Her parents having been invited to dine with the Marquis and Marchioness of Amberley, Cassie attended Lady Linton’s assembly with Jack and Althea Ingram. Since Mr Audley was unlikely to be present, she didn’t expect to enjoy it very much … but nothing could have prepared her for what the evening had in store.
The assembly was the same as any other party hosted by Viscountess Linton – which was to say, less formal than most other functions and, like its hostess, vaguely haphazard. Cassie danced with some of her usual partners and chatted with various acquaintances. Several of the latter asked if she’d heard that the child the foreign female had tried to lay at Mr Audley’s door was absolutely not his. Cassie expressed suitable shock, agreed that the whole episode had been quite dreadful and went on her way inwardly smiling. She was disappointed not to find Nell and Harry in attendance and surprised that Philip and Isabel were not there either – Lady Linton being Isabel’s mother. Sighing, she wondered how soon Althea would be ready to leave.
She was about to adjourn to the ladies’ retiring room when a footman appeared at her elbow and said, ‘Beg pardon, Miss – but a note’s just been left for you. Fellow as brought it said it was urgent.’
Startled, Cassie took the paper he was holding out as if he thought he might catch something. The reason for this, she realised, was that the note was scrawled on the back of a School for Scandal playbill. Frowning and finding an empty chair, she sat down to read it. Half a minute later, she was on her feet again, her brain in a whirl.
I’m in trouble, Cassie. I wanted to see the play but someone’s picked my pocket and I haven’t the money to get home. Please help me – and please, please don’t tell Mama! I’m in Covent Garden by the theatre. Come quickly. I’m scared.
Olivia
Several thoughts jostled for position inside Cassie’s head. First came the realisation that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her sister’s handwriting so had no way of knowing if this was it. Then she wondered if Livy really was stupid enough to sneak out of the house alone to watch a play from the public pit and expect to get away with it. Finally, with a groan, Cassie realised that of course she could. There were times when Olivia didn’t have the sense of a flea. If she had, she’d have summoned a hackney to take her back to Conduit Street where Bradshaw, the butler, would pay the driver. It was what Cassie was going to have to do since she had no money either. Consequently, there was no possibility that this could be kept from Mama and Papa. The best that could be hoped for was that no one else found out about it. But right now, if Livy was alone at night in Covent Garden of all places, something had to be done quickly.
Slipping from the ballroom, Cassie sent one footman to find her cloak and another to inform Mistress Ingram that she’d been unexpectedly called away and would explain everything tomorrow. She hoped that by tomorrow she’d have come up with a convincing lie. She also wished there was someone she could ask to accompany her. Travelling alone at night in a hired vehicle wasn’t something she had ever done before and it suddenly felt a little frightening. If Sebastian had been there, or even Nicholas … but neither were. In fact, the only gentleman present who she’d trust to keep Olivia’s indiscretion to himself was Jack Ingram; but Jack wouldn’t leave Althea alone at a ball – which meant she’d have to come with them and thus making the whole mess even more complicated than it already was.
It was whilst tying the strings of her cloak and noting with some relief that a hackney coach stood idle across the street that a measure of logic replaced her initial panic.
What am I doing? she thought. I can’t manage this on my own and I’d be stupid to try. If something goes wrong, I’ll be in as much trouble as Livy – more, probably. And since Papa is going to know about it anyway, what is the point of racing off to Covent Garden alone? I must have been as mad as Olivia to even think of it.
Reaching the coach and suddenly knowing exactly what she should do, she said crisply, ‘Amberley House in Hanover Square, if you please. And quickly.’
Mr Audley and Lord Sarre returned to Cork Street from Sinclairs at a little after eleven. Agreeing that the evening was still young, they settled down with a glass of port and – since his lordship was averse to playing cards and flatly refused to make an idiot of himself over the chessboard – contented themselves with conversation.
‘Is Mr Maitland still at Sarre Park?’ asked Sebastian.
‘No. He went back to Halifax a week ago. Meanwhile, the renovation of the north wing has taken place at unprecedented speed thanks to a regiment of workmen. God alone knows what it has cost. But we now have a new roof, new floorboards and no rot of any kind anywhere. Caroline is delighted and currently knee-deep in redecoration. She’s even started talking of a small house-party in August if the house is ready by then. Just friends – of which she’s hoping you will --’
The remainder of his sentence was cut off by a furious pealing of the doorbell. Having given his few servants leave to retire, Sebastian strode into the hall, opened the door and was promptly pushed aside by Sir Charles Delahaye who stormed past him, snapping, ‘Where is she?’
Sebastian was suddenly very cold. He said, ‘Not here. Why --?’
‘Not?’
‘No. What --?’
‘Oh God.’ A white shade bracketed Charles’s mouth and he looked as if he’d aged ten years in a single moment. ‘It was my only hope.’
Sebastian’s hands were shaking and a rock had wedged itself in his throat, making speech impossible. Adrian gripped his shoulder briefly and said, ‘Sir Charles … sit down and tell us what has happened. It’s Cassie, I take it?’
‘Of course it’s Cassie!’ Charles allowed himself to be led into the parlour but remained on his feet. ‘If she’s not here, I don’t know where to look. She was at the Linton assembly, then she left in a hackney. She told the driver to take her to Amberley House but she never got there.’ He tugged at his already loosened cravat and added, ‘It’s been almost two hours, for God’s sake! She could be anywhere by now.’
Sebastian finally managed to lock away the fear that had been paralysing every part of him. ‘Have you questioned Lord Linton’s servants?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Then you must have some idea of what would make Cassandra leave a ball, alone and in a hired carriage.’
‘There was a note. Something scribbled on the back of a theatre playbill, apparently. The footman who gave it to Cassie didn’t read it because he couldn’t. But whatever it said caused her to ask for her cloak and send Althea Ingram word that she’d had to leave.’
‘Without saying why?’
‘Yes. But if she was going to Amberley House, it was to find me. Serena and I were dining there.’
‘So the note said something she felt should be kept in the family.’
‘I – yes. I suppose that must be true. But she didn’t get to Amberley House and she isn’t at home either. I thought – I prayed that she’d changed her mind and come to you instead.’
‘Two hours ago, I wasn’t here. Cassandra wouldn’t have known that – or where she might find me.’ The suspicion he was too frightened to contemplate swelled like a rising tide inside his head and set up a chant of, No, no, no. This can’t be happening – except that he knew it could and that what he needed now was clear thought and immediate action. Wheeling back towards the hall, he mumbled, ‘Excuse me. I need boots.’
Watching him take the stairs two at a time, Charles shouted, ‘Wait! If you know something --’
‘I don’t,’ called Sebastian from half-way up. ‘I can only guess.’
Sir Charles was left staring helplessly at Lord Sarre. ‘What does he mean?’
‘I imagine,’ replied Adrian, his tone very grim, ‘he thinks that, like the baby at Drury Lane, this may be the work of Miranda Silvarez.’
‘But – but why? How can that woman even know Cassie?’
‘I’ve no idea and doubt if Sebastian has either. But he has to start somewhere. And given recent events, if you were him, what would you think?’
Sebastian came back, having changed his footwear. Crossing to the bureau, he took the jewelled Russian knife he’d worn to Bedford House from a drawer and slipped it into his right boot.
‘That is a bad idea,’ said Adrian flatly. ‘Put it away.’
‘It’s a precaution. Would you prefer I took a loaded pistol?’
‘I’d prefer you didn’t go armed at all. And it’s nearly midnight. If you’re thinking of descending on your former mistress, her servants aren’t going to let you in.’
‘I don’t plan on giving them a choice and will wake the whole damned street if I have to,’ came the clipped reply. ‘Go home, Charles. Her ladyship must be distraught. You should also send word to Bow Street in the hope they can find the driver of that hackney. One of the street urchins they pay for information might have seen something. And if they want to prevent a potential murder, they might also like to send an officer to number eleven, Half Moon Street.’ He glanced around, his expression iron-hard. ‘I don’t know why or how Miranda would take Cassandra but I can’t think of anyone else who’d do it either. If I learn anything, I’ll send word.’
He turned on his heel and swung away to the door. With a brief muffled curse, Adrian strode after him, saying, ‘Don’t be an ass, Sebastian. How the hell do you think you’ll manage this on your own? I’m coming with you.’
En route for Half Moon Street, Adrian said, ‘Would she know you want to marry Cassie?’
‘No. Aside from yourself and Cassandra’s parents, no one does. But Miranda’s devious, vindictive and capable of anything. She’s also apparently obsessed – not just with making my life a misery but with bringing me down to her own level. She learned Cassandra’s name a couple of weeks ago at Vauxhall. If she’s been having me followed – which isn’t impossible – she may know we went riding together. I don’t know, Adrian. I don’t bloody know! But I’ve got to do something and this is all I can think of.’
Like its neighbours, the house in Half Moon Street was in darkness. With unrestrained violence, Sebastian plied the knocker and then hammered the door with his fist until it shuddered. Eventually, a light showed. Sebastian continued his assault and shouted, ‘Open up! Now, curse you – before I summon the Watch!’
Lights were also appearing at the houses on either side. A window was thrown open, through which a night-capped head emerged, demanding to know what the devil was going on. Ignoring it, Sebastian shouted again and kicked the door. And finally there were sounds of bolts being withdrawn and the door opened a crack.
‘Sir, I must protest --’ began a querulous voice.
Sebastian shouldered the door wide and stepped inside. ‘Where’s your mistress?’
‘N-Not at home, sir.’ Clad in his nightshirt, the butler who had admitted Sebastian on his one and only previous visit shivered and wrung his hands.
‘No?’ Sebastian surged past him and headed for the stairs. ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you. Which is her room?’
‘No – really, sir. She isn’t here. And I can’t permit you to --’
‘I didn’t ask for permission. Adrian – check downstairs. I’ll take the bedchambers.’
‘You bloody well won’t.’ A muscular fellow roughly the size of a barn door walked out to plant himself at the foot of the staircase. ‘You’ll turn around and sod off, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘Likewise, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my way,’ snapped Sebastian, not pausing in his advance.
‘Madam’s not ’ere and you ain’t going rampaging about through ’er ’ouse.’
‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, ‘I am.’
And without further hesitation, he drove his elbow under the man’s jaw. The bruiser staggered but regained his balance and charged at Sebastian, roaring. Sebastian spun sideways delivered one hard kick to the kneecap, a second to a place even more painful and was off up the stairs before his adversary hit the marble floor, clutching his groin.
‘If he gets up, keep him busy,’ he shouted, before disappearing round the turn of the stairs.
Lord Sarre grunted something incomprehensible and prepared to do his best.
It did not take Sebastian long to find Miranda’s bedchamber. It was in darkness, the fire almost burned out and the bed empty. He lit a couple of candles and started a rapid search, hoping to find a letter or note – anything that might give him some clue about Miranda’s current activities. There was nothing. Sebastian swore viciously and flew back downstairs.
He found Adrian on the floor, holding the hulk by the ears while the rotund, night-shirted butler sat on his chest. At some other time, it might have been funny. Right now, the black hole in Sebastian’s chest was swallowing up every thought save one.
‘I had to hit him again but he’ll be coming round soon enough,’ said Adrian. ‘Meanwhile, we’ve established that Andrews here knows nothing at all but that the girl hiding over there in the stair-well might.’
Sebastian peered into the shadows. ‘And you are?’
‘Polly.’ A scowling, angular young woman advanced into the light. ‘In another house, I’d be a ladies’ maid. In this one, I’m a bloody dogsbody. As for Madam with her nasty temper – she never says where she’s going or when she’ll be back. Like as not, she’s spending the night in some fellow’s bed but I couldn’t tell you whose.’
‘Have there been any visitors today?’
Polly shook her head. ‘The only visitor she ever has is that Mr Penhaligon and he hasn’t been near for days.’ She pointed at the recumbent figure on the floor which was now just starting to stir. ‘Randall’s the one to ask about what Madam might be getting up to. He comes and goes at all hours and never lifts a finger in the house – so I reckon she’s paying him to do some dirty work for her. Common as muck and poisonous as a snake, she is.’
‘You have that right.’
A jerk of Sebastian’s head told Adrian and the butler to move aside; and when they did so, he put one foot in a strategic location with just enough pressure to cause discomfort. Randall’s eyes flew open in time to see a long, wicked-looking blade being slid from one highly-polished boot. He said hurriedly, ‘Now look, mister – there ain’t no need for that.’
‘Whether there is or not will depend on how fast you answer my questions. A lady was abducted tonight. A lady – do you understand? If you had anything to do with that and harm comes to her, I’ll see you hanged. So tell me what you know and make it quick.’
‘I don’t know nothing about no abduction, mister. Honest, I don’t. I bin following you a bit like Madam asked – don’t mind admitting that. But --’
‘And seen me doing what?’
‘Coming and going from your ken in Cork Street and that fancy gaming club off St. James’.’
‘What else?’ Seeing in Randall’s face that there was something else but that he was reluctant to reveal it, Sebastian leaned a little more heavily on the man’s marital equipment and simultaneously brought the knife-point to within an inch of his throat. ‘What else?’
‘Couple of times I seen you riding in the park with a young gentry-mort. And – and after that, Madam set me to watching her instead. Then tonight I took a note to a ken in Clarges Street. There was an old rattler waiting and Madam said I was to stay till I seen the gentry-mort get in, then come away. So I did.’ He hesitated again until the knife pricked his skin. ‘The rattler was on the dark side of the street so I could be mistook but I thought – I thought the jarvey might have been Long Jake as sometimes drives Mrs Grendel. And that’s everything – so move your boot, will you?’
‘Presently. Who is Mrs Grendel?
‘Abbess of the nunnery on Mercer Street, near the Garden.’
Bile rose in Sebastian’s throat and for a moment he thought he might actually throw up. Taking an iron grip on every nerve and sinew, he withdrew both the blade and his foot and in a voice like cracking ice, said, ‘Finally. Let’s go.’
Having seen the moment of weakness but knowing better than to remark on it, Adrian suggested that it might perhaps be sensible to wait for the Runners.
‘While Cassandra may be in a bloody brothel? No.’
His lordship sighed. ‘You just want to break heads personally.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Striding towards the door, Sebastian said, ‘Andrews – if and when the Runners turn up, insist one of them waits here. It’s clear that Lady Silvarez is involved in tonight’s abduction – probably solely responsible for it – and if his lordship and I don’t catch up with her, she’s got to come home some time.’
And then he was gone, Lord Sarre hard on his heels.
An hour or so earlier, Cassie had awoken feeling sick and groggy, in a room she didn’t recognise and with no recollection of how she’d got there. Eventually, as her mind became clearer, she remembered the note from Olivia and an ancient hackney carriage … and finally, the large rough hand that had pressed a damp, pungent cloth over her nose and mouth. Her breathing began to accelerate as she absorbed three crucial facts. This wasn’t Amberley House; there was no sign of Olivia; and she herself had walked straight into somebody’s trap. As to who that somebody was … well, there was really only one possible answer.
She swung her feet to the floor and had to grab the bedpost for balance as a wave of dizziness washed over her; then she ploughed an erratic course to the door. It was locked. Something at the back of her brain had told her it would be but still she couldn’t help tugging at it. Panic crept several steps closer, urging her to beat her hands against the panels and shout for help; she took a moment to push it back, leaning her brow against the wood. Panic wasn’t going to help and it would be stupid to summon someone from the other side of that door when she had no idea who that someone might be. Better to let them believe she was still unconscious and give herself time to think.
From somewhere below, she could hear raucous male voices and screeches of female laughter. What on earth was this place?
Turning, she examined the room. There was a lot of balding red velvet and far too many mirrors. Her reflection looked back at her from all directions; small, pale and very frightened. Aside from the fact that they existed, Cassie knew nothing about bawdy-houses but instinct told her that she was in one now.
On the opposite wall, curtains were closed over a small window. She lurched towards it, knowing it was probably useless to hope but unable not to. Dragging the curtains back, she looked out into blackness from what seemed to be the third floor. The window itself proved to be jammed shut but she fought with it for a time anyway before coming to the conclusion that, if there was help to be had from outside, she’d wouldn’t get it without first smashing the glass … and letting her captors know that she was awake.
Defeated, she sat down on the edge of the bed and forced her brain to work logically. The note had not been from Olivia. Her sister had never been in any trouble and was, presumably, safe in bed at home. And the hired carriage she’d stepped into had been waiting for her. No matter what destination she’d given the driver she would still have ended up here – wherever here was.
All right, she thought, forcing herself to breathe evenly. No one knows where I am except the woman who arranged for me to be abducted. That’s not good. I don’t know how long I’ve been here so I’ve no idea how soon I’ll be missed. If I’m lucky, Althea and Jack became concerned when I just vanished. Perhaps Papa is already looking for me. But where will he start? With the servants at Linton House? Yes. They must have heard me direct the jarvey to Hanover Square – only of course I never got there. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut. Crying wasn’t going to help. Please, please God – let Papa have gone to Sebastian. He’ll know where to find the Silvarez woman and she’s the best chance they’ve got of rescuing me before things get any worse. Something half-way between a laugh and a sob shook her. Can things get any worse? Locked up somewhere I don’t know and probably at the mercy of the Evil Witch who I’m beginning to think is actually quite mad? But I can’t just sit here like a lamb awaiting slaughter. Papa told Sebastian I was a Valkyrie so I ought to try thinking like one.
It had taken some searching to find a book in the library that explained about Valkyries collecting fallen heroes from the battle-field and carrying them off to Valhalla – which was apparently the Viking equivalent of heaven but was less about harps and angels and more like Roman orgies. Still, Cassie had liked the sound of the fearless shield-maidens. She just didn’t feel very much like one at the moment.
Sooner or later, someone is going to come through that door. And when they do, I’ll need a weapon. She looked around without much hope until finally the chipped ewer on the wash-stand caught her eye. I suppose that will have to do. It won’t kill anybody but it might serve to discourage them. Oh Sebastian. Please come and find me. This is … well, it’s really quite frightening not knowing what will happen next.
What happened next was that she heard a key being inserted into the lock. Flying across the room, she seized the water jug to stand poised and ready. The door opened, a woman came in and, without waiting to find out who it was, Cassie smashed the ewer hard against a white-blonde head. The woman dropped to her knees, howling and Cassie wasted no time in making a dash for freedom. Unfortunately, she collided in the doorway with an extremely fat woman who simply used her bulk to push her gently back inside the room.
‘The little bitch hit me!’ Clutching her head, Miranda hauled herself up into a chair. Then, looking down at her fingers, ‘I’m bleeding!’
‘So you are.’ The newcomer shut the door and leaned against it. ‘Can’t blame the girl for that. I reckon if somebody had snatched you away, you’d have done worse.’ And to Cassie, ‘Sit down, dearie. I’m sorry about the oil of vitriol. Jake did it for the best but he knows better now. Meantime, you won’t be here long and nobody’s going to hurt you.’
Hoping beyond hope that, if she wasn’t actually an ally, the fat lady might at least be sympathetic, Cassie said unevenly, ‘If that’s so, why am I here at all?’
‘That’s for her to explain. I’ve just been paid for the room and the use of my driver.’
‘And privacy, Mrs Grendel.’ Holding a lace-edged handkerchief to her temple, Miranda suddenly seemed strangely calm. ‘I paid for privacy. So go away.’
‘I’m going. But you remember my terms. The young lady’s to be returned home, safe and sound. If you hurt her, don’t count on me keeping quiet when folks come asking. And don’t even think of letting any of my customers get a glimpse of her. There’s not one of ’em would believe she’s here willingly – and I’m not having Runners at the door on account of you.’ Mrs Grendel turned towards the door and then, looking back at Cassie, said bluntly, ‘This ain’t a place you want to be seen, Miss – so stay here till somebody comes to show you the way out.’
Watching hope disappear and hearing the key turn in the lock, Cassie sat down on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap to hide the fact that they weren’t steady. Then she looked Miranda in the eye and said, ‘I’ve no idea who you are, Madam but --’
‘Liar. We met at Vauxhall. But you knew who I was before that.’
‘I do recall you attempting to foist your acquaintance on Lady Elinor and myself at Vauxhall – but why you should think I already knew you --’
‘It was written all over your face, silly girl. And you were the woman with Sebastian Audley at Bedford House, weren’t you?’
‘Me?’ Cassie’s nerves snarled but she managed a tiny, incredulous laugh. ‘Hardly.’
‘Oh, I’ve been told no one would believe it of a milk-and-water Miss like you – that you’ve got them all nicely fooled. But I know the truth.’ Miranda’s teeth gleamed in a savage smile. ‘I know you were in the library that night at Cavendish House, as well. I heard what you said about it.’
Cassie couldn’t remember what she’d said; neither could she spare the additional concentration it would take to try. She said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about – and suspect that you don’t, either.’
‘Keep pretending if it makes you feel better. It won’t help.’ Miranda paused and then, her tone gathering a note of jeering spite, ‘Where were you hiding? Did you watch him kissing me and wish it was you? Yes. Of course you did. He makes you hot for him, doesn’t he?’
Oh God, thought Cassie despairingly. She thinks there’s something between Sebastian and me … but I can’t let her know she’s right or this will get much, much worse.
Hoping that, for once in her life, she could lie convincingly, she said, ‘This is all nonsense. Unless you have anything sensible to say, I’d like to leave.’
‘I daresay. But I’m not finished with you yet. Indeed, I’ve barely started.’
‘Then perhaps you could get on with it. So far as I can see, you’ve had me drugged and dragged here against my will purely to talk about Sebastian Audley. Why?’
‘I wanted to find out what he sees in an ordinary little thing like you.’
‘What makes you think he sees anything?’
‘I know him. I know him very, very well. And early morning meetings in the park?’ Miranda shook her head. ‘You should have been more careful.’
It gave Cassie a jolt to realise what she should have known from the start. The witch had been having Sebastian watched; and her, too it would seem – for how else could she have known Olivia even existed? It posed the question of how much more she knew.
Managing a suitably careless tone, she said, ‘Since I had a groom with me, it was scarcely clandestine. And why should I not ride out with my own cousin?’
‘What?’ Shock drew a line between Miranda’s brows. ‘He’s your cousin?’
‘Didn’t you know? Sebastian is my cousin and a close friend of my brother. Now, for heaven’s sake come to the point!’
‘Very well.’ The blue gaze passed disparagingly over Cassie from head to toe. ‘My name, in case you’ve forgotten, is Lady Silvarez. And I’m Sebastian Audley’s lover.’
Returning look for look, Cassie raised what she hoped were supercilious brows.
‘I might congratulate you except that what you mean is you were his lover.’
‘Was – and will be again. This confusion of his is only temporary. He’s mine. He’s been mine for a very long time. Sooner or later, he’ll realise it.’
The utter confidence with which she spoke sent a shiver down Cassie’s back. When she’d wondered if Miranda was mad, she hadn’t actually considered that it might be the literal truth. Now she was beginning to. She said, ‘I’d be surprised if he agreed with you. In fact, it sounds highly unlikely. Oh – don’t mistake me. I daresay you and Sebastian had an affaire. But it must have been some time ago.’
For the first time, Miranda looked less than certain. ‘He’s discussed this with you?’
‘Naturally not. Even as cousins, that would be highly improper. But we milk-and-water Misses aren’t entirely naïve, you know. We’re aware that gentlemen have these little … arrangements. But they don’t mean anything and they don’t last. Also, a gentleman doesn’t marry a woman he can have for the price of a few coins and a trinket or two.’
‘Watch your mouth.’ In two strides, Miranda was looming over her. ‘If you’re wise, you won’t make me angry. I can hurt you without leaving a mark.’
‘And I can scream the house down.’ Managing not to flinch, Cassie shrugged and tried to sound faintly bored. ‘I don’t know what you expect to gain by abducting me but do you honestly imagine you’ll get away with it? It’s a serious crime and my father will see you behind bars for it.’
‘By the time I’m done, your father will have more important things to worry about.’
Cassie didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Meaning what?’
‘You’ll find out.’ With a careless shrug, Miranda turned away to the small, heavily spotted mirror above the empty fireplace and inspected the damage to her temple. The cut was just on her hairline and seemed to have stopped bleeding so she deftly re-arranged her curls to cover it. ‘So … Sebastian is your cousin. Do you think he’ll marry you?’
‘What makes you suppose I want him to? But I certainly don’t think he’ll marry you. Even if your goose hadn’t already been cooked on that score, I imagine the nasty scene you engineered outside the Theatre Royal would have done the trick. And yes, I do know that was your doing. But what I don’t understand is why you’re so determined to chase after a man who plainly doesn’t want you. It’s rather pathetic. Don’t you have any pride?’
There was a brief unpleasant pause. Then, ‘Clever little bitch, aren’t you?’
‘Clever enough to recognise desperation when I see it.’
‘Desperation?’ Miranda whirled away from her reflection, her face contorting with fury. ‘Look at me, you stupid child! I can have any man I choose!’
‘Not quite any man, apparently.’ Cassie decided that, since the gloves were off, she might as well continue fighting back. ‘I don’t dispute that you’re beautiful – but what’s inside your head isn’t. Sebastian has presumably made it clear that he doesn’t want you and for some reason, you’re afraid he might want me instead. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Because you are jealous? And probably because you’ve decided that if you can’t have him, no one else should.’ Something changed in Miranda’s expression, causing Cassie to press home her advantage. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? After all, even you can’t be idiotic enough to imagine that putting him in the public pillory would make him like you any better. You did it to make him unacceptable to any other lady of his own class. How disappointed you must be that it didn’t work.’
The azure gaze narrowed and became suddenly extremely astute.
‘Oh dear. Now who’s pathetic?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?’
Cassie’s pulse thudded a warning to be careful.
‘Oh – for heaven’s sake! Where on earth did you get that idea?’
‘You’re not hard to read. You’ve fallen in love with the pretty face and the charm and that spectacular body – just like all the others.’
‘Just like you, you mean?’ asked Cassie sweetly. ‘But you’re letting your imagination run away with you again when what you ought to be doing is sticking to the point. Do you think I’m going to keep quiet about tonight? I’m not. Sebastian will know you did this. He will know … and between them, he and my father will make sure you face the consequences.’
An odd expression crossed Miranda’s face and then she walked to the door and knocked on it. As the key was turned from the outside, she said, ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. We’ll see. Meanwhile, you can go.’
‘At last.’ Taken aback and suddenly suspicious but wanting only to escape while she could, Cassie rose to shake out her hopelessly crumpled petticoats. Then, ‘Was there any point at all to this ridiculous game of yours?’
‘It wasn’t pointless and it wasn’t a game.’ Miranda gestured to the man standing motionless outside the door. ‘Jake will show you the way out. Goodbye.’
With a jerk of his head, the coachman invited Cassie to follow him down the stairs.
She hesitated, naturally wary of putting herself in the power of the fellow who’d brought her here in the first place. Had it not been turned midnight and pitch dark, she’d have insisted on finding another conveyance. As it was, in addition to feeling deathly tired, she suspected she wouldn’t necessarily be any safer with anyone else – let alone wandering unfamiliar streets on her own. Since there seemed no sensible alternative, she turned her back on Miranda and followed.
‘Beg pardon about the oil of vitriol, Miss,’ murmured Jake, when they emerged in the deserted alleyway. ‘Couldn’t risk you squawking while I was taking you into Ma Grendel’s. Somebody might’ve seen you.’
‘How thoughtful.’ Wrinkling her nose, Cassie stepped into the hackney. ‘Now take me to Conduit Street.’
He said nothing, merely slamming the door shut and taking his place on the box. Cassie kept her eyes open, staring through the window until she was sure the carriage was heading in the right direction. Then, finally giving way to the fear she had been fighting off for the last hour, she dropped her head into her hands and let herself shake.
When the carriage came to a halt and Jake opened the door, she was half-way through it before she recognised that this was not Conduit Street.
‘Oh – for heaven’s sake! What now?’ she demanded, looking about her and swiftly coming to the conclusion that the coach had halted somewhere in the vicinity of St James – a respectable enough area but one where many young men had lodgings ‘You were supposed to take me home. This isn’t it.’
‘Can’t take you the whole way, Miss – sorry.’ Taking a firm hold on her arm, he marched her briskly to a nearby door and pulled the bell. ‘Not leaving you alone in the street, neither. But the gentleman as lives here’ll see you safe home.’
‘Is that what she told you? ’ Cassie slammed her elbow into his stomach and felt as if she’d driven it into a brick wall. ‘It could be anyone in there. Let go of me! I’ll walk the rest of the way. Let me go!’
Jake simply pulled the bell again and light showed in the glass arch above the door.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he insisted. ‘Honest, it will.’
She made another violent attempt to wrench free but merely succeeded in tearing the sleeve of her gown. Then the door opened, a sleepily surly voice demanded to know what the hell was going on … and Cassie found herself face to face with a gentleman wrapped in a scarlet brocade chamber-robe.
It was Richard Penhaligon.