The Conquest of Lady Cassandra (15 page)

She considered having Merriweather tell him his escort would not be needed. Only she really did not want to go alone. This night’s assembly would be harder to enter than the wedding, and that had taken a good deal of courage. Tonight there would be no way for cuts to be subtle. The truth was she dreaded the possible humiliation she might endure. She would not go at all if anyone but Emma had invited her.

Instead of sending Merriweather down with a message, she grabbed her reticule and her wrap and descended herself.

She found Ambury in the small chamber near the door that served as a reception hall. He appeared devilishly handsome in the light of the small candelabra that Merriweather had left with him. The golden glow flattered the angles of his face and the deep blue of his eyes. Surprise showed in his expression for an instant when she entered. Then his gaze took her in from head to toe, with alarming thoroughness.

“Is something amiss?” she asked, too aware of the flush rising
on her face. “Did my maid leave a hairpin dangling over my nose?”

“I am admiring how you deck yourself in garments that fit you so well.”

“That is why I hire dressmakers. So my garments will fit me.”

“I was not speaking of how they fit your body, but your style. Although—” Again his gaze traveled a leisurely path over her dress. “That other fit appears perfect too.”

The small chamber grew smaller yet. Her sensuality stirred. She could call the sensation nothing else, the arousal proved that distinct and obvious. She began reconsidering her decision to ride with him.

“My aunt will not be attending.”

“That is unfortunate. I hope she is not ill.”

“Not at all. She merely chooses not to attend. Since she will not join us, I will hire a hackney.”

“I am charmed by your attempts to hide behind propriety. One might think you had never been kissed before.”

“One might think that only if one were very stupid. I am not hiding. I am trying to spare you unnecessary gossip.”

“Gossip follows me just as it does you. We have that in common. After the first five or so scandalous rumors, one ceases to care. Don’t you agree?”

Her clever retort died on her lips. He knew, she realized. He suspected that most of the gossip was not true.

“The party is only a few streets away,” he said. “I will not be seducing you in the short time it takes to get there.” He offered his arm. “Shall we go?”

“I
think it is going well,” Emma whispered. She appeared poised as she stopped near Cassandra’s chair to share a few words, but her gaze darted around the drawing room, looking for pending disaster.

“I told you it would be less trouble than planning one of Fairbourne’s
grand previews. Fewer people. More organized movement. Not to mention you had an army of servants to help.”

“It was your help that I relied on, Cassandra. Your advice on the menu was perfect.” She placed a hand on Cassandra’s arm. “Please tell me that it has been bearable for you. I tried to convince Darius to strike your brother from the list, but he was most firm about keeping his name on it.”

“I am having a lovely evening. Do not worry about Gerald. He and I can share a meal and a few hours under the same roof. Your husband no doubt had political reasons to invite him, as he did with most of the other men here.”

Those men would arrive soon from the dining room, where they had sequestered themselves after the meal. Cassandra wondered how things would go with Gerald once the rituals of the evening relaxed.

Probably just as well as they were going with Southwaite’s aunts.

The two of them, steely haired and formidable in their height, bore down on her now. Neither had addressed Cassandra most of the night, except in the most formal way, but it appeared a decision had been made to have a conversation.

Emma did not abandon her, but stayed by the side of her chair. Hortense and Amelia lowered themselves into other chairs nearby.

“That is a stunning hat,” Cassandra said to Amelia. She was the shyer of the two, and she blushed at the compliment and fondly patted the green turban on her crown. “May I ask which milliner made it?”

They spoke of hats and fashions for a few minutes. The two aunts appeared grateful that a topic had been supplied. As conversation waned, however, Hortense began looking formidable again. Lips pursed, and with a gaze surprisingly warm, she leaned forward confidentially.

“I have missed your aunt, Cassandra. Sophie was always
so lively. Her presence refreshed any party, and I hoped to see her here tonight. How is she faring these days?”

“She is faring very well. I will be sure to tell her that you asked after her.”

“She does not receive visitors at all, it is said.”

“Very rarely.”

“Nor even take walks in the park.”

“She prefers her garden.”

Amelia frowned. “She let you sell her jewels. That is most odd. She always loved her jewels.”

“She gave them to me when she retired from society.”

Hortense looked at Amelia. They both glanced to the door.

“Your brother confided his concerns about her before you arrived. He expressed doubts she would venture out, because she is not well. We could hardly gainsay him when we have not seen her in many months. We had hoped…”

Cassandra tensed as anger flooded her. Still standing by her side, Emma gently pressed her shoulder with a calming hand.

“I have seen her,” Emma said. “When I visit Cassandra, her aunt is often there. You are quite correct. Her presence is always refreshing, and her distinctive outlook on life is clever and lively.”

Cassandra welcomed Emma’s lie from the depths of her heart. “And, of course, I see her daily,” she said with a big smile. “My brother does not. Gerald has never been comfortable with my aunt’s choices in life, so he is unlikely to understand her current ones.” She angled closer and shared a knowing look with Hortense. “You know how vain a man can be. If a woman does not flatter his sense of his own importance, she must be ill. My brother’s view is swayed by my aunt’s refusal to receive him along with everyone else, that is all.”

Hortense and Amelia smiled like conspirators. Cassandra could not tell if they were relieved or disappointed to learn that all was well with Sophie, however. Cursing Gerald in
her mind, she began plotting how to handle the gossip that might spread after this party.

As she did, the door opened and the men arrived. Gerald appeared in deep conversation with Southwaite, who listened politely. Emma left her post beside Cassandra and advanced to welcome her guests.

People moved. Conversations began. Some guests took to playing whist. Cassandra watched Gerald and wondered if she would escape a conversation with him.

Ambury made his way over and sat in a chair he moved to her side. “You appear vexed. Has someone been rude?”

Gerald was still on her mind, and in her sight, as she answered. “No one has been rude. If I appear vexed, it is because I learned something tonight that I had been ignorant of before. I am vexed with myself for being naïve, although I want to believe my trust in human nature speaks well of me.”

“What is this great discovery?”

“That the matrons of society will overlook much if I am received in a good house.”

It was another lie. She had always known it would not take much to reclaim full respectability. If she had been damned, these women would have missed Emma’s wedding rather than be seen in the same chamber with her. The cuts would not have been subtle, but direct, and Southwaite would never have permitted Emma’s friendship to continue.

No, today’s discovery was far more devastating, so much that her heart broke. She had always assumed that the gossip about her came from the idle speculation of bored minds. She had never suspected that instead it might be the result of someone’s concerted effort to humiliate her.

She looked at Gerald. He had their father’s eyes. Sophie’s eyes. Only he always looked to be peering hard at the world. That killed their warmth. It affected his whole face. Not a bad face in its features, but there was nothing friendly about it. His countenance and body had a rigidity that made him unappealing.

Had he done it? Was his current game regarding Sophie a new tack after an old one had not worked as well as he hoped? Had he ensured that her reputation for being too wild and too independent took as big a toll as possible? He had wasted no time today to gossip about Aunt Sophie. Perhaps he had been planting gossip for years.

He appeared to be a man who could do that. Even his smiles looked like they could cut stone. And his manner—she remembered a full-faced boy who got into mischief too easily. Now she observed a severe lord who would most likely whip that boy if he ran into him.

Gerald noticed her watching him. To her horror, he began walking in her direction.

“You appear faint,” Ambury said. “Perhaps you would like to go out to the terrace and get some air.”

Escape held enormous appeal. Only it was too late. In the next moment, Gerald stood in front of her, gazing down as a father might on an errant child. “You appear lovely tonight, Cassandra.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Ambury said. That forced Gerald to acknowledge that Ambury sat close enough to be included.

“The turban is a little too dramatic, however,” Gerald said. “I cannot decide if it is the style, the fabric, or the way it makes you look like an ancient sibyl from the Near East.”

“The world is never hurt by a little drama, Barrowmore. It is rude to flatter a woman in one breath and insult her in the next, even if she is a sister.”

Her heart swelled with gratitude that Ambury defended her. He appeared amiable and casual, but his attention possessed a sharpness that suggested his daggers were ready, should they be needed.

Perhaps Emma had requested his aid again, in looking out for her friend. If so, Emma could never have expected the worst of the night to come from Gerald.

Gerald should have let Ambury’s rebuke pass, but, being
Gerald, he could not. “Because she is my sister, Ambury, and because all that she does, and is, reflects on me and my family, it is my duty to correct her if I see the need.”

“That has worked so well in the past, Barrowmore, that of course you would want to continue. However, a hat? You feel the need to correct her regarding that? The world is at war, the French breeched our borders, the economy is going to hell, and you concern yourself with your sister’s turban.”

Gerald flushed to his ears. “It is symbolic of much more.”

“It is? Who knew? You must tell Southwaite’s aunt that. She too wears a turban, and I doubt she guesses its meaning. When you do speak to her of it, what will you explain it symbolizes?”

Gerald’s gaze narrowed on Ambury, then shifted to her. “Is he the latest? Or has he only just joined the queue?”

She was horrified he would say such a thing in Emma’s drawing room. Their conversation had drawn attention too. Out of the corner of her eye she could see others darting glances at them.

Ambury’s smile did not waver, but only a fool would misread his temper now. “In insulting your sister further, you also impugn me now. You are being unforgivably rude to our host and hostess by abusing their hospitality with family squabbles.”

“Squabbles? Your arguments with your father were family squabbles. Rather more is at stake between Cassandra and me.”

Cassandra’s breath caught at the mention of Ambury’s father. Real danger entered his eyes on hearing it, but he acted as if Gerald only bored him. “If more is at stake, that is even better reason to avoid such conversations in public, Barrowmore.”

“See here. I hardly need lectures from
you
, of all men, on comportment.”

“Don’t you? Perhaps you should move on before you cross what line is left.”

“I gladly will take my leave of your company. However, I need to speak further with my sister. Privately.”

Ambury looked around. “I would say that privacy is nigh impossible tonight.”

“In here, yes. With you eavesdropping, yes. However—Cassandra, I will wait for you on the terrace.” With that, Gerald turned on his heel and marched away.

“Don’t go,” Ambury said. “I angered him, and he looks to be the sort to take it out on you.”

She stood. “It would be unwise to refuse to hear what he has to say, or to risk a row here that will embarrass Emma. As for enduring his anger, it will be a price worth paying for having seen you slice his pomposity to shreds.”

G
erald waited in a corner of the terrace, arms clasped behind him and posture straight as an iron rod. Shadows obscured the details, but she knew his stance boded ill. Indignation poured off him. Cassandra wondered if the few other guests who had come outside noticed how his mood ruined a beautiful night.

“Here I am, Gerald.”

“Yes, indeed. Here you are. For now, while the blush of passion is still fresh with our host. Soon Southwaite will come to his senses about his marriage and not allow his common bride to lead him by the nose into such indiscretions as allowing your friendship and permitting your attendance at dinners where ministers eat.”

“I told Emma that you would be confounded by it all. That you would never understand. She was going to cross you off the list to avoid any spectacles, but I convinced her to let you come too.” A third lie for the night, but oh, she enjoyed this one.

He found the notion that he, not she, might have been excluded so shocking that he startled. He hid his reaction by crossing his arms and peering through the night in
what she assumed would be a very severe stare if she could see it.

“I am told Aunt Sophie was invited as well. I had hoped to see her.”

“She decided not to attend.”

“Did she fear her condition would become too apparent if she had to spend hours in the company of others?”

She hated him for putting it into words. “She has no fear of company. She merely does not care for the superficialities of society any longer. People like you have made parties too boring for a bright spirit such as she.”

“See here—”

“I will leave at once if you get puffed up and tedious. You demanded to speak to me, so speak. You did not need privacy to inquire after our aunt’s whereabouts tonight.”