“Miss Shipley has joined us at Roseberry Hall—become a member of our household.”
“As a governess.” Tatum snickered, then glanced at her fiancé and dropped her grin in a flash. She squinted her lovely blue, cruel eyes at her old schoolmate—casting the blame of her own faux pas on Lydia.
“You knew?” Mr. Granger asked, quietly, half turning in Tatum’s direction.
“Well, yes. I believe I heard the rumor somewhere. It was such a surprise; we all thought Cora would marry well and yet … fate was not kind.” The smarmy smile was back, but Mr. Granger did not witness it. He had returned his gaze to Cora.
“I am quite proud to be a governess,” Cora stated with a lot more strength in her voice than moments ago. “Ivy and Tessa are lovely, kind girls, who think of others. Not a vile bone in their bodies. I have not had to suffer bugs in my bed or soaked shoes. No mockery and, certainly, no pretenses of friendship where there are none.”
They were no longer talking about Ivy and Tessa.
Well aware of the sudden turn, Gloria sniffed in distaste. “I believe we should be on our way, Lorne. Tatum wishes to stop at the coffeehouse you so enjoyed the last time we took a promenade. Our own little Bath tradition.”
“Oh, that is such a shame,” Mr. Cassidy said, somehow oblivious to the tension. “I hope we are still going to meet at the Pump Room later to take in the waters.” He spoke to everyone, but his eyes were locked on Tatum Brownlow.
The flattered young lady blushed, glanced at the ground, and then looked up at him through her lashes. Lydia’s belly rolled in protest.
“Oh, indeed, Mr. Cassidy. That would be most enjoyable,” Gloria answered for the three of them. “And perhaps Mr. Newton would care to join us?”
It was extremely rude to make such a request while excluding Lydia and Cora. But the only appearances Gloria and Tatum ever worried about were those that looked back at them in the mirror.
“Thank you for your kind invitation. However, I must get back to work,” Robert replied.
Lydia smiled genuinely. She greatly appreciated the smooth, mellow sound of his refusal—even if she was furious with him.
“Work?” Both Gloria and Tatum reacted with horror.
“Indeed.” Mr. Cassidy nodded. “Newton here is a law apprentice.”
“You are in law? I thought…” Gloria glanced at Mr. Cassidy and then back to Robert. “I thought that you were the Earl of Wissett’s son.”
“Third son,” Robert explained.
“Oh.” Gloria sniffed again. She took a step back and flicked her fingers at Cassidy. “Are you a first son?”
Mr. Cassidy laughed as if the question were part of a jest, not an inquiry meant to assess his worthiness of their company. “Of course. I will be Lord Tremont one day. But not too soon, I hope. I quite enjoy flitting about, meeting interesting people.” Again, he smiled exclusively at Tatum.
Lydia’s appreciation of Mr. Cassidy was sinking by the minute. Gentlemen can be so easily swayed by a pair of fine eyes.
“I do not mind if you wish to accompany the Grangers now,” Robert encouraged. “I can see Miss Whitfield and Miss Shipley home.”
“Oh, excellent … I mean, are you certain?” Mr. Cassidy was stepping forward even as he asked.
“Yes, indeed.”
Lydia watched Mr. Cassidy; he hesitated before Tatum, as if he wished to offer her his arm. Then he looked at Gloria and lifted his elbow. And yet, as they strolled away, Mr. Cassidy continued to look over his shoulder and engage Tatum in conversation.
Lydia was unimpressed with Mr. Cassidy’s boorish behavior, which included deserting their company with barely a wave. While Robert’s earlier comment made it plain that he had instigated the encounter—likely to jolt a reaction from Mr. Granger—the whole mess was ill-considered. Distressing both Cora and Mr. Granger had been pointless and downright cruel. Mr. Granger could not, now that he knew Cora to be unfettered, back away from his engagement. Not only would his honor be ruined beyond repair, but he could also be sued for Breach of Promise.
No, Robert had put them all through this awkward ordeal with no gain possible. It was imprudent, foolhardy, and irresponsible. Try as she might, Lydia could not tamp down her burning anger. If he had spoken to her first, this whole scene might have been avoided.
It was almost a relief to focus her attention on Cora and getting her friend back to their town house. Had Lydia not been so distracted, she might have made any manner of waspish comments, might have given Robert a full dressing-down, and asked him to restrict any upcoming visits to number nineteen Great Pulteney Street for the time being. That, actually, would have been of benefit to their friendship. Time would allow her pique to blow itself out and give her some emotional distance.
While she knew that her sense of betrayal had been an overreaction, she was not above describing his actions as high-handed. They needed to have a talk, establish a few rules, such as: Thou shalt not bring about the distress of my best friend … without express permission.
“It is worse and worse again,” Cora lamented as soon as the door closed, leaving Robert out on the street to make his way back to work. Lydia led Cora to the small parlor, holding her arm as she did. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf.
“It was one thing to think that he did not care. That he had found someone else—that he was happy, even if I was miserable. But to learn … to know that he was tricked.” Cora stopped in the center of the room and placed her hand on Lydia’s arm. “Did you see his face?”
Lydia nodded. She didn’t want to comment; her friend’s control was on the edge, and anything might push her over.
Such as a silent nod.
Cora burst into loud, ragged sobs. Allowing her knees to collapse, she slumped onto the settee. Lydia dropped down beside her.
“I’m so sorry, Cora.” Lydia tut-tutted and rubbed her friend’s back. Had she believed in fairy tales, she would have told Cora that all would be well. True love would win out. But it seemed unlikely. Only Tatum Brownlow could break the engagement without any consequences. The nasty creature must have known that Mr. Granger had feelings for Cora, or the marriage lie would never have been invented. Tatum would not set the man free because of something as trivial as being in love with someone else. No, Tatum Brownlow was the type of young woman who would see to her own needs first and foremost. She always had.
*