of Renvere. He’d been planning this trip for months, and Cassie wasn’t certain when she’d see him again. Star Frost was not on the circuit of polite society, until the scandalous ruin of Miss O’Roarke and the downfall of a prominent aristocratic couple, Lord and Lady Osbourne, who purposefully ruined her. Polite society had taken a fervent interest in the elusive Isle, rumored to be the Refuge of the Ruined. Fitting, since that is where Miss O’Roarke, now Mrs. Hunter, was born and lived with her husband, away from the ton’s shrewd glare.
Cassie wondered what it was like to escape the pressures of being a debutante in society. She’d performed admirably, her mother said, and Cassie had enjoyed her first season, but London expectations were so…suffocating. She preferred the country. Her home here in Somerset was a paradise where she could roam the hillsides, ride as fast as she wanted—out of sight of her brother or her maid—and just breathe in the fresh air scented with lavender and damp earth. It was heaven, and London had none of these things, except Sidney. Sidney had stood up with her at many a ball and dotingly led her through a dance at each event. But he never asked her to waltz.
Cassie had taken great pains when learning the waltz, and her toes suffered abuse whenever her brother was forced to dance with her. He did it on purpose. She’d seen Tristan glide across the dance floor with a woman in his arms as if he had wings on his shoes instead of buckles. Though she was loath to admit it, Tristan was a rake and quite handsome. He favored their father, stealing hearts with his quick smile and golden Adonis curls while Cassie inherited her mother’s pale red hair. They all shared the same blue eyes. Women adored Tristan’s easy charm and confidence. He wasn’t a bad brother, but he was a trickster. A silly prankster who delighted in torturing her as brothers do. Sticking twigs in her hair, hiding dead fish in her room, and never letting her come on their adventures. That was years ago. These days he just ignored her.
Sidney was also a bit of a rake. He had that subdued, silent quality that ladies adored. He always left them wanting more. Including Cassie. They’d known each other for years now, and yet, she hadn’t cracked his shell. Women followed him like moths to a flame, but he was the discreet sort. She never knew who held his favor, only that it wasn’t her.
And yet…
There was something she just couldn’t put her finger on that drew her to him, that led her on a merry chase. She had hope that maybe, just maybe, he did feel something. She didn’t know what it was exactly. An awareness, an instinct. When they did speak, when they did lock eyes, delicious tension sizzled through her.
She couldn’t be the only one. He had to feel it too.
He had a way of staring so deep inside her that she felt exposed, her heart open, her dreams and desires laid bare, but she was never afraid to be so vulnerable. She was elated. She felt…discovered.
At the start of the season, she half hoped he’d reveal himself and offer for her. But of the three proposals she’d received, he was not one of them. He’d remained distant and aloof, as always, with rare glimpses of his smile and humor only in private.
But now the season was over, and they were preparing for the holiday festivities. The annual Mistletoe Masquerade was legendary in their parish of Bridgewater. Young ladies who did not find suitors during the year’s social engagements prayed that the famous Mistletoe Masquerade at Riverside Manor would lead to a match. The Manor bore many halls and alcoves which featured carefully placed bunches of mistletoe to inspire romance. Not Scandal! Lady Randall would remind her guests, but moments to promote successful matches.
Cassie was going to use one such moment to bring an end to this tension between her and Sidney. Either she’d leave the masquerade blushing with hope and love, or she’d walk away in bashful humility.
She was putting her future in his hands tonight, though he just might hand it back to her.
Chapter 2
Sidney stared at the printed words on the page, but in his mind’s eye, he only saw Cassandra.
Cassie.
Tristan’s sister.
He’d had his share of women. Collecting paramours had never been difficult, but of late, his taste had become more discerning—no, boring. Things that excited him before had grown tiring.
But watching Cassie over the years had given him a new appreciation for beauty. From a gangly, stubborn girl, he’d seen her bloom. It was a wondrous marvel to watch. Gone were the pigtails and pouty expressions of a youthful heart. And what remained, frankly, stunned him. He remembered fondly the girl she was, pushing every limit she could find, and now stood a woman with a strong spine, a firm chin, and eyes of the bluest sapphire. Her long pale red hair, now coiled on top of her head in artful curls, pinned in place with pins he knew came loose far too easily. Cassie always seemed to appear seductively disheveled, not that she knew it.
It was he who knew how easy it would be to make the rest of her hair fall into his hands. She’d grown a head taller since last winter, and her figure had filled out in ways that made him hot under the collar. She was the perfect height for him, the top of her head coming just to his chin—the perfect height for kissing.
Except she was his best friend’s little sister.
And Sidney would fall on his own sword before betraying Tristan.
Tristan might appear to most as a charming rogue who had the attention span of a flea, but Sidney knew better. He’d known Tristan since Eton. They had similar personalities and moral codes. They’d bonded quickly and effortlessly.