Cassandra

Chapter Seven

Once he'd bundled his idiotic cousin into his carriage and sent him on his way, Christopher Weston allowed himself to breathe as he thought over the events of the past week.

When he'd first seen Lady Cassandra Whitlock, his immediate thought was that he'd died and was in heaven. Surely she had to be an angel, for no mortal could be as fair as that. She'd bewitched him instantly and he found that he couldn't stop staring at her even across the ballroom.

The tendrils of golden hair that had escaped her updo and fell in curls across her face, the shockingly blue eyes that he could spot even from ten feet away, and the petite figure only enhanced by her ball gown entranced him. He was pulled in further when he saw her smile at her brother, the action enveloping her features in a radiance he could not even begin to describe. And, when she laughed, he knew he was gone for the giggle that escaped her lips sounded like a thousand tinkling bells and astounded him by the sheer realness of it.

"Who is she?" He could remember asking an acquaintance of his, who was standing by him, the words rushing out of his lips in a breathy sigh that made it ever so obvious that he was enchanted.

His friend had then explained who she was and went into detail of who her brother was and how wealthy they were. But Christopher had been entirely preoccupied by her name. Cassandra. It was just as lovely as she.

Christopher had gotten himself introduced to her brother through  their hosts, and her brother bad introduced him to Cassandra. He'd come across as rude, he knew, but they'd danced and talked a little and the way she felt in his arms, as if that was where she was mean to be, only preoccupied him further. He could not think of anything else and he could not sleep all night.

The next morning, once he'd dressed, he went to Hyde Park where he'd run into George, his cousin. When they'd spoken of the ball the night before, and Christopher had mentioned his interest in Cassandra, that had been it. His cousin had become determined to have her after that, as if she were some mere possession or object that could bought and sold.

He'd even roped Christopher into a wager, where the terms were that, if George could gain Cassandra's attention first, Christopher would have to pay him. If Christopher had succeeded, George would have to leave her alone. They'd gone to her cousin directly after to begin.

Christopher knew it was wrong, but he felt as if he were protecting her from his cousin. She deserved much better than George or even Christopher. But that did not mean he did not hope. When he'd spoken to her, his heart could not stop beating fast but he'd somehow kept his cool. She was enthralling him more and more by the second.

That finally brought them to tonight. He had not planned on attending the Smithson dinner party, but had decided to the moment he'd heard she would be there. The first thing he'd seen when he'd walked in, however, was exceedingly unpleasant— George was mere centimetres away from Cassandra and her eyes held more discomfort than he'd ever seen in a single human.

He'd instantly stepped into action to get him away from her. The relief in her eyes had been all the thanks he'd ever needed in his life. Mrs. Smithson had been quite appalled at the sight of his cousin's blatant drunkenness, especially so early on in the night and appeared grateful that Christopher was getting him out of her house.

George was disgusting. Christopher knew for a fact he only wanted Cassandra for her looks, he wanted to possess her. His interest had spiked merely because of Christopher's interest in her. He'd always been greedy and rapacious, even as a child, and wanted what others had.

Not that Christopher had Cassandra. First of all, his admiration was not reciprocated and he knew it. Secondly, she was not an object or thing whose ownership could pass from man to man. She was her own person, with choices and beliefs. He bad enough respect for her not to push anything.