"Hiding?" Daphne whispered to an unsuspecting Cassius, who was enjoying his drink in the corner of the garden. Finally, she had caught him alone in a private setting; illuminated by the torches through it was, it still provided a respite from the crowds at the ball. She had the pleasure of watching Cassius jump, startled by her stealthy approach.

He turned to face her and her heart leaped with joy at the sight of his beloved face. These two and a half years she had missed him with a ferocity that bordered on excruciating, physical pain. His eyes flared in recognition, a thrill running through her as a flush climbed his cheek and his eyes swept over her figure, snagging on her chest for just a second longer than necessary. Ever the gentleman, her Cassius would never gawk at her chest like a randy youth, even if he did admire it. Not that she would mind if he gawked, just a little.

Since making her come out, Daphne had realized that she did not mind being the object of admiration. There was a particular sort of heady power that came with being desired, and she would not make a false claim to modesty and pretend that she did not enjoy it. She needed only clear her throat and three people would offer to get her lemonade, she needed only mention the wonderful weather and four would offer to take her out on a phaeton, she needed only to look to the dance floor and her dance card would be full.

But none of it could ever compare to the way delight suffused through her when Cassius' throat bobbed, a slight flush on his cheeks. Oh, she had grown up enough now to know what attraction looked like. She would not care if no other man looked at her again so long as Cassius gazed at her with hunger and desire. And love. Lots and lots of adoration.

"I am not hiding," he said archly. "Just taking a minute."

"Oh, who are you trying to fool?" She tsked at him playfully. "Did the dance floor seem truly intimidating? Or was it all those people?" 

Cassius cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away pointedly, the tips of his ear adorably red.

Yes, this dress had been worth the disapproving look her mother had given her when she had taken off her cloak. And it would be worth the dressing down she would receive once she was home. But she had heard that Cassius was back in England and that he planned to attend The Season- and the only thing that could make him willingly intermingle with crowds was if he were looking for a wife. Could she be blamed for pulling out all the weapons in her arsenal? The stakes had never been higher.

I do not love or desire you in the way a man does a woman.

Well, they would certainly see about that.

"Daph- Miss Willoughby," he swiftly corrected himself, standing up a little straighter, a little stiffer. "You should not be out here alone. Where is your chaperone?"

"We're in private, my lord," she smiled at him coyly, fluttering her fan gracefully, a subtle ploy to draw attention to her chest. His eyes flickered down and then snapped back up to her face. "Surely we need not be formal? We are old friends, after all."

"Be that as it may. Ah, we should, ahem, we should take care. We are no longer in the country," he grated out, his gaze slipping down again. The flush on his cheeks deepened. "We should have a care for, ahem, your reputation."

Ah men. For all their intelligence and strength, they could be so very simple. He was already fumbling with his words.

"We are in view of everyone, the path is lit, and we are at an appropriate distance. And besides, we are old friends. You yourself claim to have only a brotherly sort of affection for me."

He stepped more fully into the path, the gentle lamplight bouncing off the top of his head, making the impression of a golden halo. How apt; her angelic savior, her beloved. Restrained and honorable, so controlled in his manner.

He was not an overtly attractive man, Daphne knew, his lips were too thin and his nose prominent instead of dainty and slender, his chin had a subtle cleft- one she only noticed because she always noticed everything about him. But he held himself with a mature poise, a calmness about him that always soothed the tempest inside her. That anchor in him called to the untamed wildness in her; not as a prison but a safe place, a home. She needed his calm to soothe her unkemptness, and he..... well, he needed her to bring some excitement into his life. He didn't know it just yet. Seeing him standing next to Cassidy Lockhart was like watching two people bleed the color out of each other, how could he ever think that they would suit?

The poor man, he needed to be rescued from himself before he made a grave error.

"We may see each other as brother and sister, Miss Willoughby, but I very much doubt that the gossiping matrons will share your opinion about impropriety."

"I never said I saw you as a brother, Cassius," his name stumbled a little awkwardly from her mouth; she had never used it. He was much older, a lord, the heir to an earldom, and she had always given him the deference that was due to his station in life. But he would never separate her from the child that brought him tarts if she kept acting like she always did.

"Daphne," he said roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Surely you are not on this subject? After all these years? I thought that I had made myself clear. And here I had spent so long worrying that I had wounded you."

She was angry at him for about two months following his rejection before she realized that she had pushed him too far too soon. He did not know that they were meant to be together, while she had known it for a decade. Of course, it would take him some time to get accustomed to the idea. It was not like she had made a particularly compelling argument in her own favour.

And she had to wince every time she thought of her attempt at seducing him; the awkward mash of her lips to his, too hard and entirely too still. She may have learned a thing or two about kissing since then.

Oh, if only he gave her the opportunity to kiss him again, she would do it right this time.

And her reaction was less than graceful, truth be told. She had thrown quite the sulk, giving him the silent treatment when he tried to make amends. She had ceased playing chess with him, ceased visiting his family. She hadn't even said goodbye to him properly.

"I apologize for my behavior, my lord," she felt her face flush in embarrassment. "I hope you can forgive me for how I acted before you left. It was beneath me, and you certainly deserved better from me. And certainly, my actions would have belied my declaration of affection. But you must know, my sentiments towards you have not changed."

"My dear," he said with exasperation, "my sentiments remain unchanged as well. You are a very beautiful woman, so please do not take my reluctance as an insult. I am sure you would make a man very happy, but that man is not me."

It did not sting any less than it had two years ago, but she had learned since then. And she would give him grace for being blind to their destiny.

"I know you think that way, and truthfully, given my ghastly behavior the last time we met I cannot fault you for thinking so. But if you would only-"

"I plan on courting Miss Cassidy Lockhart. Her father has given me permission to do so," he cut her off ruthlessly. Daphne rocked back on her heels, a knife twisting in her heart. She had suspected as much, but that didn't mean it made it any easier to hear it from his own mouth.

I am right here, why do you not see me? Cassidy would not suit you at all. She would never make you happy.

The words almost fled from her throat in frustration, but she had reacted emotionally last time and it had only served to push him further.

"I see," she said thickly.

"And I hope that you will have only good wishes and kind things to say about my plans, as I would for you and whatever future you envision for yourself."

The only future I envision is one where we are together.

"But of course."

"If you will excuse me, I shall head inside. I have promised to lead Cassidy into supper."

Daphne watched him go, trying to wrestle with her despair. It baffled her that he had written her off so completely. He saw now that she was no longer a child. And call it hubris, or pride, or conceit- Daphne knew she was one of the most beautiful women currently out. She sung well, she took care of her appearance, she was always dressed in the latest of fashions, always up to date with any gossip and rumors abound. She could plan a menu, host parties for hundreds of people, she could mingle with almost anyone. She was well-spoken, articulate, she knew how to run a household.

In short, she was everything that a man could want in a wife.

So why didn't he want her?

As she returned to the ballroom, watching miserably as Cassius made conversation with the Lockharts, her gaze clashed with that of Robert Crenshaw.

And as always, the way that he looked at her made her feel itchy and dirty. And while she would admit that she enjoyed being the object of a man's admiration, there was something in the way that Robert looked at her that made her feel unclean. Suddenly she was itching for a cloak, anything to shield her from the almost oily sensation his perusal aroused in her.

He made her feel less than human.

As if all she was, was a bag of flesh he wished to maul. It was why she had turned him down, not even because she would not settle for anyone who was not Cassius, but because he had a way of making her feel beneath him.

And the Crenshaws were a judgmental, overly controlling lot to boot.

She shook her head, willing the sick feeling to abate. She focused her attention onto Cassidy Lockhart. While not too close, she and Daphne were still on friendly terms. She did not have a singular bad word to say about Cassidy, only that she and Cassius would serve to hold each other back from a life of romance and vibrancy.

No, she would not let them make this fatal mistake. She had to come up with a plan. 

For Cassidy's sake as much as her beloved's.