“You could say that.”
“On behalf of whom?”
“My father.”
Those dark eyes just looked, deeply. “How is he faring?”
“Better. For now.”
Penthurst nodded. He walked toward the center of the room, and the table. The sea of bodies parted to make an aisle for him, as if his mere proximity caused men to defer. Or to give him wide berth.
He picked up a pen. “I assume you have the location of this property.”
Yates took the pen and jotted down the information. “There is a tenant leasing the most likely location, but he is sure the French come in every night, so he will not object.”
Penthurst took the paper and read it. “Now that is peculiar. I can save us both time. I am sure that this property is indeed on the list already. It is not designated as Highburton’s, however. It is in trust, as I remember it. The oddity of that is why I noticed it.”
“Do you know who pressed to have it included?”
“No. They are not bribing me, after all.”
“Can you find out?” It killed him to ask. The question stuck in his throat.
Penthurst let the query hang there a good while. He finally shrugged. “Possibly. I will see.” He folded the paper. “I have neglected to offer felicitations on your marriage, Ambury. She is a beautiful woman. I always thought the rumors about her were started by less well-endowed ladies who were jealous.”
Suddenly they were dangerously close to all that drama again. “If you thought that, why—”
“Why what?”
“Southwaite said Lakewood challenged you because he heard you insult a woman.”
“A woman was at the heart of it, that part is true, but he did not challenge me over any insults that I spoke.”
Then it was worse than that. The possibilities only made his mood darken. He remembered walking into Mrs. Burton’s and seeing Penthurst standing beside Cassandra.
Stop thinking like a madman, or you will end up acting like an ass.
“As a gentleman, I certainly cannot identify her, of course. Not to you. Not to the peers,” Penthurst said. “I suppose if it is demanded of me, and my refusal to explain is not accepted, I will swing after all.”
“If so, I promise not to dance on your grave.”
Penthurst’s annoyance flared. “It is understandable that your loyalty was to him and not me. You had been friends for many years. However, he was not entirely the man you think he was, Ambury.”
“I am sure the peers will believe that, if you say so. Considering your circumstances, I am the last man you should bother convincing. Now, I must go. I thank you in advance for helping with the property, if you can. In payment, I will give you some advice.”
“What is that?”
“Crop your hair. You look antique. What was a sign of independent taste a year ago will appear merely eccentric six months from now.”
“I have been thinking I might, although my mistress would pout.”
“Then perhaps it is time to make a change there as well.”
Chapter 22
After leaving Fairbourne’s, Cassandra took a long turn in Hyde Park in order to sort things out. She was sick at heart about how badly her meeting with Herr Werner had gone. Better if she had left the entire matter alone.
He had all but said Aunt Sophie had stolen that necklace from the count. Ambury had always thought she had stolen the earrings from Highburton too, and now the evidence suggested he might have been correct.
Returning the earrings hardly resolved matters. What would Ambury do? Something honorable, which could be very bad for Aunt Sophie. It was possible that she would have been safer at Dr. Wakely’s house.
She could take her aunt and run, but to where? She was no longer free and independent. Wherever she went, Ambury would have every right to follow. Nor, she admitted, did she want to run away. She had spoken vows, and honor, her honor, required that she try and keep them.
She began wondering if she could just leave her aunt where she now resided for a good long while. The snort of a horse near her shoulder startled her out of her thoughts. She turned her head and recognized the animal at once, and his companion pulling the carriage. The coachman reined the horses in.
A footman hopped off the back of the carriage. She did not wait for him, but strode over to the carriage door. The footman hurried to open it and set down the steps, then handed her up.
Ambury sat inside. He moved so she would have the forward-facing seat. She took her time getting settled while she steeled herself for an uncomfortable ride.
“Is there some reason why you did not call for one of the family’s carriages today?” he asked.
“Perhaps I thought to take a turn through the neighborhood, then changed my mind and it was easier to hire a hackney.”
“I thought maybe you did not want any of the servants to know where you were going.”
“That too. Since you found me when you wanted to, it appears I failed. Did you tell them to follow me?”
“I did not have to. Out of concern for your safety, the butler sent two men to keep watch over you. One returned with a report when you came here. Walking out alone is one of the things you should not do any longer, if you have created a habit of it. The town is too dangerous.”
She did not like the idea that she would never be able to move without a servant in tow, but of course that was how it would be now. Emma had become accustomed to it already. Someday, however, she and Emma would have to find a way to lose their escorts and have a day to themselves, like they used to.
The park’s gates showed through the window, then the houses of Mayfair. “Where are we going?”
“Not far. I have something to show you.”
He seemed much like he had last night. Stern and distant. He said nothing else, however. No queries on where Aunt Sophie was. No lectures on the behavior he expected. Not one word or question about the earrings. His silence unsettled her more than a good row would.
They stopped on St. James’s Square. She could see Emma’s house across the way, through the trees. Ambury stepped out of the carriage, then offered his hand.
She joined him and looked around, perplexed.
“Prebles has had an estate agent looking for houses to let,” Ambury said. “This appears to be the best of the lot he proposed. What do you think of it?”
She gazed up at the façade of the house behind the carriage. It was of good size, much like Southwaite’s. “It is very nice. I appreciate the location near Emma.”
“I thought you would. I signed the lease this morning.”
He had the key with him. She stepped through airy chambers with long windows and good proportions. The house was furnished with handsome furniture that would be more than adequate.
They mounted the stairs. “When will we move here?”
“I suppose we can as soon as servants are hired. Those from Highburton’s have been cleaning here today, and changing bedding.”
The mistress’s chambers had been decorated in creams and pale greens, with crisp toile drapes on the bed. They and the rest of the fabrics appeared so clean that she guessed they were the servants’ doing.
She especially liked her new dressing room. It was not nearly as expansive as the one she currently used, but the smaller size made it more of a private retreat. It had a cozy window seat from where one could see the back gardens.
She sat down and admired the view. “I think I should like living here very much.”
“I am glad.” He walked over and looked down at her. “You are beautiful in the light of this window, Cassandra. I think that I will enjoy seeing you sit here while this is our home.”
The flattery surprised her. He sounded sincere, even if he still appeared less than amiable. The way he looked at her made her warm and flustered. For an instant, he did not seem as distant as he had been, even in the carriage. Something of the easy familiarity that they had forged during their first nights passed be
tween them.
They were supposed to be having a row, not a romantic moment.
He reached into his coat and removed something. He took her hand and poured the contents of a velvet sack into her hand. The earrings.
Ah. Now they would have the row.
“I found these when I went to bed. And your note. They are the reason for the cold welcome I received last night, I think.”
“In part. Your manner inspired a good deal of winter too.”
“I had expected to spend a fortnight in private company together with you. I was slow to accept that your aunt would take precedence over all else, even your husband.”
There it was. The scold that begged for an argument. Was he wounded that she had not thought of him first? Or was this only about pride and property?
Last night she might have asked, and in doing so shown how foolish his pique was. Her devotion to Sophie should not surprise him. After all, they had married because of it.
Today’s events had disheartened her so much that she chose to say nothing at all.
He gestured to her palm. “How did you learn about them?”
“I saw a portrait and the woman was wearing them,” she said. “That is how I know they belong to your family. Also how I know that you were investigating my aunt with all those questions about their history. You knew their ultimate provenance better than I did.”
“I will not deny it. I should have explained once we married, but the earrings, and that investigation, had faded from my mind for a while.”
“Since you have them back now, there is no need to turn your mind to it again.”
“It is not that simple.”
His tone sounded more soothing than autocratic. She would prefer the latter. He was not going to leave this alone.
“My aunt bought them at a pawnbroker.”
“My father believes they were stolen before my grandfather died. He thinks the family was betrayed. He does not say whom he suspects, but I think he does suspect someone.” He took her hand again, and closed her fingers over the jewels so she grasped them. “He asks about it. It matters to him. If not, I would have never pursued it once I repurchased them at the auction.”
She would never win if she had to argue against this duty he felt to his father. “A servant must have taken them and sold them to the pawnbroker.”
He looked out the window above her head. She could see he debated something. “Your aunt had a lot of jewels, Cassandra.”
“Her lovers—”
“A great many jewels.”
She could not hold her indignant pose any longer. The day had undermined her confidence in Sophie, and her strength crumbled. Everything had become too muddled. She looked away, defeated and miserable. “I beg you not to tell my brother what you suspect. He would use it most cruelly.”
He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head again.
“I said that I would protect her no matter what, as long as it did not compromise my honor.”
Her heart felt like it was breaking. Protecting a thief was probably out of the question then.
“We need to know if any of her jewels were stolen,” he said.
“And if they were?”
He sat beside her on the window seat. “Cassandra, if she did this with other jewels, they have to go back to their owners. I cannot have a woman living in my home who I know to be a thief who never even made restitution.”
“I do not think that she can live with us now, anyway. Gerald will take her if she does. He will do it to punish me, even though I am now out of reach. It is clear he has not given up.”
“I will deal with your brother. He will not dare remove a person from my home. Prebles is preparing a petition to Chancery that should resolve the matter for good. Your brother will not succeed in becoming her guardian instead of me, so you are not to worry about that any longer.”
She took a deep breath to help her composure, but some tears blurred her sight anyway. Despite his anger from last night, despite her cold welcome, he had spent today arranging to fulfill his promise. “You have done this, even though you know—that is, even though you suspect—that she…”
“I said I would, didn’t I? As for what I suspect—I need to find out what we are facing with her. It is time for you to let me talk to her.”
“I never kept you from talking to her. She did that all on her own.”
“You could have helped. You did not. You delayed and dodged instead. You avoided learning the truth, and I allowed it out of sentiment.”
He had allowed it. If he thought his family’s property had been stolen, he could have found a way to talk to Sophie. He did not have to wait thirty days for Cassandra to pry memories out of her. He could have sworn information to a magistrate, and Sophie would have had to explain herself as best she could.
“That was kind of you,” she said. “I had not realized how you restrained yourself. Was it because you did not want to have to tell your parents that the person who betrayed them was not a servant, but an old friend? Or were you just being considerate of an old woman who is no longer a threat to anyone’s jewels?”
He smiled just enough for those lines near his mouth to deepen. “I think I did it to give myself time to pursue you. Also, an excuse to see you.”
What a disarming thing to say. Her heart made a little girlish flip.
“So it was all part of your plot to add me to your list of conquests? I am shocked, Ambury. It is perhaps fitting justice that it all worked out so badly.”
“I seem to remember you surrendering.” He kissed her lips. “So I do not think it ended all that badly, for me, at least.”
It touched her deeply that he said that, especially on a day that followed such a bad night. “Not all that badly for me either, if I am honest,” she whispered.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, long enough for her to stir. Not only her body responded but her raw emotions did too. She felt a lot of care in that hold and kiss.
He watched as he brushed his thumb over her lips. “The house is ours. The bedding is new. I am of a mind to see if it all suits us.”
The idea appealed to her for reasons other than pleasure. She needed to hold on to the solace that his touch gave her.
She set the earrings down on the cushion, then accepted his hand and followed him into the bedchamber.
Yates waited while Cassandra’s deft fingers released the buttons on his shirt. She stood in front of him, naked, doing for him as he had done for her. Silence surrounded them. Even the sounds of the city did not penetrate this chamber that looked out over the gardens.
No servants. Not another soul on the premises. That would change very soon, but he liked their isolation and the novelty of this place today.
She looked up at him, her eyes bright with naughty lights, while she unfastened his lower garments. Her touch deliberately worked more than buttons and fabric.
“I expected a terrible argument with you today,” she said. “The kind from which couples never recover. I think perhaps you intended one, but chose another path.”
He had, and in doing so, had left things unsaid that probably should not have been said anyway. It took more than vows to create trust, let alone loyalty.
She pushed down his garments and took his shaft firmly in her grasp. “I am feeling grateful today, for this house and for that petition, and for your willingness to suspect instead of know. How do mistresses show they are grateful?”
He pulled her into an embrace so he could hold her to his body. Her skin seemed cool, but warmed quickly as flesh met flesh. “A man would have to be an idiot to not be glad his wife tells him to treat her like a mistress. Yet, try as I might, I cannot think of you that way.”
“Because I lack experience and skill? You are supposed to rectify that.”
A man would have to be a complete idiot to do anything other than agree that was the plan, and move on to the next lesson. “Because you are my wife. That makes it different, I h
ave discovered.”
“How inconvenient for you.”
“Hell, yes. But there it is. Even when the acts are the same, the experience is not.”
“By different, you mean less scandalous, I suppose, and hence less exciting. More proper, and with lines drawn around what is done. I am flattered, Yates, but it is perhaps too bad for you. I was working up my nerve to be very, very bold in a manner I am told men expect of their mistresses, but I do not want you thinking less of me.”
He moved his hands over her, thinking the most ordinary pleasure would be bold enough for today, or any day, if such lush warmth were his to hold. “Bold in what way?”
She placed a row of kisses to his chest. “I was told once that I have a scandalous mouth. I later learned what was meant by that. It shocked me, but I have perhaps become accustomed to the notion. It is not something that wives do, however.”
His arousal doubled in intensity at once. He grasped her bottom and pressed her closer, so his shaft pushed against her stomach. “Actually, I am told that some wives do,” he muttered between biting kisses.
“Truly?”
“Mmm.”
“Who would have guessed? So you would not mind?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I may do it wrong. I have never…” She looked in his eyes and stopped talking. A devilish grin broke. “Oh, you would not mind at all, I think.” She looked down. Her fingertips did a little dance up the length of his shaft and tapped the tip. “Let me see if…” She bent over and nibbled.
Intense sensations charged through him like lightning. He gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw felt locked.
“It might be easier if I knelt.”
“Perhaps.” Yes. Now.
She lowered herself. Her position made the anticipation unbearable. He saw her elegant back and the round flare of her hips and the erotic rise of her bottom.
The dark cloud of her hair angled toward him. Then velvet heat encased him, and he went blind.
“I think that new pleasure benefits me as much as you,” Cassandra muttered between deep gasps. “This is delicious.”
He withdrew slowly and thrust deeply again. What she had done did not really require this long, slow joining once he recovered. He could just as easily take her quickly.
The Conquest of Lady Cassandra Page 25