Chasing Cassandra

Cassandra’s steps slowed as she approached the library and heard Lady Berwick’s familiar crisp tones mingling with Kathleen’s subdued ones. Oh, God … facing Lady Berwick would be the worst part of this entire debacle. The older woman would be stern and disapproving, and so very disappointed.

Cassandra’s face burned with shame as she went to the threshold and peeked around the jamb.

“… in my day, there would have been a duel,” Lady Berwick was saying. “Were I a man, I would have called him out already.”

“Please don’t say that in my husband’s hearing,” Kathleen said dryly. “He needs no encouragement. His surface is civilized, but it only goes so deep.”

Hesitantly Cassandra entered the room and curtsied. “Ma’am,” she managed to choke out. “I’m so very sorry, I—” Her throat closed, and she couldn’t speak.

Lady Berwick patted the place beside her on the settee. Obeying the summons, Cassandra went to her. She sat and forced herself to meet the older woman’s gaze, expecting reproof and condemnation. But to her surprise, the steel-gray eyes were kind.

“We’ve been dealt a wretched hand, my dear,” Lady Berwick said calmly. “You’re not to blame. Your conduct has been no worse than that of any other girl in your position. Better than most, as a matter of fact, and I include my own two daughters in that estimation.”

Cassandra could have let herself weep then, except it would have made the older woman, who prized self-control, exceedingly uncomfortable. “I brought this on myself,” she said humbly. “I shouldn’t have flouted any of your rules, for even a second.”

“Nor should Lord Lambert have abandoned all semblance of gentlemanly conduct,” Lady Berwick exclaimed with icy indignation. “His behavior has been dastardly. My friends and confidantes in society all agree. Furthermore, they know what position I expect them to take regarding Lambert.” After a brittle pause, she added, “That won’t be enough, however.”

“You mean to save my reputation?” Cassandra managed to ask.

Lady Berwick nodded. “Let us make no bones about it—you’re in trouble, my dear. Something must be done.”

“Perhaps,” Kathleen suggested cautiously, “it’s worth considering a trip abroad? We could send Cassandra to America. We have connections in New York through Lord St. Vincent’s family. I’m sure they would let her stay for as long as necessary.”

“It would cool the heat of scandal,” Lady Berwick allowed, “but Cassandra would be a nonentity upon her return. No, there’s no escape from this. She must have the protection of a husband with a respectable name.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “If St. Vincent is willing to approach his friend Lord Foxhall delicately, and prevail on his sense of chivalry … I believe there was some earlier interest in Cassandra—”

“Please, no,” Cassandra groaned, a wave of humiliation rolling over her.

“—and if Foxhall won’t have her,” Lady Berwick continued inexorably, “his younger brother might.”

“I can’t bear the idea of begging someone to marry me out of pity,” Cassandra said.

The older woman gave her an implacable look. “No matter how emphatically we proclaim your innocence and denounce Lambert as a cad, your position is precarious. According to my sources, you were seen slipping out of the ballroom with Lambert. I’m trying to save you from being ostracized from good society altogether. My girl, if you do not marry immediately, you’ll cause untold difficulty for your family and friends. Wherever you go, there will be cuts and snubs. You’ll venture out less and less, to spare yourself hurt and embarrassment, until you become a prisoner in your own home.”

Cassandra fell silent, letting the discussion continue without her. She was relieved when Helen and Winterborne arrived, both of them consoling and sympathetic, and then Devon came in with Pandora and St. Vincent. She took comfort in being surrounded by her family, who all wanted what was best for her, and would do whatever they could to help.

Unfortunately, there was little encouraging news. Devon reported that Ethan Ransom was in the process of tracking down Lord Lambert, who so far hadn’t been found.

“What will Ethan do when he finds Lord Lambert?” Cassandra asked.

“There’s not much he can do,” Devon admitted, “but at the very least, Ransom will scare the wits out of him.”

“If that’s possible,” Cassandra said, finding it difficult to envision the arrogant Lambert being frightened of anything.

Winterborne spoke up then, having had longer acquaintance with Ethan than any of them. “When Ransom was a government agent,” he said quietly, “he was the one they sent to terrify the terrorists.”

That made Cassandra feel a little better.

Devon turned his attention to Lord St. Vincent. “How did it go at the London Chronicle? Did you find out who wrote the column?”

“Not yet,” St. Vincent admitted. “I tried bribery as well as threats of legal action and bodily harm, but the chief editor kept waving ‘liberty of the press’ in front of me like a little parade flag. I’ll exert pressure in various ways until he gives in, but it will take some time.”

“As if ‘liberty of the press’ gives someone the right to commit libel,” Helen exclaimed indignantly.

“Libel is difficult to prove,” Winterborne said, holding his wife’s hand and playing lightly with her fingers. “If a published opinion isn’t based on a deliberate misstatement of fact, it’s not libelous. Whoever wrote the column was careful in the wording of it.”

“Obviously Lord Lambert wrote it,” Pandora said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Helen commented thoughtfully. “It doesn’t have the tone of a young person. The manner is scolding … lecturing … not unlike a disapproving parent.”

“Or chaperone,” Pandora added, grinning at Lady Berwick, who gave her an admonishing glance.

“But who would be motivated to single out Cassandra as a scapegoat?” Kathleen asked.

Lady Berwick shook her head. “It is unfathomable. She hasn’t a single enemy that I know of.”

The tea was brought in, along with plates of refreshments: lemon tea cakes with fluted edges, currant scones, plates of tiny sandwiches, and toasted muffins with jam. Cassandra briefly considered nibbling on a tea cake, but she was afraid she might not be able to swallow it without choking.

Midway through the tea, the butler came to the doorway and announced a visitor. “My lord … the Marquis of Ripon.”

The room fell abruptly silent.

Cassandra felt the cup and saucer rattle in her hands.

Lady Berwick instantly took them from her. “Breathe, and remain calm,” she murmured near Cassandra’s ear. “You need say nothing to him.”

Devon stood to greet the marquis, who came in with his hat and gloves to indicate he would not stay long if his presence wasn’t wanted. “Ripon,” he said darkly, “this is unexpected.”

“Forgive me, Trenear. I don’t mean to intrude. In light of recent events, however, I felt it necessary to speak to you as soon as possible.”