The Conquest of Lady Cassandra (14 page)

“It is rather soon after your wedding.”

“That is what I thought!”

“Although there is little for society to do now, so I am sure it will be welcomed.”

“That is what he said.”

“However, it is more worry than you need.”

“I thought so too.”

“On the other hand, if you put it off, you will probably get with child, and your condition will only make it more burdensome.”

“His words exactly.”

Cassandra laughed. “You did a lot of thinking, and he did all the talking. It is not like you to withhold your opinions.”

“I mostly thought after he talked. An hour or so later, my mind marshaled my arguments very neatly, only it was too late.”

“Did he become all lordly and masterful with you? Is that what put you off clear thinking?” Southwaite had a tendency to issue decrees and assume he knew best about things. Cassandra had rather hoped he would control that for at least a year or so with Emma, so that Emma was prepared to give as good as she received.

“In a manner of speaking, only it is not what you think.” Emma went very red, and she was not a woman to blush easily. “He was very solicitous about his idea. Charming. The moment he chose to broach it, however…I was at a disadvantage.”

“And not thinking clearly, I believe you said.”

“Yes.”

“Your mind was preoccupied.”

“Exactly.”

“May I assume that you were inclined to believe the world a blissful, happy place when this subject came up?”

Emma nodded

“Just how much of a disadvantage did he create first?”

“A rather large one.”

The scoundrel.

“I will be happy to help you with this, if that is why you wanted to meet. With the aid of your servants, this is not
nearly as complicated as it may appear now. You must start them cleaning immediately, however. The open windows in summer will have let in a lot of dust.”

“Thank you. I will be grateful to have your help and advice. However…that is not the reason I asked to meet today.”

Emma stopped walking. Cassandra braced herself to hear the true reason for the rendezvous. Southwaite had probably learned about Lydia being at Mrs. Burton’s, and had instructed Emma to warn Cassandra off the friendship.

“You are to be invited,” Emma said. “I wanted you to know that. Not only has he agreed to permit our friendship, he has decided to receive you in the proper fashion henceforth.”

It was a most unexpected announcement. “I am touched. And very relieved for us both, but mostly for me.”

“You will attend, then? I am overjoyed. Your aunt must come too. Darius was very specific about that.”

“I think it unlikely that my aunt will come.”

“Can you cajole her? Darius wants her company for his aunts. Please try to convince her, just this once.”

“I will try, but I doubt that I will be successful. When is the grand event to take place?”

“Five days hence. Darius’s secretary is penning the invitations right now.”

“That does not give me long to convince her.”

“It would probably be best if she came. There is a bit more that I did not tell you yet.”

Cassandra heard a dubious note in Emma’s voice. “I am not going to like this bit more, am I? Speak plainly, Emma, as you are normally proud to do.”

“I saw the guest list after Darius added to my small one. There is one name that I do not think you will care to have present.”

The memory of kisses on her neck and shoulder turned
vividly real, and of a warm voice near her ear. “You must refer to Ambury. Do not let it concern you. I am not nearly as pliable as he may think.”

“Ambury? What has he to do with anything? I am speaking of someone whom you dislike far more than him. Darius will be inviting your brother to the party.”

“Gerald?” That was bad news. “He will be even less pleased to see me there than I to see him. He rather counts on society pushing me to its margins.”

“That is why you must come. I think that Darius aims to allow you to step out of the margins, Cassandra. I believe he hopes to allow you to claim a place other than that influenced by the scandal sheets.”

Was that Southwaite’s goal? If so, it was Emma he hoped to serve with it. If Cassandra became less notorious, Emma’s friendship would be less embarrassing. And Lydia’s too.

Cassandra found it hard to believe that Southwaite was concocting a scheme to salvage her reputation, but that might be the result of whatever else he was concocting all the same.

The notion appealed more than she ever thought it would. She had known the price of standing her ground when she refused Lakewood six years ago. She had not complained as she paid it. She had grown used to being fodder for the rumor mills, and even developed pride in being her own woman, confident in knowing herself no matter what others believed. Now, however, as the possibility of salvation glowed on the horizon, she admitted she experienced fatigue from the weight of carrying that exaggerated reputation.

“I can manage Gerald, Emma. I have for years. You are not to worry about our being there together.”

“It is a relief to hear you say that, Cassandra. I have been troubled since I saw the list after breakfast.” She slid her arm through Cassandra’s and set them strolling again. “Now, before I leave, you must explain what you meant when you
said that Ambury thought you were—what was the word you used?” She glanced over slyly. “Now I remember—
pliable
.”

“I
do not remember which pawnbroker it was, dear. It was years ago.” Aunt Sophie dismissed Cassandra’s query out of hand, then eyed the cook’s doings from her seat at the worktable in the kitchen. “A bit more salt than that, senora.”

Eagle-eyed and skinny, Senora Paolini, the cook Sophie had brought back from Naples on returning from one of her tours, kept her back to her mistress. She pinched a bit more salt and threw it in the soup with a gesture that spoke her opinion of the command.

“I would appreciate it if you tried to remember anyway,” Cassandra said.

“You are very curious about those earrings now that you have sold them, despite showing no interest at all when you owned them.”

Cassandra debated explaining why she had all this interest now. Would Sophie be sympathetic or insulted? It was unlikely Sophie would miss the implications of Ambury’s suspicions.

She decided to admit to part of it. “The person who bought them at auction is curious about their history. They are clearly old. I think it is hoped they are from the crown jewels of some country you visited.” The last was not a lie as such. Not really. Well, yes really, but a fib told for the best of reasons.

“You will have to disabuse her of such speculations.” Sophie stretched to see what senora was doing at the hearth. “I would never give away the crown jewels bestowed on me by royalty.”

“Did you keep any crown jewels, or are they among what you gave to me?”

“Do not cover that rabbit yet, senora. It will steam instead
of browning properly.” Sophie turned back to Cassandra. “The best ones went back recently. You remember last spring, when I returned Alexis’s necklace to the agent he sent. There may be a piece or two more from the collections of small countries.”

Alexis had sent his man to England to auction a collection of art. Fairbourne’s had performed the service, to Emma’s triumph. The agent, Herr Werner, had been the only visitor Sophie had received all year, and Cassandra indeed had to remove an item from her own auction lots in order for Sophie to return it to him.

“About that pawnbroker…”

“Really, dear, at my age the mind starts throwing away insignificant details. Even so, I will try and remember.” She closed her eyes. “Let me see—I can summon up sensations more than names or buildings. I believe, I am almost sure, that the pawnbroker’s establishment was off the Strand a few doors. Back then, the door to the shop was blue. I see blue very clearly in my mind.” She opened her eyes and shrugged off the effort. “That is all I remember. Tell the buyer to have the jewels reset if she has some silly concern about their history.”

Sophie stood and walked over to the hearth. She peered into the soup pot, then bent to the sizzling pan of rabbit. Senora Paolini waited for the daily inspection to be done. She grasped a wooden spoon like she would not mind using it for a purpose other than stirring.

“Come, Cassandra, let us leave senora to her art. It would not do to interfere.”

Cassandra looked back as she followed her aunt up the stairs. Senora was shaking that spoon at them.

“You interfere each day, Aunt Sophie. You really should leave her alone. You are no cook yourself,” she said when they settled into the library.

“That would be unkind. She depends on my going down there. I am the only friend senora has. Now, I want to tell
you that the oddest thing happened. I received an invitation to a party from Lord and Lady Southwaite. I did not even know there was a Lady Southwaite. I wonder who brought that proud man low.”

Thank goodness Gerald was not here. “That is my friend Emma. You remember—I went to the wedding two weeks ago, and was gone for several days.”

“The one in Kent? Fairbourne’s daughter? Why did you not tell me she was marrying Southwaite? So he married a tradesman’s daughter? Well, well…I expect he got her with child and did the noble thing.”

“She is not yet with child.”

“It is a love match? How strange the world has become, when such a man marries such a woman because of love. In my day, it was handled quite differently.”

“I was invited to the party too. We can go together.”

“I think not.”

“Gerald will be there, I believe. If you came and it was obvious to all that you are fine, if you showed yourself in public and there were all those witnesses to your health, he would have a more difficult time trying to do what he threatened.”

Sophie gave that considerable thought. At least Cassandra hoped that was what suddenly preoccupied her as she sat on the divan, gazing at nothing much at all.

“What you say is true, Cassandra. This party would be an opportunity to put Gerald in his place. I could attend and be witty and sharp, and he would have to retreat entirely from his threats and stop insinuating that my mind is failing.”

“Then you will come? It will be something of a resurrection for me too, and I confess that I will feel better if you are there.”

Sophie patted the place beside her. Cassandra went over to sit by her side.

“I think you will do better alone. It is possible I would more than acquit myself well. I want to think that I would.
However, let us be honest and admit that it might turn out very differently.” She took Cassandra’s hand and held it. “Do not pretend you have not noticed. If I go, we both know that I will flirt with danger. Instead of proving your brother wrong, I may say something that gives him, and the whole world, evidence that he is correct.”

Cassandra gripped her aunt’s hand. “I have noticed a little bit. Not much.”

“It is only a little bit. Not much. But enough for his purposes.” Sophie reached over and moved a tendril of hair off Cassandra’s cheek in a motherly gesture. “A memory does it to me, or a scent, or even an object. Suddenly the past is real in ways it should not be. The memories lure me to let them have their way. I never have forgotten where I am. I have been aware of it all. It is as if the barriers break down, however, and time flows in both directions too freely.”

“Surely that is normal. If you are aware it is happening, and do not lose hold of an anchor in the present, who cares how much you float to the past?”

“For most aging people, I expect no one much cares.”

Only Aunt Sophie was not most people.

“It is my fault he is doing this.” Cassandra held on to her shaky composure by allowing her anger to spike. Her swallowed tears burned her throat. “I will not allow him to succeed.” She embraced her aunt. “You will see. I will take care of you just as you have taken care of me. You will be safe and you will be free. Whatever it takes, I will make sure of that.”

Her aunt did not resist the embrace, or make any attempt to respond. Instead, her head tipped just enough to rest on Cassandra’s shoulder, and her hand never left Cassandra’s own.

C
assandra picked through the jewelry Aunt Sophie had given her, seeking a discreet but attractive necklace that did not have any little notes warning that it not be flaunted in London. She decided that a simple gold chain sporting a cluster of small dangling pearls would do, especially since it was only off limits in Saint Petersburg.

Her maid fastened it so the pearls dotted the flesh exposed by the neckline of her blue dress. A blue, gold, and red patterned turban, tied in the broad, artistic style favored on the Continent, gave her ensemble a dramatic flair. She eyed herself in the looking glass and hoped her appearance reflected her determination to cooperate tonight, but only up to a point.

Merriweather showed in the mirror suddenly, her cap a garish white blotch above the turban’s exotic depths. “A caller, m’lady.”

Cassandra took the card and the accompanying note. “Allow me to escort you and your aunt, so the two of you do not enter the lion’s den alone and unprotected. Ambury.”

Had he turned his carriage here on a whim, while on the way to the party? It was irregular to arrive and offer such service at the last minute.

Of course, she was irregular too, so perhaps he thought he did not need to stand on ceremony. Or maybe those kisses had led him to assume their brief intimacies had breached any need for formality.

She had worked hard to avoid thinking about his mouth on her skin and his hands on her body. The memory did silly things to her. The way it could renew the chills and flutters she had experienced at that window was the least of it. When Ambury kissed a woman, it became very easy for her to forget how unwise it would be to allow him such liberties in the future.

He made it ridiculously tempting to pretend he pursued a serious flirtation, and that no old histories darkened his motivations or colored his views of her. He was well practiced in using pleasure and flattery to conquer feminine caution.