Page 85 of Impetuous

Cassandra went about the business of pouring water into the wash basin and wetting a rag. She came back to Philip and began to clean his wound. “Did you get a look at him?”

He shook his head regretfully. “No. It was too dark, and then he knocked me silly with that box. He was tall, but slight, that’s about all I could see of him.”

Cassandra nodded. “I couldn’t see him, either. I wish the light had been better.”

“My money is still on it being your American cousin—or a burglar hired by him to get the map.”

Cassandra sighed. “Except that he went back to the United States.”

“Or so he told you.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, you have only his word for it,” he argued mildly, then winced. “Ow! I don’t think you are the future Florence Nightingale.”

“What? Oh. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere. There. It looks clean enough. I am afraid that is all I can do for it. You really need a plaster.”

He shrugged. “If it’s not your Mr. Miller, my dear, then who is it? I have always thought your aunt would fit well in the role of villainess.”

Cassandra smiled.

“Let’s see, who else? Your Mr. Simons, perhaps?”

Cassandra chuckled at the thought of the chubby, avuncular book dealer engaging in such shenanigans. “Well, I’m certain he wasn’t the one climbing in and out my window.”

“Thank God you were not in here when he did,” Philip said in a heartfelt voice. “Promise me that from now on you will close and lock your window at night. Engaged we may be, but I think it would be too shocking for me to camp out in your room every night to make sure you are safe.”

“Philip…” Cassandra turned toward him, distracted from the subject of their burglar’s identity. “I want to talk to you about that.”

“Dates and clothes and such? I leave all that sort of thing up to you, my dear. Mother and Grandmother no doubt will want to have a say, but—”

“That’s not what I meant. There really is no need for you to say we are engaged. It was very kind of you to try to protect me, but I can assure you that Aunt Ardis will not speak of this.”

“Cassandra!” Philip opened his eyes wide, looking shocked. “I do believe you are trying to jilt me. And here we are, engaged for scarcely an hour.” He tsk-tsked. “Oh, the callousness of it.”

“Philip! You know what I meant. There is no need for us to be married. My reputation will be perfectly all right.”

“Then your intention is to use me and toss me aside?” he asked with mock indignation.

Cassandra ground her teeth in irritation. “Would you please be serious?”

“Ah, but I am serious. You are the one who is thinking frivolously. We are now engaged, and there is nothing to be done about it.”

“Don’t I have anything to say in the matter?”

“Knowing you, I am quite certain that you will have a great deal to say,” Philip responded with a gleam of humor in his eyes. “However, it does not change the fact that marriage is the only option. If you will not think of your own reputation, my dear, consider mine.”

Cassandra fought down a desire to hit him. Philip’s lighthearted quips were blocking her attempts to do the right thing far better than a straightforward argument would. She was certain he knew that. It was most frustrating, especially given the fact that her own heart was not in her offer. The idea of marrying Philip had set up a warm glow in her chest; she realized that it was what she wanted more than anything else, the Spanish dowry included. It made it quite difficult to be noble and excuse Philip from his impetuous offer to save her reputation. However, she did not want to marry him merely because he felt a sense of responsibility. She wanted love from Philip, not duty.

With a sigh, she gave up for the moment. She would try again tomorrow to make him see reason. Perhaps after a few hours’ consideration he would see what he was throwing away by tying himself to her.

“Oh, go to bed.” She gestured toward the door.

“An excellent suggestion. One that I trust you will follow, also.” He strode to the window and pulled it down, locking it with an emphatic click. He did the same to her other window, then turned back to her. “Are you certain that you don’t want to sleep in your aunt’s or Joanna’s room tonight?”

“Don’t be absurd. Here I’d have only a thief to contend with. If I slept with either one of them tonight, I would probably be murdered in my bed.”

He chuckled and left the room, after a lengthy kiss that left Cassandra breathless and wondering why she had been so foolish as to protest their marriage. She cleaned up her room, folding her clothes and putting them back into the drawers, then crawled into her bed, where she fell promptly asleep and dreamed not of thieves and ransacked rooms but of wedding veils and rings.