by Julia Donner
“You were so young, Cassy. You didn’t know what was happening. What he meant to do.”
“I can’t possibly accept Ravenswold’s offer without telling the truth.”
Cassandra accepted a silk and lace fan from Tessa, wishing for a way out of telling Rave about Billy Hempstead and Arthur. And the man she shot in the alley. She never learned his name and Asterly refused to talk about it.
Tessa brushed a spot of talc from the gold material. She straightened up and looked Cassandra in the eye. “I say you should trust him.”
Cassandra swallowed and looked hard at her closest friend. “I’ve led him to believe that I’m untouched. I don’t know where to find the courage to admit to misleading him.”
“Nonsense, Cassy. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I only wish that as a child I had half the grit I have now. I never would’ve let Billy drag me into the bushes with his promise to show me something extraordinary. If he wasn’t already dead, I would happily geld the cretin for putting me in this spot.”
Picking up a discarded stocking, Tessa quipped, “And I’d hold the blackguard down for you. To be honest, I’d be scared to tell his lordship, too. By the way, was whatever Billy had to show you extraordinary?”
“Don’t recall. ‘Twas over in an instant, before I really knew what happened.”
“I hope he’s scorching in hell. And now that I’ve said such a nasty thing, I’m off to my room to pray for forgiveness and your deliverance.”
“Thank you, Tessa. I shall need it.”
Cassandra inhaled a deep breath and almost popped out of the bodice. She reminded herself not to do that again. She nodded to Tessa to open the door and swept out onto the field of battle. It would only be an intimate dinner, possibly twenty or thirty houseguests, with the rest arriving later for the ball and supper.
As she descended the stairs, she molded her face into an expression of fashionable indifference. What an idiot that Fetherton chit is, leaving me the field at dinner. Tessa said that there were no place cards laid out for any of the Fethertons. The mother must be a complete fool. Aunt Jane would have gotten an invitation to dinner—at pistol point if necessary. The image of Lady Duncan pressing a pistol into Ravenswold’s belly had her suppressing a nervous chuckle as she descended the remaining steps.
Time to close the betting books and for the duelists to take their places. Let the game begin.
Chapter 22
When the ball began to wind down after supper, Cassandra allowed herself to be discreetly ushered to an alcove outside the card room where she and Asterly could chat in some privacy and yet remain in full view of the assembly.
After Cassandra had been seated on the padded bench, she turned to the gentleman by her side and smiled a smile of genuine warmth and welcome.
“It’s good to see you again, my friend. Although, I shouldn’t bother to speak to you at all. You haven’t written since the letter about Arthur’s passing. Have I been discovered? Is that why you take the risk of us being seen together like this?”
He pretended to study her dance card and offer his opinion of the names written there. “Can’t talk here. Too many eyes and ears. In my recent billet-doux, there were some rather messy instructions for a rendezvous that I must now humbly beg to revise.”
Asterly waited for a pair of ladies to stroll by and used the interval to write his name on her dance card. “To meet in the park is too demmed close for any degree of comfort. Rave dotes on early morning rides. We can’t take the chance of discovery. Why are you blushing?”
Cassandra used her fan to hide her glowing cheeks and blocked the embarrassing imagery of Rave watching her frolic in the pond wearing only a saturated shift.
“Don’t act the clod. Do you really think I would speak of the cause when I’m coloring up merely thinking about it?”
“Wishful thinking on my part. Although your blush is becoming, I must ask you to cease. Everyone will be suspicious of what I’m saying."
She dipped into the treacle to reply, “You are such a swine. It’s a wonder you haven’t been shot dead for habitual insolence. Where do we meet?”
“Beyond the aforementioned pond, directly to the east, is a stream fed by the pond. You’re coloring up again. What did I say? Oh, never mind. Follow the stream to an ancient oak, under which you will wait for me. Agreeable and understandable?”
She nodded and paused to smile at a passing couple, then whispered, “But what do I do for a mount, or did you expect me to trudge this distance on foot?”
“My henchman will have a horse waiting. Be at the stable entrance an hour before sunrise.”
“But the ball could last until dawn!”
He patted away a pretend yawn with the back of his gloved fingers. “Not at Ravencourt.”
“Very well, but I must disagree with your previous observation.”
Genuinely surprised, he broke off his act of intolerable ennui to ask, “Which one?”
“I think it would look more natural if you flirted with me.”
“Rubbish! Although I must say that you do look devilish fine this evening. By the by, old girl, I nearly expired when you called him Ferdie at dinner What twaddle, Cassy. However did you dredge up such nerve?”
“You should talk! You and your false colors and spying tricks. And his mother called him Ferdinand.”
“And you know perfectly well how much he loathes the name. Can’t bear for anyone to use it on him. Knocks down fellows left and right if they dare let it slip.”
“I’ve never heard of an heir with such an outlandish name.”
“He’s a younger son. His older brothers, John and James, preceded him in death, John from cholera and James in the war with the Colonies. One could call that man any foul name in any language—and be careful, he speaks four fluently—without starting up that temper of his. But to call him the dreaded Ferdinand with such lack of care for one’s life? Ferdie! Good lord, I never!”
“Whatever else should I call him?”
“You had best think up something else, my girl. He’s going to ask for you, you know.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m afraid he is.”
“Blue-deviled over becoming a countess? Well, you ingrate! Oh dear, from the look on your face it’s quite obvious that you are hatching something dreadful. I can actually see your conniving little brain at work, conjuring up something altogether ghastly. Poor Rave has my sympathies.”
“It’s not all that dreadful. Actually, it has nothing to do with him. You see, I had thought that you might ask for me one day, if only in funning.”
Asterly borrowed Cassandra’s fan to hide his appalled expression. “Me?”
She snatched back her fan and snapped it closed. “I don’t see why you should act so surprised.”
“Good God, Cassandra, you are far and away too much for me to handle, and there is the fact that you lacked the good sense to stop growing at the proper age. Don’t poker up on me! You know that has nothing to do with it. Stop making that face! Rave will be thinking I’m insulting you.”
“Then it’s because you think I am too impulsive.”
“Somewhat. And don’t pout! The truth is I’ve never been able to share a lady’s affections with another man.”
She preened and batted her eyes at him over the top of her reopened fan. “Arthur?”
“Stop that! Arthur was the culprit before.”
“You certainly aren’t suggesting that it’s the brooding giant?”
“Hush! Of course it’s Rave. With you falling in love with everybody else, I was never able to get my foot in the door.”
“You know that’s not true!”
He tossed her dance card onto her lap. “You’re lying to yourself.”
“Speaking of lies, my dear Mutual Friend, I’ll have to tell him about what happened in the alley.”
“Lord above, he won’t care.”
Boggled, she hissed, “Of course he’s going to care!”
When he swiftly stood and bowed to salute her hand before deserting her, she whispered, “Yellow belly.”
Rave gave Asterly a curt nod of acknowledgment and a speculative glance when they passed each other. He looked down at Cassandra, who vigorously fanned her flushed complexion.
“Miss Cassandra, if at all possible, may I have a private word with you?” When she hesitated, he added, “I’ve already sought permission from Lady Duncan.”
“Ah! Then certainly we may do so, but shouldn’t that wait until your guests leave?”
Cassandra blushed again, because he knew that she knew what the subject of the private talk was about. She had only made the suggestion to postpone the inevitable, but her question had come out sounding peevish.
Ravenswold’s expression was one of stolid implacability. “An excellent suggestion. I’ll see to getting rid of them.” Cassandra gaped, astounded, when he continued with ruthless lack of consideration for his guests, “It shouldn’t take me above an hour. Shall you wait here?”
She agreed with a nod and watched him stride away to evacuate his house of guests. Heaven above, she thought, the man had no regard for the social niceties when he had a goal in sight. His ability to set his mind and actions to a particular purpose bordered on scandalous. Again, she counted herself as dense not to have seen underneath his dull façade to the craftiness of his true nature.
Cassandra stayed on the couch outside the card room and devised a number of polite excuses for not accepting a gentleman’s proposal of marriage. She was beginning to suppose that she might accept his offer but couldn’t think of a way to phrase the fact that she’d shot a man in a dark alley one night and didn’t know if he lived or died. Mutual Friend seemed to think that taking a man’s life shouldn’t be considered an impediment, but there was also the sticky problem of her not being a virgin.
She watched the clock and tried to organize her spinning mind. She didn’t immediately realize the sneaky fellow thought to ply her with wine. A footman appeared every so often to refresh her goblet with champagne. When she did come to notice this none too subtle ploy, she smirked. Wines rarely affected her. She could drink all night without any noticeable fuzzing of her faculties. Her father had envied her hard head.
So he thinks to cozen me with drink, does he? She set the wine aside and continued to plot possibilities.
Ravenswold returned to collect her an hour and twenty minutes later. The time sped by so swiftly she wondered if he might have smuggled an opiate into the wine. Now on the lookout for his devious methods, she recalled how she’d laughed with disbelief when her aunt warned that he was up to any rig if he thought his means justified the ends.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” the twisty fellow said as they climbed the wide staircase, “I should like to show you a portion of the house you’ve never seen. Very few people are allowed into this particular wing.”
Her curiosity aroused, she walked beside him in silence. They crossed the length of the gallery, went down a long corridor, and passed through an inconspicuous door in the paneled wall.
They entered into a dimly lit hallway, and she immediately sensed a difference in the interior even though it wasn’t easily discernible. She felt smaller and somewhat disoriented until she noticed that the wainscoting had been set higher in the wall. When he ushered her into a spacious apartment, she understood why. Everything had been constructed on a larger scale—the furniture, the windows, the draperies, everything. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be of normal height.
Several doors led off from the main receiving room, a combination study, library and sitting room. Two dogs of uncertain lineage sprawled in front of the fireplace screen. They briefly raised their heads to inspect the intruders and promptly went back to sleep.
The impressive mantelpiece above the hearth was in the Elizabethan style with intricate carvings surrounding the family crest. The walls were mostly bookshelves, crammed and cluttered. Pastoral paintings hung in the spaces not taken up with books. She halted to stare up at a portrait of a young and decidedly rakish Ravenswold that looked nothing like the sedate and formal rendition in the gallery.
A huge, dark green sofa, deeply cushioned and lined with pillows had been situated near the fire, accompanied by a somewhat worn Chippendale wing chair. Behind the chair and against the wall stood a heavy refractory table stacked with papers and various books pertaining to a project underway.
Cassandra glanced around, somewhat bewildered and yet comforted by the clutter, which didn’t fit her impression of the earl. She thought he’d be the sort who would like things tidy. Once again she was forced to revise her opinion of him.
He seated her on the sofa, which turned out to be so deep and comfy that it also made her feel a bit lost and overwhelmed, similar to the way she felt around Ravenswold. A refreshment tray had been placed on a low table between the wing chair and sofa. Ravenswold added hot water to the teapot from the hod in the fireplace before he sat in the chair. After arranging a pillow at his back, he requested her to please pour.
Cassandra felt conspicuously unchaperoned. Ravenswold appeared preoccupied. He crossed a black silken-hosed leg over the other and drew off his gloves, revealing a square-cut ruby ring on his left hand. When he flopped the gloves and ring on a side table and stifled a yawn, she felt strangely relaxed. She glanced around the room with its overgrown furnishings basking in the gentle glow of wavering firelight. It was as if they had left the bother and bustle behind and entered another world.
Chapter 23
Cassandra covertly studied Ravenswold while she prepared tea. He seemed lost in thought, staring into the flames and enjoying the quiet. His clothes were stark and simply styled. He always wore a diamond and onyx signet ring but never affected fobs, seals, chains or bright colors, which struck her as wise. A man of his size was noticeable enough without loud colors and dandified clothes.
She murmured to get his attention and extended a fragile cup. He held the steaming tea in his lean hands, not drinking, distracted and seemingly unable to remove his gaze from the slowly sinking wood fire.
“Would you prefer brandy or port, sir? Do not abstain in deference to my presence.”
He set the cup on the side table and leaned over to retrieve a log from a stack on the hearth. He dropped it on the ebbing flames. “No, thank you. I had the tea brought up for you. It’s been an exhausting evening. Did you enjoy it?”
“I did. Thank you for inviting Lady Groton-Wilde. I remember her visiting my mother.”
“I recently learned that she and our mothers enjoyed a lasting friendship. I also noted that you dance and quite beautifully.”
She looked down into her cup to avoid his probing gaze. She had to take a sip of tea before she could reply. Her mouth had gone dry.
“Thank you. The ball was everything one could wish.”
“I see that I must apologize for this discreditable lack of propriety,” he said with a languid wave of his hand. “I wanted to speak to you undisturbed. As I said before, very few people are allowed in this wing. I confess to being an inveterate hermit and detest being interrupted while I work.”
“Work? Do you mean estate matters?”
He returned his gaze to the fire. “No. I write works pertaining to agricultural advancement and think of myself as something of an inventor.”
“Ah. You continue to surprise and impress me, sir.”
He glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the flames. “What I was trying to explain by demonstration is that I lead a quiet life. I ride in the morning, see to business with the steward and secretary after breakfast, and what is left of the day is taken up with the usual farming, financial and tenant problems. Mrs. Gliddens is competent and rarely bothers me with household matters.”
“Aunt Jane admires her and openly tries to seduce her away from you.
Mrs. Gliddens refuses, of course.”
“Yes, I’m accustomed to attempts to steal her from under my nose. To continue with my original subject, in spring and fall, I do my duty to parliament but escape the city as soon as I may. On rare occasions I am obliged to accept an invitation to dine with neighbors. Sir Bosley is the only neighbor with whom I can conduct an enjoyable conversation. His property marches with this estate, and it pays to treat one’s neighbors with care and attention.” He paused, then said, “Forgive me, I need a moment to collect my thoughts. What I have to say shouldn’t be said lightly.”
Cassandra’s mind went blank and then whirled with worries. She stared into the fireplace, knowing what was to come. Still unsure, she strove to think clearly, to be ready and suppressed an annoying urge to cry.
She watched him unclench and flex fisted hands. He looked at the fire and collected his thoughts. “My thanks for your patience in waiting to hear me out. You have a rare talent for listening, did you know that?”
When she shook her head, he continued. “By now you’ve noticed that I enjoy privacy. My friends despair of my sedentary habits, although I am not idle. But then, I never expect them to follow my habits or dictates when they visit. When in town, I allow for some sport. The usual boxing, racing and so on, but I do not care to gamble.” He paused to ask, “Is there something wrong with your foot?”
“Excuse me, I’ve been listening. Do not mistake my squirming for boredom. It’s only…my poor feet received a terrible squashing this evening. I completely forgot about that aspect of dancing.”
“Why not take them off?”
Cassandra blithely ignored the ingrained dictates of correct behavior and kicked them free. Wriggling her toes, she beamed gratefully at him. “You cannot know how they’ve been pleading for release, poor things! They may never recover from the bruises.”
“I’m sure I proved culprit to the worst of them.”
“Oh, no! You dance divinely, so light and swift. You and Sir Harry were quite the best on the floor this evening.”
“Sir Harry? As high as that? That’s an elevation beyond anything!” He sobered and began to twist his signet ring. “The two of you dancing was the highlight of the evening. Everyone remarked on it.” He reached for the teacup and then replaced it without tasting. His gaze stilled when he looked back. “Lord above, but you’re gorgeous tonight, Cass.”