But Paulson had something to tell him.

'Lady Sheringford and the Duchess of Moreland and Baroness Montford are here, my lord,' he said. 'They are in the ballroom, I believe. They /did/ say that they would not stay for luncheon, but they have been here longer than an hour and have doubtless forgotten how late it is. I have taken it upon myself to have a cold repast set out for them. I will add a place for you, my lord. All will be ready in ten minutes.'

His sisters? In the /ballroom/?

It did not take any great intellectual effort to guess the reason why.

They were taking charge before he could even ask them to. They were planning his betrothal ball.

'Thank you, Paulson,' he said as he turned to the staircase.

He took the stairs two at a time.

Should he /tell/ them? he wondered. About the betrothal being a mock one, as far as Cass was concerned, that was? He would not, he decided before he reached the top of the stairs. It was an irrelevant point. By the end of the Season the betrothal was going to be real on both their parts. They were going to marry during the summer. At Warren Hall, he hoped, though he would be quite agreeable to St. George's here in town if that was what she wanted when the time came.

He found his sisters standing in the middle of the ballroom, their heads tipped back to regard the chandeliers overhead. There were three of the latter, it being a large and magnificent room, though it had not been much used in his time. A single gentleman did not have a great deal of opportunity to host lavish entertainments in his own home.

His betrothal ball would be an exception. He looked forward to it with some enthusiasm.

Stephen stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.

'I have counted seventy candle holders in this chandelier. There will be an equal number in the one at the other end. The middle one is larger.

It must hold a hundred candles or more. That is at least two hundred and fifty candles in all, not counting the wall sconces. It will be an /impossible/ extravagance. The candles alone will cost a fortune.'

The voice was coming from the orchestra dais at the far end of the room.

Stephen had not noticed her before she spoke up.

Cassandra.

Her head was tipped back too.

As if Paulson and the housekeeper would not know how many candles would be needed to light the ballroom – without having to count holders and give themselves a crick in the neck into the bargain.

'I was about to send for the reserves when I heard my house had been invaded,' Stephen said, raising his voice. 'But it would be a pointless exercise, I can see. You have taken possession until after the betrothal ball, I suppose?'

'Unless /you/ want to plan it all on your own, Stephen,' Margaret said as he walked farther into the room.

He grinned as he kissed her on the cheek and turned to do likewise for his other two sisters.

'Perhaps,' he said, 'I ought to call out the reserves after all to make sure none of you escape before the day.'

Cassandra was approaching along the ballroom floor, looking slightly pink in the cheeks.

He went to meet her and twined an arm about her waist before dipping his head to kiss her briefly on the lips. It was a heady sensation, seeing her like this in his own home.

'My love,' he said.

'Stephen,' she said as he turned her so that they were facing his sisters.

They all wore identical smug expressions.

'We went out for coffee and cakes,' Cassandra said. 'I was congratulated by at least a score of people, Stephen, though the notice has not even appeared in the papers yet. It was all quite dizzying. And gratifying,' she added as if as an afterthought.

'It is a good thing, then,' he said, 'that we meant what we said when we announced our betrothal at the ball last night.'

Her eyes smiled at him. There were identical smiles on his sisters' faces. He wondered how they really felt about his betrothal.

'A very good thing,' Cassandra agreed. 'Though it was /you/ who made the announcement.'

'As was only right and proper,' Meg said. 'One shudders to imagine what would have been the reaction if /you/ had made it, Cassandra.'

It was a comment that sent all the ladies into paroxysms of merriment.

'And the very /idea/,' Nessie said, 'that you might /not/ have meant it, Stephen. Or that Cassandra might have contradicted you. It makes me feel quite vaporish just to /think/ of it.'

'And we would not have had this lavish ball to plan,' Kate added. 'Or the even more lavish wedding this summer.'

They all chose to be hugely amused again as if they were in some sort of conspiracy against him.

Stephen hugged Cassandra closer to his side and smiled down at her.

'I see that you and my sisters are getting along famously,' he said. 'I might have warned you that they would not wait until after the wedding to take you under their wing.'

'We were discussing the colors of the floral arrangements before we turned our attention to the chandeliers,' she said. 'We all agree that the effect has to be bright and sunny, like a garden, though we have not yet decided exactly /what/ colors there will be or how many.'

'Yellow and white,' he suggested, 'with lots of greenery?'

'Perfect.' She smiled into his eyes.

'Inspired,' Nessie said. 'Cassandra is going to wear a sunshine yellow gown, Stephen. It will look quite stunning with her coloring, though of course she would look quite stunning even in mud brown. I am /mortally/ jealous of that hair.'

'Paulson will scold me for a month,' he said, 'if I do not spirit you all to the dining room within the next five minutes. He has had a cold luncheon set out for us all.'

'Oh,' Cassandra said, 'I really must not – '

' – say no,' he said hastily. 'I agree. You really must not. You would not enjoy being on the wrong side of Paulson for the rest of your life, Cass.'

'I am rather hungry,' Kate said, sounding surprised. 'Of course, I resisted having a cake with my coffee. Paulson is a dear, and I shall tell him so.'

Stephen's sisters made their way out of the room without further ado. He kept Cassandra where she was for a few moments longer, until they had the ballroom to themselves.

'I was coming to call on you later,' he said. 'I could scarcely wait. I have been thinking of you all morning instead of concentrating upon the business of the House. You look lovely in that particular shade of pink.

It ought to clash horribly with your hair. How clever of you to know that it would not.'

'Oh, Stephen,' she said with a sigh. 'I /wish/ last evening had not happened. You and your sisters are so dreadfully… /decent/.'

He grinned at her.

'If you are still bent upon making this a temporary betrothal,' he said,

'you will discover how horribly /indecent/ I can be, Cass. I will fight for you quite mercilessly and with every dirty tactic I can muster.'

She laughed and cupped his cheek with one palm.

He kissed her, prolonging the embrace just long enough to leave her slightly breathless.

'An angel with grubby wings,' she said. 'It is a contradiction in terms.'

He took her hand in his, laced their fingers together, and led her in the direction of the dining room. Bless his sisters for bringing her here.

To his own home.

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