Cassandra took in a breath. That was no careless driving for the sake of it, the carriage fled from highwaymen!
She grabbed her gun and untethered her horse from a tree branch. She whispered to Jimmy, “Follow on the pony and make certain the other gun is loaded.”
Cassandra leapt on her horse and galloped toward the fleeing carriage. As she approached, she saw the men had got ahead of it and forced it to slow. It had finally come to a stop.
Cassandra spurred Juno and, as they neared it, she wheeled in her horse. She raised her shotgun at the men on horseback and yelled, “I’ll take one of your heads if you do not clear off!”
The three men had initially appeared confused to see a lady aiming a fowling piece at them, but then they began to laugh.
“See that!” one of them cried. “We are to be shot at by a lady! Who here fears being hit?”
“Not I,” called one.
“Only if I were much fatter and presented a bigger target,” the other said.
Cassandra could see that they were not afraid of her gun because it was inconceivable to them that she could shoot it. Jimmy had reached her on his pony. She whispered, “As soon as I fire, we switch guns and you reload.”
Jimmy nodded. Cassandra turned to Johnny standing on the ridge and signaled him to launch a clay ball, hoping he would do as she asked, despite the situation he now viewed.
Johnny only hesitated a moment, and then loaded the slingshot and let loose a ball high into the air. Cassandra watched its trajectory and took in the wind direction, aimed and fired.
The clay exploded into a thousand fragments and fell to the ground.
Cassandra threw her gun to Jimmy with one hand and caught the loaded gun he threw with the other.
“Well?” she called, as Jimmy reloaded the gun she’d just fired. “Your heads present a far larger target than that which I have just blown out of the sky.”
The three men seemed to hesitate.
“I have two guns and remarkably good aim. That means only one of you will have the chance to escape while I reload. Who is it to be?”
Cassandra leveled her gun and motioned it back and forth, as if deciding who she ought to shoot first.
The man who had spoken first was the first to turn tail and run. The other two, seeing they were no longer to wonder who would be shot and who would not, as there were sufficient bullets for them both, quickly did as their leader.
Cassandra found herself breathing heavily as the three highwaymen clattered off through the trees. Now that the danger had passed, she felt as wobbly as a newborn foal. Though she had aimed at no end of birds and clay balls, this was the first time she’d aimed at a man. She really did not know if she would have had the courage to shoot and thanked the heavens she’d not been forced to find out.
A curtain drew aside and an elegant, older lady leaned her head out the window of the carriage. “You are Miss Knightsbridge, I think?”
Cassandra felt a little wave of irritation pass through her. She supposed her reputation had become such that any lady seen with a shotgun in her hands was instantly recognized as Miss Knightsbridge.
She nodded, remembering she’d vowed to be as she was and never mind the naysayers. Those that did not approve of her habits could very well not look at them.
The lady said, “I am the Dowager Duchess of Carlisle, just now on my way to see your father.”
“Your Grace!” Cassandra said, her thoughts all in a muddle. Why should Lord Hampton’s grandmother have arrived? Her father had said nothing of the visit. Though they had corresponded these many years, the lady had never come to Trebly Hall.
What a time for her to come! She presumed the lady arrived in response to her father’s letter outlining what had occurred and Lord Hampton’s hand in it. But why come? Why not simply respond by letter?
The dowager turned to Jimmy and said, “What is your name, young man?”
Jimmy looked as if nobody in his life had ever inquired into his name. “Jimmy, Your Grace,” he stuttered.
“Jimmy,” the Dowager said, “might you and your friend up there on the hill manage to take back the horses so that Miss Knightsbridge may ride with me?”
Jimmy, appearing to receive this request as any knight given a noble commission, nodded enthusiastically. “Me and Johnny will see to it, Your Grace. We’ll see to it all efficient like.”
“Excellent,” the Dowager said.
Cassandra did not see what else was to be done but acquiesce to the dowager’s arrangements. She dismounted her horse and handed her gun to Jimmy.
“My dear Miss Knightsbridge,” the Dowager said. “Perhaps bring a gun with you. Loaded, of course. One never knows if a scoundrel who’s run off might find his courage lying about in a heap somewhere and decide to return.”
Cassandra thought that idea full of good sense, though she was rather surprised that the elegant elderly lady should wish to have a girl with a gun in her carriage.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said.
“Ma’am will do,” the dowager said. “No need for the daughter of my old friend to stand on ceremony.”
Jimmy handed back her gun and Cassandra made her way to the carriage. As she got in, the Dowager called to her coachman. “Well, Bradley, have you recovered enough from this adventure to carry on?”
Bradley, though he still appeared rather shaken, tipped his hat. It was not a moment before they were on their way to Trebly Hall.
The Dowager’s carriage was richly appointed, the seats a fine leather and the sides padded beneath silk coverings. There were all manner of fur throws folded on the seats. Seated on one particular pile of blankets was a cream-colored Pomeranian, its eyes bright and staring at her.
“That is George,” the Dowager said. “Lovely company but entirely useless against highwaymen.”
Upon hearing his name, George let out an appreciative yap toward the coach’s roof, having no idea his usefulness against highwaymen had been so recently disparaged.
“You, however,” the dowager said, eyeing Cassandra, “have proved mightily helpful against those devils.”
Cassandra supposed the dowager both grateful and shocked that a girl should wield a gun. “I know it is not usual—”
“I care nothing for usual, Miss Knightsbridge. Usual, in my opinion, is highly overrated.”
Cassandra was gratified by the dowager’s view but could not help continuing to wonder why the lady had come. “Pray, ma’am,” she said, “has your visit been long planned?”
“You mean, does your father know I am set to descend upon his house? He does not. But then, he’s made the mistake of repeatedly writing that I should come any time. Any time, it appears, has arrived.”
Cassandra’s mind raced at all that should be done to accommodate a duchess. A room was not even ready!
“Miss Knightsbridge,” the dowager said, “I would dislike having any mystery or words hanging unsaid between us. I am certain you will have guessed I come in response to your father’s letter about what has befallen you, and my grandson’s hand in it.”
Cassandra nodded, but that was all she could muster for an answer.
“I might wax on about my fury, or what fury I heaped upon my grandson’s head, or how sorry he is about the whole thing, but none of that would be particularly helpful to you.”
At the mention of Lord Hampton, Cassandra found she could not keep her emotions in check. Each day that passed had seen her rage harden it into something vengeful. And yet, underneath her anger was still a yearning she worked to stamp out.
She said, “It is rather helpful, Ma’am, to know that somebody has heaped fury upon him. For myself, I have begun the habit of imagining the clay balls I shoot out of the sky are your grandson’s head.”
Cassandra instantly regretted her words. So far, the dowager had been kind, but if she were forced to side one way or the other, of course she must side with her grandson. Images of him being shot out of the sky could not be welcome.
&n
bsp; Rather than appear annoyed, the dowager laughed heartily. “As well you should, and as well I would if I were you. Fire away, Miss Knightsbridge, if it brings you any sense of satisfaction. However, I think of enacting a scheme which you may find more satisfying than that.”
Cassandra looked with interest at the dowager, and then tried not to laugh upon noticing George appeared just as interested—ears up and unblinking.
“I speak of bringing you back to London in triumph, my dear. And, as if my little scheme was not wonderful enough, I may now add that Miss Knightsbridge, through her uncommonly good sense, has saved my life and my jewels.”
Though Cassandra was gratified that the dowager took such an interest in her, she could not wish for any scheme enacted upon her behalf.
“I would rather not return to London under any circumstances, ma’am,” Cassandra said. “It is a poisonous place.”
The dowager patted her hand and said, “Well, we’ll talk about it.”
*
To say that the viscount was surprised by the Dowager’s arrival had been an understatement. However, her father never stayed in a shocked state for long and so quickly recovered himself.
It was Maidencraft who was nearly struck down by the news. Cassandra could sympathize—had their stalwart butler been apprised in advance, all manner of preparations would have been made. As it was, he’d sent maids running one way and footmen another to patch things together as best they could.
Mayhem, always ready for any new development, stared fascinated at the little Pomeranian that had trotted in behind the dowager as she entered the house. George, always conscious of his diminutive size and determined that it should not be held against him, had marched up to May and growled ferociously.
May was both delighted and amused and placated her new friend by throwing herself on the floor and rolling on her back. George, having been satisfied that he was to be in charge, wagged his tail.
After seeing that the dogs got on well and tea would be sent in, Cassandra had excused herself from the drawing room so her father and the dowager might speak privately.
The dowager waited for Jimmy to close the door behind him. She poured tea for the viscount and said, “Never in all my years did I think my own grandson would cause damage to your daughter. I am sorry for it and I am determined to rectify it.”
The viscount took his tea and said, “It was no fault of yours.”
“Perhaps not, though I wonder if I did enough to guide him, that he would have fallen into such a situation. Did you know he is in love with her?”
The viscount set his teacup down with a clatter. “What?”
“It is true,” the dowager said, “and he wishes to marry her. From what I can gather, he initially fooled himself into thinking he did his duty by marriage. That it would atone for what he’d done. But, as it happens, he’s quite smitten.”
“The marriage would restore Cassandra to her rightful place,” the viscount said slowly.
“Indeed so,” the dowager said, “though she’ll never agree to it. Not yet, at least. Did you know she shoots his head off for target practice?”
The viscount laughed despite himself. “I did not, but I cannot claim to be surprised by it.”
“She is furious, and rightly so,” the dowager said. “I do not know if there is a possibility of feelings on her side, but I do know there is no room for love when one seethes.”
“Perhaps time will cure her of it,” the viscount said. “It has cured me of considering lining them all up and challenging them to duels. That, and Cassandra pointed out she would be left quite alone after I was shot up.”
“I rather think neither duels nor time are what is required. We must give Cassandra her revenge. She must have revenge on the gentlemen of the pact, and on that awful Lady Montague. She must be the belle of London and they must become pariahs. Only then will her anger be appeased and we will see what lays beneath it.”
The viscount leaned back in his chair. “Do I dare inquire how you mean to accomplish it?”
“Leave it to me,” the dowager said. “Though it may take some time. I am likely to be under your roof for at least a fortnight.”
Chapter Fourteen
Edwin stared into the fire, then swept up his grandmother’s letter and read it again.
My dear awful grandson,
As you know, I made my way to Surrey in all haste after becoming apprised of your base actions. Approaching Trebly Hall, I was set upon by highwaymen. Fortunately, Miss Knightsbridge was nearby and able to rescue me by way of two shotguns and very good aim. I am lucky to have survived the ordeal and remain in her debt.
To do what I can to repair the situation you and your idiot friends have created, I will spread this tale far and wide and make clear to all of my acquaintance that you are to be believed when you own your crimes. I expect to hear the welcome news that you are widely denounced sometime in the coming weeks. Miss Knightsbridge, I will affirm, has been blameless in all of it and has been the hapless victim of plotters (you) and gossipers (Lady Montague).
I am of a mind to bring Miss Knightsbridge back to London and sponsor her personally. At the moment she refuses, but I think I will wear her down eventually. As for you, Miss Knightsbridge is in the habit of blowing off your head while she practices her aim at shooting. This may sound dire, but I am of the mind that one does not experience that sort of rage unless there are other feelings lurking underneath. You had better hope so, in any case. You would be very fortunate to win such a lady, though I have my doubts about whether you deserve her.
I expect your father and the other dukes have heard of this fiasco by now and so I will not be surprised to hear you are living in Cheapside sooner than expected.
Regards,
Your disappointed grandmother
Aside from the stinging retribution, which Edwin felt was well-earned, he could not but help wonder if his grandmother was right. Did Miss Knightsbridge harbor any feelings for him?
He did not know, but as the days passed he knew he would not marry another, even if he did have to spend his days in Cheapside, warming his own toast in front of a fire.
What a lady! To think, she’d fought off highwaymen to save his grandmother. It was extraordinary.
If ever there was a woman who ought to have influence and power, it was she. If ever there was a woman who could crush his future happiness, it was also she.
*
The dukes had gathered at White’s, all rushing to London when word reached them of what their sons had been about.
“Those blasted ne’er-do-wells,” the Duke of Gravesley said.
The Duke of Wentworth stared at his gouty foot, that appendage more swollen than ever. “Viscount Trebly is an honorable man, I am surprised he has not shot them all.”
“The dowager writes to me that my son is willing to marry the girl, but she won’t have him,” the Duke of Carlisle said.
“Marriage would fix the thing up,” the Duke of Dembly said hopefully.
“But she won’t have him,” Carlisle answered.
“We owe the viscount a debt,” Gravesley said. “We must do what we can to appease him.”
“What can we do, if she won’t have Hampton?” Dembly said.
The dukes considered this conundrum in silence, until one of them muttered, “The scoundrels.”
“Hear, hear,” the rest answered.
They were quiet for some minutes, until Carlisle said, “The dowager had an idea, though it is rather…extreme.”
*
The dowager had settled herself into Trebly Hall as if it were her own house. She’d taken over the library and hired a secretary. Mr. Brown was a short and pudgy sort of fellow, but he could write like the wind and so was suited to the lady’s purposes.
The dowager had made it no secret that she fired off letters that were to pepper London and rain down on all of England. All were to know of Miss Knightsbridge’s innocence and the gentlemen of the pact’s guilt. Most of the
letters read the same, hence the use of a secretary to copy them all out. Some the dowager wrote herself, in particular a rather scathing missive to Lady Montague filled with veiled threats of that lady losing her place in society.
Cassandra was pleased by the letter to Lady Montague, it amused her to think of how hard the lady would cough upon reading it. It, and all the other letters, gave her a sense of vindication, though she still resisted the dowager’s ploys to get her to London. Rather, she would carry on riding and shooting in Surrey, well away from the talkers.
The dowager was an energetic sort of person and Mr. Brown found his hours filled, beginning at nine in the morning. At eleven, he was sent to the kitchens to rest his writing hand and have tea and biscuits, while Cassandra joined the Dowager in the library for the same. Her father sometimes joined them, but mostly left them to themselves.
On just such a morning, the dowager said, “I suppose you both look forward to children and are terrified of what one must go through to bring them into the world. I remember the horror I experienced the first time I was with child, contemplating a person growing in my belly. Nobody ever talks about it, but there it is.”
Cassandra smiled, having become accustomed to the dowager bringing up subjects that nobody else in England would dare allude to. “Whatever my difficulties may turn out to be,” Cassandra said, “childbearing will not be one of them. I have decided I will never marry.”
“There now,” the dowager said, “make no such decision. If you are to be a spinster, so be it. However, I think you would find yourself unhappy with the state. Guns and horses will not be enough for a strong beating heart such as yours.”
Cassandra could not say if that were accurate or not. She had wondered how she should like the isolation of never marrying. Her father would not live forever and someday she would find herself quite alone in the house. Invitations would be few, nobody ever knew what to do with a spinster. And then, no children. She was not the least fearful of childbirth, she’d seen enough animals born in the barns and stables to be inured to the idea, and she’d often imagined being surrounded by her own. Still, after what she had been through, spinsterhood seemed the safest course.
Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection Page 108