“The drawing room, I think you said. That would be these large doors here, I assume.”
“Did I say that?” He truly did not seem to know. “Hardly fit to be called a drawing room in the normal way. More of a sitting room, if you will, but comfortable for my lord, I believe.”
“I am sure it will be comfortable for me as well.” Cassandra opened the doors. “Oh, most comfortable. Is this appealing arrangement of the chairs your doing, Mr. Higgins? Or does Lord Ambury have other servants?”
Higgins bowed his head modestly. “I do for my lord alone. Even a bit of cooking, if I may say so.”
Cassandra sat on a nice bench near the fireplace. Aunt Sophie sat on a chair even closer to it, and her gray self seemed to blend into the gray stones of the hearth.
“I do not intend to be a burden. I will wait here and be quiet as a mouse,” Cassandra said.
“I hate to think that you will waste a whole afternoon waiting for an arrival that will never occur.”
“I doubt it will be wasted. I have much to think about, and this chamber is pleasant enough to encourage serious contemplation. In fact, you are so helpful and kind, perhaps you would consider giving me some advice on a matter that concerns me deeply.”
He coughed and composed himself. “If I can be of service to you, then of course I must be.”
“I had a little argument with a friend on a question of etiquette. Or maybe it was a question of morals. My friend faced a peculiar dilemma—” A tap on her arm distracted her. Sophie leaned toward her and whispered in her ear.
“Mr. Higgins, my servant sees the library through those doors. She is something of a bluestocking. Indeed, that is how she came to be a paid companion—all that reading made her unfit for marriage. Would you mind if she perused the volumes on the shelves? She promises not to touch any.”
“Of course she may. Nor do I think my lord would mind if she removed one or two to look more closely. The best bindery is used, as she will soon see.”
Without a word, the gray ghost rose and drifted across the chamber to the library door. Mr. Higgins watched. A puzzled frown formed on his face.
Cassandra claimed his attention again. “As I was saying, my friend had a dilemma. She wrote a letter to her mother, and posted it, but soon regretted its contents. She told me that she planned to intercept the letter prior to her mother reading it. Well, I said that was stealing. She insisted it was not. She claimed that until her mother opened it, the letter was still in transit. Which of us was correct, do you think?”
“I suppose, once posted, it belongs to the postal service, until it is delivered and paid for by the recipient, at which time it belongs to the recipient.”
“So you agree that if intercepted, it is not stealing?”
“Not from her mother, if it is done before delivery. Of course, that would not be possible. The postal service does not hand over the mail.”
“No. I suppose not.” Behind Mr. Higgins, a gray form floated this way and that in the library. “Here was the situation that my friend faced. If she intercepted that letter, she would be doing a kindness. If her mother read it, the contents would only bring grief. You can see the moral quandary, I am sure.”
Mr. Higgins nodded and looked sympathetic. “I do not envy her the choice. How did she resolve it?”
“She had her mother’s maid remove it from the delivered mail and return it before her mother saw it.”
Higgins frowned on hearing that a servant had stolen the letter.
“Now she wants to give the maid a gift. A token of her appreciation in sparing her mother all that sorrow. What so you think, Mr. Higgins? Can she do this without it tainting the maid’s good intentions?”
“I suppose, since the maid risked her mistress’s displeasure, a small gift might be in order.”
“How small? If it were you, for example, what would you think was in order, but not so much as to smell of payment for services rendered?”
“Me? I would never do such a thing, so no amount would be in order.”
“Not even to spare your master great anguish?”
“I can’t imagine a letter would ever cause Lord Ambury anguish.”
“Perhaps a letter would lead him to challenge a man, and end up dead. Would it not be worth a slight deception to avoid that?”
“Dead! Goodness, what was in that letter your friend wrote to her mother? Something very shocking, I am beginning to suspect, if you equate it with an insult so severe as to require a duel.”
Cassandra looked from one side to the other, as if checking to be sure no one would hear. The only other person in the chambers had disappeared in the library. Mr. Higgins leaned forward, more interested in the answer than he would probably want to admit.
“She had confessed to a liaison with a man,” Cassandra whispered.
“No!”
“A most illustrious man. I dare not say his name, but I assure you that this man is very well-known to everyone in the realm.”
“You mean…Surely not…Goodness, she put this in writing? How indiscreet, even if it was to a mother.”
“Exactly. So you can see the dilemma. For her, it was a matter of life and death in a way, and the prospect of a huge scandal loomed that would affect her whole family and even the reputation of—but I must not say! Surely it was as significant as an insult that would cause a duel, I think you will agree.”
“Oh, my, yes.”
“That servant did a good turn not only to my friend, but to England itself, I think.”
“By, Zeus, it was a most noble deception.”
“How well you put it. So, how much of a gift would be appropriate? If it were you who performed such a noble deception, for example?”
Higgins debated the matter. “Hard to say. One risks being sacked, doesn’t one? There would be no recommendation either. Indeed, one’s livelihood might be over for good. Noble or not, such a deception has huge risks, and the gift might reflect that.”
Cassandra worried that Higgins increased the size of the “gift” with each mutter. “But it should not be so large as to appear to be a bribe, I think.”
“Of course. Of course. Still—”
“I think we must go now, my lady.” The frail declaration interrupted. The old woman who uttered it stood right behind Mr. Higgins.
He turned, startled by the reminder that he and Cassandra were not alone.
“In a few minutes, we shall,” Cassandra said. She had Higgins close to naming a figure.
“I do not feel well, my lady. I am quite faint.”
Higgins was at her side at once. “You should sit. I have salts here somewhere. I will—”
“Fresh air is all I require, thank you.” Aunt Sophie sent a glare Cassandra’s way.
“Of course,” Cassandra said. “How unkind of me not to understand that if you spoke up at all, it was most necessary.” She walked over to Sophie and slid an arm around her back. “Thank you, Mr. Higgins. For all your kind advice. I am rather glad that Lord Ambury was not at home. You have helped me enormously, and my business with him can be concluded another day.”
With much fussing and worry on Higgins’s part, they helped Aunt Sophie down to the waiting coach. As soon as Mr. Higgins returned to the chambers, Cassandra expressed her displeasure.
“I had him three-quarters there. He was about to name a sum, and I would then broach my situation and—”
“As it happened, that was not necessary.” Aunt Sophie opened her reticule. She removed a letter and set it on Cassandra’s lap.
It was her letter to Ambury.
“You stole it!”
“By your own explanation, and that of Mr. Higgins, it was not Ambury’s until he read it.”
“Until it was delivered.”
“Oh, I missed that part. Goodness, how careless of me. Tell the man to turn this coach around, and we will return it at once.”
Cassandra was hardly going to do that. Nor should she upbraid her aunt, no matter how disgracefu
l this theft had been. She now held the letter in her hand, instead of it lying in those chambers waiting for Ambury to see it.
She turned it over to break the seal and see if its language was as insulting as her memory insisted. The seal, however, was already broken.
“Aunt Sophie, I wish you had not read it. I understand your curiosity, but now I am embarrassed that you know just how immoderate I was.”
Sophie’s sharp interest snapped to Cassandra’s face, then to the letter in her hand. “I did not open it. I slipped it out of a large stack of mail on a desk in the library and stuck it in my reticule without looking at it much at all.”
That was not good news. The seal was broken. It was unthinkable that Higgins had pried into his master’s mail.
Probably the seal had accidentally broken in transit. Yes, that was what happened.
The alternative did not bear thinking about.
Chapter 4
The house on Adams Street was a small abode on a lane toward the northern edge of Mayfair. Yates judged from its exterior that it provided comfort for Lady Cassandra and her aunt, but not luxury. It rose only three stories and looked all the more modest due to the two larger, wider houses that flanked it.
There would be servants, but not many. Possibly some sort of carriage was available, but only one, and not a grand coach.
He knew all about the economies such an existence required. His own father’s lack of generosity left him living the masculine equivalent of this house. A man, however, had the option of supplementing his income, although, as the heir to a peer, strict discretion was in order when he sought employment. Fortunately, he had discovered in investigative missions an occupation that not only stimulated his intellect and provided some adventure, but one where the client desired discretion as much as he did.
No butler or footman opened the door, but rather a woman who appeared to be a housekeeper. She took him to a small drawing room upstairs and walked away with his card.
The chamber proved less feminine than he expected. Fabrics the colors of jewels covered the furniture. Dark wood abounded. One wall sported three framed prints by Piranesi. Not views of Rome, such as his father owned. Rather these were the bizarre prison engravings with their skeins of oppressive stairways leading nowhere.
Did they belong to Cassandra or the aunt? The images reflected a deep streak of independent taste and thinking.
In Cassandra’s case, she was not merely independent, he now knew, but irreverent. Irresponsible. Irritating. She was probably guilty of all the bad behavior all the ir- words in the language alluded to.
He had cause to believe Cassandra Vernham had crossed the line from bold to brazen, and held no respect for even the basic proprieties and rules. It changed everything, and he no longer felt an obligation to couch his dealings with her in the sort of pleasantries that would save her pride.
“Lord Ambury. How good of you to call.” Lady Cassandra addressed him immediately on entering the chamber. With her tumbling dark curls and ivory skin, and her body draped in a diaphanous, Grecian-inspired pale yellow dress that floated with each step, she appeared both lush and luscious. “I trust all is well with your father.”
“He is better. He is insisting on returning to town, so he will be close to any developments in the war.”
“Even so, it is a sad time for you. I am sorry for that.”
She appeared sincere. For a few moments, he allowed the balm of her sympathy to soothe the ragged emotions that the situation with his father had carved. Then he set that aside. His righteous irritation with her rose again.
“Have you reconsidered allowing me to see your aunt?”
“It is not my decision. She is not some old lady under my care.” She gestured for the woman who had met him at the door and who now stood near the wall, waiting to serve if called. She handed over his card. “Merriweather, bring this to my aunt. Tell her that Viscount Ambury has called on her.”
It did not take Merriweather more than a minute to return and say that Lady Sophie could not receive today.
Cassandra dismissed the maid. “My aunt is jealous of her privacy now. Please do not take it personally, Lord Ambury.”
She spoke sweetly. Innocently. The sparkle in her eyes could entrance a man who was not careful.
“I do take it personally. According to my man Higgins, she is hardly the recluse you say.”
She batted those thick lashes at him. She widened her blue eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”
Damnation, the woman was treating him like a fool. “He said an old retainer accompanied you to my chambers yesterday. Your aunt, I assume.”
“You assume a great deal, but then you have the reputation for doing so with women.”
“Are you saying your chaperone yesterday was not your aunt?”
“Higgins’s description of her as a servant should settle it for you. Surely your man can spot the difference between a servant and a lady.”
“Not if the lady is working hard to appear as a servant.”
“You give Mr. Higgins too little credit.”
“On the contrary, I give you and your aunt a great deal of it. If the two of you set out to deceive Higgins, he would not have stood a chance.” He moved closer to her. “Did you flirt with him? Were you that bold? That shameless? Did you captivate him with your attention and flatter him by insisting on conversation? Did you press your advantage as his better to throw him off his guard?”
“What peculiar accusations you make, Lord Ambury. I called to press for a conclusion of our business, not to press my advantage.”
“I doubt that. Having written that letter, you would not want to witness my reaction to it.”
She stilled. She blinked twice. She donned a mask of innocence. “Letter? What letter?”
“You know what letter. The angry, demanding, insulting one in which you accused me of being a scoundrel, a blackguard, a fraud, a—what was it? Oh, yes, a liar. The letter you stole from my library yesterday.”
He could see her flush from the edge of her bodice to her hairline. “Oh,” she said. “That letter.”
Ambury dominated the sitting room’s space and air. His vitality imposed itself on every damned inch of it. A tall dark column of lithe strength, his presence and energy barely left Cassandra room to stand.
Yet stand she did. She had no choice. She had a lot of practice in facing down people like Ambury, and it helped her now.
His eyes smoldered so hotly that their blue color could not be seen. His jaws appeared carved out of rock. The line of his mouth looked almost as hard.
“Higgins said you were not in residence,” she said. “It was my hope to retrieve the letter before you read it.”
“I stopped here for a day only before going to Essex. I have not taken up residence of a public nature. Nor does it matter. Whether you took it before I read it, or after, it was not retrieved. It was stolen.”
“I was most distraught when I wrote that, and I regretted it almost at once. It was very wrong to write those things. However—”
“However?”
“My apology about taking the letter stands, but I will not apologize at all for insisting that you pay me what is owed. I have waited months for you to settle up on those earrings. I consigned them and the other jewels to that auction because I needed the funds. I am not some tradesman who can extend credit indefinitely, and due to circumstances that I cannot explain, my frustration got the better of me. So I apologize for the letter’s worst insults, but I do not regret making sure that you attend to this matter now instead of months from now.”
He glared at her. She steeled her spine so she would not flinch.
“So have you come to settle today, or only to berate me about my behavior?” she finally asked. “If I must still wait until next week, so be it, but that is the extent of my patience.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “You are too bold by half.”
“Bold enough to sell the earrings elsewhere if I must, al
ong with the ring you left with me after the auction as surety.”
“Even if you sell all of it, you will never get what I bid.”
“That is why I have waited. But I can wait no longer and must do what is necessary.”
A scowl still marred his brow, but it furrowed more in thought than anger now. “I simply want to know how your aunt came to own the earrings. Once I document the jewels’ history, I will settle everything immediately.”
“I never said those earrings came from my aunt.”
“You never said they did not, so I assumed—”
“Too much, once again. However, I will admit to that part of their history now.”
“Then establishing their provenance should not take long at all. Since she will not see me, I ask that you raise the matter with her.”
“And if I refuse?”
“In bidding on those earrings, I was buying information as well as jewels. Without the information, I have received only half a loaf.”
“My consignment at the auction was jewelry, not information. You are too much trouble. I will sell them elsewhere and—”
“I have been told that the earrings may have been stolen, you see. I am sure that you do not want to trade in stolen goods. The law frowns on that.” He tossed out that accusation ever so calmly.
It took her a few moments to realize she had heard correctly. “Stolen? Who told you something so outrageous?”
“I cannot say. I am sure you see my problem, however. I would not want to give them to someone, only to have a claim made by someone else.”
“I think I see a man putting me off again and finding a new game to do so.”
He was right in front of her with four long strides. To her shock, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her head so he could look right into her eyes. “Do not insult me again. You may not be a man, and I cannot call you out, but there are other duels besides those of arms, and you are within a hairsbreadth of requiring one.”
“Do your worst, Ambury. See what short work I make of whatever weapons you think you have. I have battled better than you.”
The Conquest of Lady Cassandra Page 5