by Lucy Ashford
Tassie nodded fiercely. ‘I do! But that person—she had no right to talk to me as if I was something out of—out of the gutter!’
‘Perhaps she did not. But there are other ways to deal with such misapprehensions. One way would be for you to speak, and behave, as if you were a lady of quality.’ His glance fell caustically on the coffee stains that still adorned her drab gown. ‘I must also point out that you should attempt to eat your meals with an effort at decorum.’
‘God’s teeth, Marcus,’ she said indignantly, ‘the butler did that to me, the spilt coffee was not my dratted fault!’
He brought his fist down on the hall table with such force that the ormolu clock rattled and Tassie jumped. ‘One final thing. Your language is atrocious. You swear like some of the toughest old troopers I’ve had under my command, and I won’t have it, whatever the provocation, not in Hal and Caro’s house. Do you understand me?’
She clenched her hands, and said in a voice that trembled with passion, ‘I have promised to keep our bargain, Marcus, and I will do so. But perhaps ‘tis you who should reconsider it, for I cannot pretend to be what I am not. Though you would do well to remember that sometimes even fine ladies flaunt themselves and lie for profit!’
‘What do you mean? Who do you mean?’
‘I’m saying that at least I’m honest, in telling you I’m after your money! At least I’ve promised to earn it! Why was she here, that—that creature in pink silk and ruffles, if not to ask Caro after your godfather’s estate?’
‘I hope you’re not making all this up, Tassie.’ Marcus’s voice was dangerously quiet.
She met him with her clear, calm gaze. ‘Why should I lie? She wanted to know, from Caro, if there was still a chance of your godfather—Sir Roderick—getting back his fortune now that you are back. She’s come snuffling round like a cat after cream.’
‘Stop. I mean it, Tassie. Enough.’ Marcus was breathing hard. But she was right to warn him. Just for a moment, when he had come in and seen Philippa there, he’d hoped that what had been between them still existed, regardless of his expectations. More fool he. This outcast of the London streets had once more shown herself to be in many ways wiser than he was.
‘Very well,’ Tassie said steadily. ‘I’ll stop. But I tell you this—I’ll put up with no more insults from your fancy friends or from you. You have made a bargain, too, Marcus, with me. If you think I am not fit to play it through, then tell me, now, and I will take Edward and go from this house for good!’
There was a long, tension-filled silence, during which Tassie’s heart thumped so loud that she was sure he must hear it. She was suddenly afraid that she had really gone too far.
Then Marcus nodded, as though a moment of crisis had been reached and passed. ‘Our bargain still stands,’ he said. ‘Come and have some coffee with me.’
So she followed him back into the breakfast room, and, feeling slightly shaky, sat down again while Marcus poured them both some coffee.
‘I’m sorry, Marcus,’ she said quietly at last. ‘It was wrong and stupid of me, to act as I did. But are you really going to tell people I’m your country cousin, like Caro said to—to that woman?’
‘That’s right.’
Tassie’s eyes rounded. ‘I suppose you have to tell them something. Otherwise they might think I’m your lightskirt. Mightn’t they?’
Marcus started to laugh then. In fact, he laughed so much, he almost choked on his coffee. ‘I’ll make quite sure they don’t, believe me.’ Tassie frowned down into her cup. What stupid things she came out with. But his face changed so much, when he was amused by something, it was as if he was a different person. It was the same last night, when he’d spoken to her like—like a friend…He couldn’t be in love with that Philippa creature, he couldn’t!
‘So I’m to be your cousin,’ she went on airily. ‘What kind of cousin, Marcus?’
‘A very distant one. And definitely not a pig farmer.’
‘Very well. But really, Marcus, you must want to restore your godfather’s fortune very badly to concoct such a Shrewsbury tale! I suppose your prospects of inheriting will help you get that Philippa woman back, though why you should wish to marry someone who is such a milksop, and no doubt throws fainting fits whenever she is thwarted, is quite beyond me—’
‘Enough!’ he roared, and Tassie jumped up again, gripping the edge of the table. ‘Allow me to inform you, Tassie,’ he went on, ‘that I’m not paying you to pull apart my private life. I have plenty of acquaintances more than willing to do that for free, believe me.’ And then his stern mouth twitched with amusement. ‘Also let me tell you—since you are so concerned about embarrassing this household—that I have this morning been making arrangements for you to visit a fashionable but discreet modiste who will dress you in a more becoming manner. Caro will accompany you, and check that you have everything you need, and so will Emilia.’
Tassie said anxiously, ‘They won’t try to make me look like a painted doll, will they? I don’t want no pink silk and ruffles.’
‘Pink silk and ruffles wouldn’t suit you in the slightest, my dear. And besides, you will be leading a quiet life for the next few weeks. No adventures in public places where Sebastian Corbridge or his cronies might see you.’
So he wasn’t going to throw her out, then. But the prospect of the shopping expedition lowered her spirits, because she knew the frosty-faced Emilia didn’t like her one bit, and Caro was frighteningly virtuous. All in all, her new life seemed rather overwhelming. ‘Are—are you coming, too?’ she asked hesitantly.
He sipped his coffee as he contemplated her. ‘Hardly. Ladies’ fashion shops are not exactly my usual haunt. But I shall be back this evening to hear all about it. You won’t try to run away, will you?’
‘No,’ she declared, ‘of course not! We made a bargain, remember? But, Marcus…’
‘Yes?’
‘What exactly do I have to win off Lord Corbridge?’
‘Just a letter. But it’s a letter that signs away my godfather’s estate come September.’
A letter, that was worth so much…’What does it look like, Marcus, this letter?’
‘Look like? The usual kind of legal document. Parchment, rolled and tied with pink ribbon, a seal.’
Tassie sighed a little, then she unexpectedly let a smile dimple the corners of her mouth. ‘I warn you, Marcus. I’ll play cards for you, but I’ll run away for sure if they try to put me in pink silk and ruffles!’ Then she bowed her head to concentrate on buttering more toast.
‘Remember,’ Marcus admonished gently, ‘not to eat as though you’re actually hungry,’ and she froze, then lifted up a delicate slice of toast to her lips in the perfect, mincing manner of a lady of fashion.
Just then Marcus heard Caro out in the hall. He rose from the table and went to join her. Though Philippa had gone, he was still aware of the delicate floral scent of her perfume lingering in the air. He ran his fingers through his hair, knowing Caro was watching him anxiously, and said absently, ‘The girl, Tassie. I’ve told her to behave herself, and mind her manners while she’s out with you…’
Caro moved closer. ‘I’m sure she will! Oh, Marcus. Won’t you even talk about Philippa? If only I could in some way help. You and she were once so close.…’
He said, ‘She was asking you about my godfather’s fortune, wasn’t she? Unless Sir Roderick’s prospects are restored, I think my chances of being close to Philippa again are negligible.’
Caro’s eyes softened. ‘I’m sorry, Marcus. I hadn’t realised that money played such a large part in the match.’
‘Neither did I.’ He smiled rather bleakly.
‘Yet she invited you to her mother’s soirée…’
‘Philippa’s mother let me know in no uncertain terms, when I called the other day, that she is trying to bring Sir Robert Lawdon up to scratch. He is wealthy—you will know him—and she assured me that Philippa was not averse to the match.’ Marcus’s voice tightened. ‘So
my guess is that Lady Fawcett is encouraging all her daughter’s various admirers, including myself, to attend on her, in order to increase Philippa’s desirability in Sir Robert’s eyes. Hence the invitation.’
Caro murmured, ‘You were not always as bitter as this, my dear. I’m sorry you have been hurt.’
‘Don’t be. I should have been better prepared, that’s all.’
‘Well, I shall not go to the soiree then,’ Caro declared. ‘And neither will Hal. He finds these affairs an atrocious bore. Now, listen, Marcus, I must talk to you about Tassie. Hal tells me you want me to ensure that she is taught how to behave in polite company, and I shall do it with pleasure, because I like her extremely; she has considerable spirit. But I need reassurance. She is also very pretty, though I don’t think she realises it yet. You’re not going to lead her into any—any kind of possible harm, are you?’
‘Far from it, my dear! In fact, with your help, I can make her quite presentable, and even give her some prospects in life.’
Caro looked far from convinced. ‘But why, Marcus? Why take her up like this?’
‘Believe me, I’m not planning a life of vice for the girl. Let’s say—it’s because of a debt of honour, Caro.’
‘So long as the price is not too high. For Tassie, or for you.’ Caro gazed at him a moment longer, then went on, more lightly, ‘Well, whatever you plan for her will, I am sure, be an improvement. She does not seem to have had much of a life, the poor thing.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It seems to have been remarkably colourful to me. At least she could never complain of boredom.’
‘That’s true, I’m sure. Now, I wonder what you have in mind for her future—she is intelligent, and could, I suppose, with a little training, become a nursery governess, or a lady’s maid?’
Marcus pressed her hand. ‘Leave it with me.’
‘Of course. Well, the carriage should be here shortly, to take us to Bond Street. I’d better go and persuade her to leave the breakfast table.’
He took her hand and touched it with his lips. ‘Dear Caro. You are simply the kindest person I know.’ Caro smiled, and went into the dining room. A few moments later she emerged again with Tassie at her side. The minx threw Marcus a glance of wary defiance as she walked jauntily past him towards the stairs, humming a tune under her breath; and Marcus grinned back, prompting a flash of merriment in those spirited green eyes. Over the next few weeks Tassie would doubtless stretch his patience with her mischievous ways, but he could deal with her tricks, and put them to good use. What did worry him was that she was even prettier than he’d at first realised.
She presented an image of natural grace that no one would expect from an outcast of the streets. And in that flimsy nightgown yesterday, with her blonde hair piled up in ringlets that threatened to tumble round her shoulders any minute, and those huge green eyes flashing scorn, she’d presented a tempting morsel indeed, whether she was aware of it or not. Did she play such tricks on him deliberately, to try to snare him? He began to wonder if he had made an elementary mistake, one all army officers were warned against: No involvement with any of your troops! Especially as in this case his prime lieutenant in dealing with Corbridge was to be not a rough soldier, but a rather delectable, and surprisingly appealing, young woman of considerable spirit.
He’d not give her the chance to distract him again. He would treat her with firm, detached coolness, and make quite sure that she had no chance to try her mischief on anyone else—except his enemy, Lord Sebastian Corbridge.
Marcus’s ponderings were rudely interrupted by a loud shout from the direction of the breakfast parlour, where the butler was collecting the dishes. The shout was followed by the clatter of breaking crockery.
Marcus went quickly to investigate. ‘For God’s sake, man. What is it?’
Sansom just stood there, shaking with rage, a jumble of smashed china scattered around his feet. ‘Sir, the marmalade dish,’ he spluttered, almost incoherent. ‘Someone’s coated the sides of the dish with butter. It’s that hoyden, that street-girl—it slipped right out of my hands. She should be whipped—’
Marcus strode back into the hall. ‘Tassie!’ he roared.
Tassie had reached the top of the staircase with Caro, but she halted suddenly, gazing down at him with expressionless eyes. Caro flew down to be at Marcus’s side. ‘Marcus. What is it?’
Sansom was starting to clear up, his face still black with fury. Marcus explained quickly and angrily to Caro. ‘In truth, the girl deserves the back of my hand. I’ll make arrangements for her to leave your house immediately. I cannot subject you and Hal to this sort of behaviour any longer—’
But Caro interrupted him, her hand on his arm. ‘No, Marcus, no! Sansom was extremely rude earlier to Tassie. I thought at the time that it might have been he who deliberately caused her to spill her coffee…The poor girl was getting her own back on him in the only way she knew. Leave it with me. I will speak to Sansom. Do not be harsh with her.’
With that, Caro went quickly into the breakfast parlour. Marcus looked up again to the top of the stairs, but Tassie had fled.
Rather wisely, he decided grimly to himself. And he was pretty sure that was a brothel ditty she’d been humming just then. Caro was unfailingly kind, but how long at this rate before the minx outstayed her welcome?
Chapter Seven
During the next few days, Tassie found herself taking unexpected pleasure in her new surroundings, though she would have died rather than let Marcus know it. Caro was like the kindly older sister Tassie had never had; and Hal also proved unfailingly generous. One morning, when Marcus was out on his usual round of visiting people who might be able to help his godfather, Hal offered to take Tassie to the park in his new curricle.
Tassie hesitated, puckering up her little nose in that way that Hal found extremely endearing. ‘I do not think Marcus wants me to be seen out in society.’ No doubt her conduct during Philippa’s visit had reinforced his opinion. ‘After all, I am only supposed to be a country cousin. A very distant country cousin.’
Hal reassured her swiftly. ‘Tassie, specifically he doesn’t want his enemy—Corbridge—to see you. And there’s little danger of that—Corbridge keeps the fashionable hours, he’s never in bed before four in the morning, and never out of it until well into the afternoon. There’s no chance of bumping into him in the park, believe me.’
Tassie was torn, afraid of Marcus’s disapproval, yet yearning to be out in the fresh air, to ride behind Hal’s beautiful horses. Apart from her visits with Caro to the dressmaker’s shop, Tassie had not gone far from the house. Hal saw how her eyes gleamed with longing, and laughed. ‘Come along. Marcus made no rule against enjoying yourself! And he bought you a new riding habit, didn’t he? Now is your chance to wear it.’
So Tassie scurried upstairs to change into her new habit, one amongst several items she’d been able to purchase ready-made at the dressmaker’s because, the assistant confided, the lady who had ordered them had suddenly found herself unable to pay her bills. Gambling debts, Tassie had decided, shaking her head at such foolishness.
Now, dressed in the burgundy velvet outfit and the little feathered cap, she felt unexpectedly bashful; but as Hal helped her up beside him, she quite forgot her shyness as she gazed at the beautiful horses, and absorbed Hal’s skilled handling of them. And Hal, glancing sideways at her as the breeze ruffled her golden ringlets and brought some colour to the soft curve of her cheek, thought, Why, she’s a beauty. Quite a little beauty.
‘You like horses, don’t you?’ He smiled at her.
‘Oh yes,’ she breathed, her eyes shining. ‘I learned to ride years ago.’ With Georgie Jay’s band of travellers, on a gypsy pony, though she thought it best not to add that.
The only thing that spoiled her outing was Marcus’s anger when they got back to Portman Square. ‘I’d rather you didn’t make a public display of yourself, Tassie,’ he’d said coldly.
Hal interrupted quickly, ‘Hold ha
rd, Marcus, dear boy. It was my idea.’
Marcus said, ‘Was it?’ as if he clearly still thought it was all Tassie’s fault; and then he’d read Tassie a lecture on obedience, and how their bargain was off if she caused any more trouble.
Instead of retaliating, as she usually did, Tassie had gone very quiet, finding to her horror that she had a big lump at the back of her throat because he was scolding her so roundly and making her feel wretchedly stupid. Tearing off her feathered cap, she stormed up to her room, leaving him staring after her mid-sentence. She slammed the door shut and pulled off her riding habit, her fingers tangling hopelessly with all the buttons, while Edward squawked in sympathy. And then she caught sight of herself in the mirror in her white chemise, saw how the lace edging emphasised the swelling curve of her breasts, and she pressed her hands to her burning cheeks.
Once all this was over, she would have her fifty guineas. She would be free to follow her own fortune. Every night, she made her plans.
But in the meantime—how dare Marcus speak to her like that? How dare he?
Tassie did not go down for lunch, calling out that she had a headache when Emilia rapped on her door. She lay on her bed till the afternoon shadows lengthened, but then there was another knock at the door, and Caro came in. ‘We are going to the theatre tonight, Tassie,’ she said in her gentle voice. ‘You will come with us, won’t you, my dear?’
Tassie pulled herself up defensively. ‘Marcus will not want me there. I will spoil it for him.’
Caro said quietly, ‘It was Marcus who asked me to come up and invite you.’
Tassie registered disbelief. ‘But he doesn’t want anyone to set eyes on me at all, let alone at a public place like the theatre! And besides—you will all be ashamed of me.’
Caro said, ‘Nonsense. You will look lovely. I will help you to dress.’
And she did, helping Tassie into a new gown that had arrived only yesterday from the dressmaker’s. It was a hooped polonaise of pale blue silk, with a matching fitted jacket of darker blue trimmed with cream ribbons, and a cream bonnet with a half-veil. Tassie had never worn anything like it, and her heart thumped with apprehension as she walked carefully down the wide staircase in her full skirts and saw Marcus waiting for her there in the hall, his eyes dark and assessing.