“Bon soir, Monsieur Montonee.” Kassie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She did not have anything against the man, but his pursuit of her was wearing. Despite that she favored him with a sweet smile, unwilling to hurt his feelings. He pushed his spectacles further up his nose and smiled back. He was of average height and average build. His curly brown hair gave him a very young look. She could do worse, or so Antoinette said just the other day. I am not looking for a husband.
Basille smiled. “There is a soiree at Monsieur Boigne’s tonight. I hoped you would come, s’il vous plait.”
Kassie frowned. “I am sorry, Monsieur, but as you can see by my dress I am still in mourning.”
The young man shrugged. “Ah, chere amie, has it not been long enough to leave off your mourning? Long periods of grief are so du vieux temps, these days, n’est-ce pas?”
“Tiens! I was not aware mourning was so out of fashion these days,” she said with a little ice tingeing her tone. When the man looked pained, she softened. “Perhaps I shall come for a little while, but do not expect me to dance.”
Basille nodded and gave her a triumphant look. “Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle. I shall come for you at eight o’clock.”
Kassie nodded. Basille smiled, tipped his hat, and hurried back in the direction of his shop.
She shook her head and turned the corner, hurrying up the steps to her rented lodgings. A familiar voice called out to her. “Lady Everton?”
She swung around, her eyes settling on a young sailor crossing the street toward her. Wiping a hand across her eyes she looked again. It cannot be! “Alex? What are you doing here?”
“My ship is docked ‘ere for cargo. I saw you from ze deck.” He smiled.
“I am happy to see you, Alex.” She missed his friendly banter.
Alex blushed. “And I you, how is Auggie?”
Kassie folded her arms across her chest. “He is not with me. I am alone.”
He looked puzzled for a moment, his brows knitting together. “Ah, well, I would be … pleazed to call on you, oui?”
“I would like that.” She grinned.
Alex tipped his hat. “Au revoir.”
“Au revoir, Alex,” Kassie returned, and then opened the door as he strolled away. She entered the small parlor and hung up her shawl. After kicking off her slippers she padded in her stocking feet into the small, but tidy, kitchen to put on a pot of tea. Already she was regretting accepting Basille’s invitation for the evening. She filled the kettle and set it on top of the little potbellied iron stove. After a long day she certainly did not feel like dancing and making merry. Opening the stove door, she added a few pieces of coal to the meager glow to heat the water and warm the room. Summer would be here soon but there was a still a little spring nip in the air.
She stepped into the only other room in the house, the bedchamber, and looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror. A smudge of ink marred the bridge of her nose and wisps of hair framed her face where it had come out of her tidy braid. She better hustle if she was to be ready by eight. The tea kettle whistled, and she hurried back to the kitchen. After pouring herself a cup of tea and spreading some preserves on a cold biscuit, she returned to her bedchamber. She flipped through her gowns as she munched, finally settling on a dark blue satin evening dress. Glancing at her waist in the mirror she frowned. Hopefully the dress would still fit without the usual corset underneath. Popping the remaining piece of biscuit into her mouth, she headed back to the kitchen to heat up enough water for a sponge bath. The luxury of a bathing tub was something she missed.
* * * *
Kassie finished tying her hair back with a silver ribbon and crossed the room to answer the knock at the door, snatching her reticule up from the dressing table, and donning her slippers as she went. Basille stood on the other side, dressed in a fine suit of dark green broadcloth. He smiled and held out his arm. Forcing a smile to her lips, she placed her hand on his arm. They left the little house and climbed into a rented coach for the short trip to the fancier houses of the merchant class. When they arrived at the small brick mansion, Kassie allowed Basille to help her from the coach and escort her up the steps into the modest ballroom.
Heads turned as they walked through the door and Kassie wondered for a moment why she agreed to come. Many of the women whispered behind their fans, a few she knew already nodded. They are probably wondering why such a pious widow, who spends all her free time in the church praying, would come to a social event. She lifted her chin. Who are they to judge me? Cohen would be proud to see I have grown a backbone since his death. No one is ever going to tell me what to do or how to feel again.
Music began to play as Basille escorted her to a line of chairs placed along the far wall.
“Can I get you a glass of punch?”
Kassie nodded, glad she spent all that time learning French from Alex. Her mind wandered back to their meeting on the steps of her house. It was nice to see him again. It was as if she could feel Cohen and Lucca when he talked to her. The familiar pain in her breast at the thought of Lucca returned. Will the ache go away someday soon?
Basille returned with the promised glass of punch. He handed it to her and sat beside her. Sipping the tart drink, she watched the people as they mingled and danced. The pretty pastel-colored gowns swirling and twirling mesmerized her, bright in contrast to her darker half-mourning one.
“Mademoiselle?”
She shook her head and looked at Basille. “I am sorry, you were saying?”
He patted her hand and smiled. “No need to apologize my dear. I wanted to talk to you. I have made no secret of my feelings for you, and I think you feel the same.”
The smile on her face froze into a stiff mask. Oh dear God. Is the silly little man going to ask me to marry him?
He smiled. “Since there is no one else to ask, well, I wondered if you would permit me to court you.” The look in his eyes was desperate, almost pleading.
She swallowed. Courting was the last thing on her mind right now. It was only three months since Cohen and Lucca were killed. Even if she was interested in the cloth merchant, she certainly could not consider a courtship at this time. “I am sorry, Monsieur Montonee, but I am not up to being courted just yet.”
He looked crestfallen. “Surely it has been long enough to ease your grief? I swear I will court you with the utmost respect and reverence. I will give you everything you need, a fine house, silks, servants, and anything else your heart desires.”
Kassie shook her head. “I am sorry, I am just not ready,” she replied with gentle force.
A half smile lifted the corner of his lip. “Then I shall wait until you are ready to accept my suit.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
He nodded, but his eyes took on a strange light. “Do not wait too long, Mademoiselle Kassandra, for I can be a very impatient man.”
Kassie filed the comment away as a future warning with an uneasy feeling.
Basille reached out and squeezed her hand, the strange look in his eye replaced with a sheepish grin. “I am sorry. I did not mean to speak to you in this way. Please, let me make it up to you.”
“That is quite all right. I suppose I am just tired.” Kassie withdrew her hand from his.
He nodded. “It must be hard on you to have to earn your own way.”
Kassie nodded, looking away.
“Please, allow me to show you Monsieur Boigne’s wonderful garden. He has quite an interesting collection of animals housed there.” He stood and held out his hand.
Kassie’s curiosity was roused. “What kind of animals?”
He smiled and winked. “Ah, a most impressive menagerie of African ones, I am told.”
She hesitated. “I do not think it is appropriate to walk in the gardens unescorted.”
“Ah, but all the couples here do, the walkway is lit so there is no danger of being out of sight of the main house.”
She really would like to see the strange
animals. The elephant on the dock was very exciting. Perhaps there was another one in the garden here she could view close up? She allowed him to help her to her feet. “All right.”
Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he smiled and led the way out the double doors to the garden. Kassie was relieved to discover the paths were indeed lit by lanterns hung every few paces. Basille led her to an assortment of large iron cages placed along the back wall of the garden. The first cage contained a funny looking brown animal. It swung back and forth from a perch in the cage by its long arms and tail. Kassie stepped closer and the animal let out a series of grunts and squeals. It sounded like it was cackling at her. “I have never seen anything like it,” she breathed, fascinated. “It is almost like a furry little person.”
She stepped away and wandered to the next cage. An immense spotted cat looked back at her. His intense, yellow eyed gaze raised goose bumps on her arms. When he yawned, exposing a large set of fangs, she shivered and clutched Basille’s hand. “He looks something like the statue the earl used to have from Egypt.” She took a step back as the cat stood and stretched.
Basille laughed. “Does he scare you, Kassandra?”
Kassie nodded, uncomfortably aware of Basille’s hands stroking her collarbone. When she opened her mouth to protest he pressed his clammy lips to hers, and then trailed sloppy kisses down the side of her neck. She tried to push him away, but he pinned her arms against her sides with one of his. He slipped his free hand into the top of her bodice.
“Monsieur!”
“Oh, how I want you, ma cherie.” He groaned, his erection pressing against her thigh, and then crushed his lips hard against hers in a bruising kiss.
Kassie whimpered and renewed her struggles as his fingers pinched her breast. His strong cologne made her want to sneeze, his mushy lips and roving hands repulsing her. She did the only thing she could think of and sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand. He swore, jerking his hand away and then shoved her forward, kicking her legs out from under her at the same time. She fell, face first to the ground, gasping as the wind was knocked out of her. Before she could take action he flipped her over and pinned her.
“Let me go or else I shall scream!”
He smiled, the strange light in his eyes glinting with savage intent. “Go ahead, scream. Do you think anyone would believe your word over mine if I tell them you came on to me? I know who you are, Lady Everton.” His voice grew cold and deadly calm. “Your husband is very much alive. You are hiding from him. Do you know he has offered a great amount of money for your return?”
“How do you know?” Kassie stared up at him, stunned.
“I have friends in high places in English government. All of London is a-buzz with the story of your ‘kidnapping’ and the theft of the earl’s priceless artifacts. His reward would allow me to travel and hire someone to look after my shop.” He sneered.
Kassie found her voice. “My husband would not be happy to have me returned to him ill-used.”
“Madame, the reward was offered ‘dead or alive.’” He snickered. “So, you see, if I take my sport with you first. It will not matter much to your husband.”
She swallowed. “Please Basille, let me go. You have no idea how horrible a person the earl is. He probably will not honor his reward.”
“I will take my chances.” He shrugged. “The way I see it you have two choices, my dear. You can become my willing mistress, in such case if you please me I might be persuaded to release you at some point after I have tired of you, of course. Or, I can rape you as I please then return you alive or dead to the earl.”
Kassie’s mind raced. “What if Napoleon declares war on England? You will not be able to collect such a reward.”
He shrugged again. “After I have my fill of you, perhaps Napoleon himself would delight in ransoming you to the earl. I am sure the Emperor would be most grateful to me.”
Terror filled every fiber of her being. I thought I could take care of myself. How foolish I have been. What was she to do now? Perhaps she should convince Basille to turn her over to Napoleon. If she threw herself upon the Emperor’s mercy may-hap he would let her go. If she showed him Cohen’s ring, maybe she could convince him she was betrothed to him, if he didn’t already know of Cohen’s death.
“You are running out of time, my dear. I told you I am not a very patient man.”
Kassie made up her mind in a split second as he lowered his face to hers to inflict another brutal kiss. Taking a deep breath she spit in his face and brought her knee up to connect with his groin. He let go of her with a startled howl, and she shoved against his chest with all her might, toppling him backward onto the grass.
Scrambling to her feet she scanned the garden for a way of escape. If she ran back to the ballroom, everyone would ask questions she did not want to answer. Her eyes fixed on the back gate into the alley as Basille lurched to his feet. She jumped from his reach and bolted for the exit. Please be unlocked. Basille’s footsteps pounded behind her. Was he gaining on her? She reached the gate and pulled on it. It swung open with a squeal of rusty hinges. She darted through the opening just as Basille grabbed the shoulder of her gown. The material rent with a loud rip but she jerked from his grasp, not caring that her bodice sagged open, exposing most of her chest. Her slipper flew off as she ran, the awkward patter of the remaining shoe echoing along the dark alleyway.
She ran down street after street, not knowing or caring where she was going as long as she left her tormentor behind. After darting around the corner of a building close to the docks, she paused and leaned against it, panting. She tried to quiet her breathing so she could hear if Basille still pursued her. Are there footsteps behind me? Unsure, she spun around and ran down the street. She glanced over her shoulder, but did not see anyone behind her. As she turned her head back in the direction she was running, she collided with something solid. “Ooph!” Her breath slammed from her chest as she stumbled and fell to the hard cobblestones.
“Sacre blu!” A man’s voice uttered a garbled stream of French curses over her head.
Kassie winced as she got to her feet. Her right knee ached and something warm and sticky trickled down her leg. She brushed the dirt from her scraped palms and attempted to pull her bodice together. “I am so sorry, Monsieur.”
“Lady Everton?”
Kassie jerked her gaze from the torn material. Alex stepped forward into the circle of light emitted from the gas street lamp above her head.
“Alex! You do not know how glad I am to see you.”
He glanced down at her torn dress.
She crossed her arms over her tattered bodice. “A man, Basille Montonee, was chasing me. He … he tried to … to … he tried to hurt me.” Kassie hiccuped, tears weaving their way down her cheeks.
Alex took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Come, I take you home, oui?”
Kassie nodded, and then looked back over her shoulder. The street was empty. They turned the corner and Kassie paused, half afraid to see Basille there waiting for her. The street was abandoned. She limped along beside Alex as he strolled down the street to her rental, wincing as her shoeless foot was bruised by sharp stones.
Alex helped her up the steps and into the parlor. He lit the lantern and sat her on the worn settee. “I take look, oui?” He gestured to her knee.
She cleared her throat. “That is not necessary, I am fine. It is just a scratch.”
Alex shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen. Water gurgled into the kettle and the fire snapped and popped as if he stoked it. Within minutes he reappeared with a wash basin of warm water and a cloth. He knelt in front of her and slid her skirt up to expose her shredded stocking and bloodied knee. “I take care of you.” He smiled and dipped the cloth into the water.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I said no women on my expedition. I do not care if she is your sister, an archaeological dig is no place for a woman.” The professor slammed his fist down on
the scarred desk.
Kassie looked around the professor’s study. It was well furnished with pieces from all over the world; Persian rugs, Chinese lanterns, and sandalwood accents, all boastful displays of a well-traveled man. “I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but I could not help but notice your impressive collection of foreign goods.” She favored the man with her sweetest of when his gaze swung from Alex to her. He looked her up and down like he was appraising a horse. “My former husband was a great collector of artifacts. It was my job to catalog his amazing discoveries.”
Interest sparked in the stern man’s eyes as he pulled on his scruffy white beard. “What kind of artifacts, Mademoiselle?”
“His last find, before his death, was a very rare Egyptian cat. It was made of solid gold and had emeralds for eyes.”
The captain’s smoky grey eyes widened. “You do not say? Where did he find such a thing?”
Kassie licked her lip and plied him with a coy smile. “I know a great many places my husband kept secret where such objects can be found.”
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her veiled innuendo. He arched one brow. “You would trade this information in exchange for passage with my crew?”
She nodded. “I could catalog your many acquisitions as well, plus I can cook.”
Alex nodded. “My sister is a fine cook, professor.”
The professor heaved his rotund form from his chair and gave his trousers a yank, no doubt hoping to support his enormous belly. “Deal. Mind you keep confined to your personal coach when we travel. If there is any trouble, I will see you are left by the side of the road to fend for yourself, you hear?”
Kassie nodded, tossing Alex a triumphant look.
“Now scat, before I change my mind.” The professor jerked his head toward the door.
Alex laughed as they made their way down the corridor to the worker’s quarters. “I did not think the professor would say oui, until you told him you cook.”
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