Read Online A Flight of Fancy by Laurie Alice Eakes - Free Book Online Page B

her eyes as the footman lent his support to Honore, who began to chatter as though he were a friend long missed instead of a servant. Cassandra swallowed, blinked, and picked up her cane. By the time the footman extricated himself from Honore, Cassandra was on the ground with three steps to climb up to the front door. Only three. She could manage three, especially if a groom or footman came to her aid.
    She started for the house in Honore’s wake. Her cane sank into the soft earth that formed the carriageway, and she teetered, her weight coming down on her worst leg. She gasped in pain.
    A hand slid beneath her elbow. “Miss Bainbridge, allow me.”
    She froze at the unfamiliar voice, so cool, so clipped, so obviously the product of a fine school upbringing. Eton or Harrow, perhaps. The hand was strong, holding her upright with a palm beneath her elbow. Slowly she glanced up to eyes the color of the English Channel after a storm—gray-green and cool. He wore no hat, and his hair gleamed honey-blond in the sunlight, a bit darker than Honore’s golden locks. And he was in uniform. The red coat did not suit him, draining his naturally pale complexion of color. But for that flaw, his fine bones made for an attractive countenance.
    “We have not been introduced.” A bit rude, perhaps, but he was being familiar for a stranger. “I beg your pardon, but you appeared in instant need.” He smiled.
    She forgave his uninvited contact.
    “Gabriel Crawford.” He removed his hand from her elbow sohe could bow. “Major Gabriel Crawford at your service, Miss Bainbridge. And I suspect you need that service up these steps.”
    “For a few more weeks only, I am assured.”
    A nonsensical thing to respond, true though it was. But ahead of her, Honore had mounted the short flight with her long-legged grace. The doors opened to receive her like gleaming arms, and her laughter drifted back into the afternoon.
    Cassandra should have been the first one over that threshold—as a bride.
    Her throat closed up again. Honore had done her a favor in going first. Cassandra would not enter first like a new bride.
    Eyes fixed straight ahead, she dug her cane into the ground and started forward. Major Crawford’s hand remained beneath her elbow without invitation, without rejection, without providing her the jolt of longing that the most proper of touches from Whittaker never failed—
    She drew her thoughts up short and pulled herself up the first step, then the second, then the third. With her lips set, she managed not to gasp or even whimper in pain. Then she stood on solid flagstones worn smooth from hundreds of years and thousands of feet and crossed the threshold without Geoffrey Giles, Lord Whittaker, at her side. No line of servants greeted her. She wasn’t their master’s wife. They would serve her as a guest and nothing more. Instead, a lady in black gauze over a pale gray silk glided forward and reached out her hands, noticed that Cassandra’s held a cane and a reticule, and rested them on her shoulders instead. “Welcome to Whittaker Hall at last, Cassandra.”
    Lady Whittaker, the earl’s mother, kissed Cassandra’s cheek. Though touched with silver strands, her hair shone the same brown as her son’s—so dark it appeared black in mostlights—and she had the same brown eyes. She smiled and a dimple appeared in one cheek.
    Cassandra bowed her head to hide more foolish tears. “Thank you for the invitation, my lady.”
    “Oh, please, you should call me—” Lady Whittaker broke off. “We’ll discuss that later. Major, will you be so kind as to see to the unloading of their luggage. I am taking this young lady to her room. She looks in need of refreshment and a rest.”
    “Of course.” The major bowed and turned toward the front door, adding, “Until later, Miss Bainbridge.”
    “Cassandra slept most of the way in the carriage.” Honore appeared from the shadows of the great hall with its suits of armor standing in two