"And just how are you acquainted with His Grace?" Cassius' eyebrows quirked up in the air in surprise. Daphne's hand paused over her helping of ices. She shot him a petulant look.

"You know a lesser woman would take offense to the doubt in your tone, Pembroke. Lady Needham, Rothbury's sister, is a very good friend of mine," she wagged her spoon at him in displeasure, before dipping it back into the lime-flavored treat, the ice a welcome reprieve from the summer weather. "I know plenty staid, respectable people. I just choose not to waste time on them."

"And yet you are here with me," Cassius responded in a droll tone. The deadpan look he was giving her was having the oddest impact on her pulse. Which was ridiculous, because she was no longer the silly girl who had been head over heels in love with him.

She may harbor some...sentiments still, but it was a far cry from the endless devotion she had held for him when she was a girl. She had learned to rein in her sentiments, her second season had taught her as much. Her inability to control her feelings had been to blame for everything that had come after.

"That is different; I am taking pity on you, Pembroke. Blessing you with my infinitely entertaining presence. Besides Honey Bee makes up for your general.....you-ness," she raised a haughty nose in the air and then felt the urge to flush in delight as Cassius' mouth tugged up into a reluctant grin. Ah, but he so rarely smiled that it was like collecting a secret treasure. "I bought your Emma the other day, just to see what all the fuss was about."

"Is that so? What do you think?"

"I have yet only made it beyond the first page so I cannot tender judgment."

"How do you read just one page of a book?" Honoria asked in obvious disapproval.

"Exactly!" Cassius chimed in, sharing a pained look with his daughter. Delight suffused through her like a hearth fire on a cold day. Her meddling was working, the two were actually getting along. Honoria had not thrown one of her tantrums in weeks.

Last week, she had even offered to let Cassius borrow one of her books when he had expressed interest in the plot. The look on his face was one of sheer awe and tenderness. He looked so hopeful that something had stirred in her chest once more. It was such a stark reminder of all the reasons that she-

No.

Not love. She had walked down that path.

She had suffered for it.

And while she couldn't blame Cassius for everything that had happened.....she did know how low his opinion of her was. How easily he had believed her to be a liar, how easily he assumed the worst of her. Her own behavior had been less than stellar, but a part of her could not let go of the fact that he had turned his back on her as he had all those years ago.

"Unlike the two of you, I have more interesting things to do," she said loftily. "If one has the same amount of time as an absolute bore," she pointed to Cassius, "or an adolescent delinquent who has been sacked from school, then one might find the time to read a book from cover to cover in the span of a few days. As I happen to be a fully educated, interesting individual I actually have things to do."

"Suspended," father and daughter corrected in unison and then shared an exasperated look when she made a dismissive gesture with her hands.

How adorable they were, getting long.

Before she could respond, the door to Gunter's opened and she froze as her gaze collided with a familiar one. The woman who had entered the shop, younger sister in tow, looked her right in the eye and then averted her face in an obvious cut.

Haughty old shrew.

Daphne ignored the twinge of hurt she felt over the loss of someone she had once considered a close friend. She did not care that Claire Weston thought herself too good to keep company with her. She cast a look at the man in her company, who was frowning at Claire.

"That woman just gave you the cut." A frown marked his features as he followed her gaze to Lady Northhaven.

"Who is she?" Honoria piped up, looking incensed on her behalf.

"No one," Daphne replied smoothly, "just someone I used to know."

"Weren't you and Lady Northhaven rather close?" He turned his attention to her, brows drawn together. 

"It doesn't matter," she said with more casualness than she felt and though he did not press her further, she knew he had not exactly bought it. But how to explain to him that rejection from people she cared for cut her deeply? 

She should know by now that she was just too much for some people. Like Claire. And Cassius.

Which was why she must get a hold of herself. Often she found herself looking for excuses to touch him, to flirt with him, to make him blush. She adored the way his ears turned red, she always had even during her season all those years ago.

She had wandered down this path before and had lived to regret it. Why must she insist on provoking the devil again?

Cassius frowned at the clock in agitation as the hand struck three. He had been pacing for the last hour, unable to concentrate on work that he ought to be doing.

She was late. Two entire hours late. And she had already missed their rendezvous last week.

She was supposed to be here every Wednesday at one o clock, the day parliament did not sit, as she had every day for the last month and a half upon her own insistence. After that they went out with Honoria. Sometimes to Hatchard's, sometimes to Bond street, sometimes to Hyde Park. He had begun to schedule his weeks around it, making sure that he had done the work he needed to do so that he could free up his week days for her visits.

And now she sought to abandon them. And he knew why.

The Russian.

Prince Alexei Aleksandrovich Menshikov, her erstwhile lover, had arrived with the Russian delegation here to visit the King for some political motive or other. He was the reason she had not shown last week as well. She'd been showing him around town, taking him to the various delights the city had to offer. They had gone to Vauxhall, and had been spotted together at several events arm in arm.

The fact that the chatter had reached even him, one who rarely attended society functions, meant that they were not exactly being subtle.

Well, since her husband was now several years in the grave, he supposed there was no need for subtlety. She had been with him, under the same roof while her husband had been on his deathbed. Normally, Cassius would not have possibly believed it. But he himself had seen the Prince exit Daphne's bedchamber while he had been roped into a visit to Paris by his in-laws. He had seen it twice.

An ugly, uncomfortable tightness settled in his chest as the clock hand ticked by more and more numbers. Jealousy? Surely not. He knew that she took lovers as she pleased, that she very much enjoyed her life as a widow, with all the freedoms and liberties it afforded her. It was not as if he felt entitled to her presence, it was not as if he had gotten used to their weekly outings. She made him uncomfortable, made innuendos, flirted with him. She made these fleeting touches upon his person that threw him out of his equilibrium. She played him like a fiddle for her amusement, enjoying the way she discomfited him. Not to mention that he reached the end of every Wednesday so out of his mind with lust that he disgraced himself in the bath. Sometimes even for days after. The shame afterward was almost unbearable.

If anything he was glad she was not coming. That way he could keep his world ordered and organized the way he liked it without someone coming and leaving everything in an upheaval.

No, this was not jealousy, for being jealous was ridiculous.

This was......indignation. Yes. There was the right word. He was offended by how lowly she thought of his time. And Honoria's time.

Did she not know that he organized his time in accordance to her and her plans? Plans that she never divulged to him, just came and stated what they were to do. Did she not know that Honoria had begun to look forward to their outings? She had already been down to ask after Daphne thrice.

Did she not know that-?

A dark carriage pulled up into the drive in her house. A liveried servant rushed to open the door and hand her down. Another rushed forward to grab all sorts of parcels and bags from the interior of the carriage.

'So!' He thought with much affront, 'he and Honoria had been kept waiting for a bit of shopping!'

When she sauntered into his house a while later, he was in a right temper. If she were even moderately impressed by his glower, she didn't show it. She merely handed her cloak to one of the servants and then rang for tea. As if she owned the damn place. His irritation mounted at her audaciousness.

"Apologies for the delay," she said breezily as she asked another servant, his staff, to fetch his daughter. "I got caught up with a prior engagement."

"I imagine His Highness keeps you busy," he snapped, roughly adjusting the cuffs of his shirt just so he would have something to do with the restless energy coursing inside him.

"Who put all the extra lemon in your tea this morning, Mister Bitter?" She said breezily, not paying a modicum of attention to his obviously thunderous mood. "No need for the jealousy- I can promise you that you are my dearest friend out of all the little girls at boarding school."

"I am not jealous," he snarled back, her refusal to take him seriously making his mood worse. "You made a commitment to m- to my daughter. You can't just flout it and expect us to wait at your beck and call for whenever you can make time from your activities." He basically hissed the last word out.

"You can just say you missed me instead of all this huffing and puffing," she chuckled as she dropped a quick kiss to his cheek. The move was so utterly unexpected Cassius went speechless momentarily. She quickly reached behind him and poured him a glass of brandy. He could feel the imprint of her lips burning the flesh of his cheek. "Here, darling, you look more wound up than a violin string."

"It is the middle of the day!" He protested as she deposited the glass in his hand. "And perhaps if you had a modicum of respect for other people's time, you would know how ill-mannered it is to leave someone waiting for you while you come and go upon your whims!"

The bluster of his voice had been significantly lessened, what with the fact that his tongue barely remembered to work. His brain was too busy trying to relive the chaste kiss to bother with irritation. Cassius could almost weep for how pathetic he was, desperate for any scraps of intimacy that he would accept it even from her.

"So you did miss me!" She grinned and then poured herself some before settling in the chair by the chessboard.

"Honoria was eagerly awaiting you. You should have a care with the girl's sentiments, she is clearly very attached to you. Again, if you had a care-"

"You know what you need, Pembroke?" She blithely cut him off without a single hint of remorse. "To get you to loosen up?"

"What?" He bit out harshly.

"A good fucking," she took a delicate little sip of her drink and hummed in approval as he sputtered in shock at her crass choice of word.

He would never forget the sound of her voice speaking that filthy word. He wanted to hear it again and again as he-

No.

"And I supposed you would be the leading authority in such matters; is that what you have been up to with His Highness?" He snapped, feeling cornered and disoriented as he always did with her. He scrambled for proverbial footing but he felt as if he could never keep up. Instead of looking affronted as she ought at his vulgarity, she merely looked amused.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She said saucily.

"I wouldn't at all," he replied petulantly and took a pointed sip of his glass.

"You're like a cooker on the stove," she let out a husky laugh. She set her glass down and walked to him. His throat grew dry at the sight of her sashaying hips. The jasmine scent of her assaulted his senses, wreaking havoc upon the last vestiges of his sanity. His fingers itched to reach for her waist, to pull her close, press his aching length against the swell of her stomach until he brought himself to release.

No, in that scenario there would be no clothes between them, just hot skin on skin, the heat of their bodies seeping into each other. He would release against the soft curves of her stomach, watch his seed paint her skin. Mark her.

"All that heat, simmering beneath the surface, darling. It is begging to be let out," her voice dropped to a seductive whisper, snatching him out of his horrific daydream. She trailed light fingers across his throat, his cock jumped in his trousers.

"I am not your darling," he rasped weakly.

"If you don't let the pressure out once in a while, you'll simply explode. You're positively red in the face even now," she raised the hand that had been caressing his throat and left three patronizing pats on his face.

"And I suppose you're offering?" He felt his hackles rise and he could not help but feel so damn angry at her for making such a game of him. He felt as if he were constantly being mocked. And with that utterance it was the first time he saw her react in defensiveness. The teasing gleam in her eye vanished entirely, replaced with a shuttered, cool expression.

"Don't be ridiculous Pembroke, I am too old to ask for admittance where I am not wanted," she replied frostily, drawing back immediately. Not so fun being on the back foot, was it?

And then in a flash, she was back, saucy grin, easy posture all brimming with confidence.

"Have you ever heard of Madame Dumont?" She said, baiting him. Why must he always open his damn mouth like a fool fish swimming to the hook?

"I am not interested in going to a brothel!"

"So you have heard of her! Naughty, naughty, Cassius," her smug tone just showed him that he had given her what she wanted. "What self-respecting prude would know the name of the most famous bawd in town?"

"You-I-"

She took a pointed look at his groin and then grinned again.

"You may want to take care of that, dearest, before we have more company."

He floundered around for a response, his mouth gaping and closing like a fish, but while his brain scrambled to think of an adequate response she had clearly decided she'd had enough and started setting up the chessboard for a game. He quietly exited the library out onto the terrace, letting the air cool him and temper his embarrassment.

When he returned a few moments later, his daughter had arrived, beaming at the woman. It still made Cassius so damn envious. His daughter positively bloomed in Daphne's presence, excited and chattering like a hummingbird when otherwise she was an introvert of few words just as he was.

"Aunt Daphne!" She smiled in delight. Yes, in the last month and a half since she had forcibly added herself to their routine, she had gone from Lady Whittaker to Aunt while he still remained Sir. It stung.

"Ah, my dearest Honey Bee, I am so sorry for missing last Wednesday! But I have bought you some new ribbons in reparation."

"Where are we going today?" His daughter asked excitedly.

"Apologies, little one, I am a bit too tired to go out today. Indulge me in a game will you?"

His daughter's face fell but she took her seat readily enough. Cassius grabbed a book off of his shelf- Othello- and took a seat. He listened to his daughter chatter away, telling Daphne all what she had been doing in the week, what her lessons had been, what her trip to Hyde Park had been like, and how the Governess had penalized her for getting her Latin incorrect. Though he wished that she would soon feel as though she could share such things with him, he was still grateful that he could hear them even indirectly.

At some point, Honoria lost the game and Cassius found himself sitting across from his mischievous Venus, wishing to God that he could somehow dispel the enchantment she had cast upon him. Could he not be like her? Unaffected, cool, flirting without it meaning anything? Instead, he overthought and analyzed every word out of her mouth, feeling everything with more intensity than should be normal.

Though, very soon he was distracted from her beauty by the absolutely atrocious game she was playing. She kept making the silliest blunders, foolish steps even a novice wouldn't make. Cassius kept shooting her astonished looks; Daphne was competitive and always gave as good as she got, so what was she doing now? Was she throwing the game? But to what end?

Even Honoria had abandoned the book that she was reading to observe the game, muttering disapprovingly every now and again. Finally, when Daphne made to move her rook to a position that left her open to a check, his daughter finally had enough.

"What are you doing?" Honoria demanded in frustration. "If you do that, you will lose the game in two more moves!"

Sheer pride suffused through Cassius. His daughter was a prodigy!

"Oh my!" Daphne exclaimed in feigned shock, shaking her head theatrically. "Where is my head today?! Take over for me, won't you, Honey Bee? I think I ought to get home."

Honoria obediently slid into the seat Daphne had vacated and started to frown at the board. Cassius raised his questioning eyes to Daphne's who merely winked and mouthed 'Have fun.' Before receiving her cloak and leaving him to his daughter's company.

And miracle of all miracles, they played one game, then another, and they had just started a third when it became time for dinner to be served, not that Cassius would have noticed. The last several hours had passed by in a blink of pure joy.

She even initiated small conversations with him! His daughter spoke to him of her own volition!

And while they were a far cry from the unabashed and uninhibited way she spoke to Daphne, it was still leagues and miles above the stilted, strained silence between them.

"Perhaps, we could play some more tomorrow?" Honoria asked him hesitantly and Cassius felt tears stinging the back of his throat.

"If it pleases you, we can play every night after supper," he said through a thick throat. His daughter regarded him warily before offering him a nod and a shy smile. If she did not stop, he would start weeping, he was certain of it.

As she went up to her quarters to have supper, Cassius elected to take a try to his study and catch up on the work that he hadn't done. From his seat, he gazed out of the window and caught the glimpse of a silhouette in one of the windows of the house across the road. The feminine figure sat at the sill, a book in hand.

Perhaps she was reading Emma.

He did not know why he worked the rest of the evening with a smile on his face.