Eleven
On awakening the next morning, Cassie was startled to discover a summons waiting for her from Lady Pembroke demanding that she call on her as soon as it was convenient. Her heart sank in dismay at the message as she conjured a dozen separate disasters that could have prompted the commanding missive.
Had the lady discovered that Cassie had recently acquired an aunt of dubious character? Or, worse, had she discovered her earlier charade as Lady Greer?
Knowing she could not ignore such a direct request, Cassie attired herself in a jonquil gown and collected Miss Stowe to make the short drive to the elegant town house.
Once there, she was promptly led to a back salon where Lady Pembroke was reading her morning correspondence.
“There you are, my dear.” The older woman smiled in satisfaction, waving her hand toward the dragon-clawed sofa.
“Good morning, Lady Pembroke.” With a sense of wariness, Cassie moved to perch on the edge of the cushion. Miss Stowe quietly settled beside her. “Did you wish to speak with me?”
“Yes, my dear, I have the most wonderful news.”
Cassie’s wariness only deepened. “Oh?”
“Lady Fenwell has invited you to her ball.”
The expectant expression on Lady Pembroke’s face warned Cassie that this was a commendable feat, but for the moment she could only heave a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been discovered. At least not yet. Now she could do no more than smile in a feeble manner.
“I see.”
Lady Pembroke blinked in obvious surprise. “Do you not realize what this means?”
“Not precisely,” Cassie confessed.
Leaning forward, Lady Pembroke regarded her with a shrewd gaze.
“It means, my dear, that you are an undeniable success.”
“Oh.” With an effort, Cassie kept her smile intact. “I am certain you must be mistaken,” she murmured, wondering what the devil was going on.
She was a country Miss without fortune or beauty. She had nothing to commend herself, unless one counted her thorough disregard for courting the favor of the ton. It was ludicrous to suggest she had somehow managed to become a success.
Sitting back, Lady Pembroke gave a firm shake of her silver head.
“I am never mistaken about anything of importance,” she assured Cassie, absently patting the string of pearls that lay against her deep plum gown. “Lady Fenwell personally requested your presence. Quite an accomplishment for a young debutante.”
“Yes, indeed,” Miss Stowe was stirred to comment, a rare event indeed. “Lady Fenwell . . . just imagine.”
Cassie had no desire to imagine, but with both ladies gazing at her, she gave a faint nod.
“Yes.”
There was a small silence as Lady Pembroke subjected her to a probing survey; then the older woman smiled in a worrisome manner.
“Not that I am surprised. You have created a stir since your arrival. Especially among the gentlemen. Every hopeful mama is absolutely green with envy over your having stolen the march on the finest catch of the Season.”
Cassie could not halt the sense of shock that jolted through her stiff frame.
“What?”
“Lord Champford, my dear,” Lady Pembroke clarified with a faint narrowing of her gaze. “Every beauty in Town has been angling for him for years, but he has refused to show a preference until now.”
Cassie felt the color rise and fade in her face.
“Whomever did you think I meant?” Lady Pembroke demanded.
Fool, she silently chided herself. “No one of importance,” she breathed.
Still regarding her closely, Lady Pembroke continued, “And, of course, Lord Westwood is determined to make a cake of himself. Not that I would expect you to settle for a mere viscount.”
“Lord Westwood has been quite kind.”
“He is a silly boy. No, what you need is a man worthy of your obvious spirit,” Lady Pembroke announced in firm tones; then that odd smile returned. “Tell me, what do you think of my nephew?”
Feeling as if the clever woman was deliberately attempting to keep her off guard, Cassie struggled to maintain a cool composure.
“He is quite . . . kind.”
Lady Pembroke gave a sudden laugh. “He is arrogant, spoiled and far too charming for his own good. Still, he would make a fine husband for a lady clever enough to capture his heart.”
Clever? Noddy was more like it, Cassie assured herself. Never had there been a more stubborn, perfectly annoying gentleman. A woman would have to be without sense to deliberately bind herself to him for a lifetime.
Still, she couldn’t deny that he did possess the devil’s own charm. Why else would she spend night after night recalling the searing pleasure of his kiss?
Lowering her all too revealing gaze, Cassie absently smoothed the muslin skirt.
“I have no interest in acquiring a husband, Lady Pembroke. I am merely in London to see the sights.”
“Rubbish. Every woman is in search of a husband. You just have yet to realize it,” Lady Pembroke announced in complacent tones, merely smiling when Cassie’s gaze abruptly rose in annoyance. “Now, tell me what you will wear to the ball.”
“I have not decided if I will attend or not,” Cassie retorted in stiff tones.
“But of course you will,” Her Ladyship crisply countered, appearing remarkably like her nephew. Cassie could only presume that sheer bloody arrogance was a prevalent trait of the Mumford clan. “It is the most sought after invitation of the Season. Really, my dear, I do not believe you fully realize just how fortunate you have been. There are any number of debutantes that would give their fortunes to be in your position.”
As if sensing Cassie’s prickly reaction to the admonishment, Miss Stowe offered her a coaxing smile.
“Sophia is quite right. It will be the crowning event of the Season.”
“I am certain that it will be delightful—”
“Delightful? Fah,” Lady Pembroke interrupted, a suspicious hint of amusement glinting in her eyes. “It will be a horrid squeeze with stale food and watered champagne. The only delight it offers is the opportunity to be seen. Still, only a fool would refuse to attend.”
“I am certain my presence would not be missed.”
“I assure you that it would. Lady Fenwell is a most conscientious hostess.” The older woman smiled in an arch fashion. “And, of course, Lord Champford would be quite distraught if you did not put in an appearance.”
Cassie heaved a rueful sigh. She was a woman who was accustomed to doing precisely as she pleased. It was decidedly difficult to encounter anyone with a will as staunch as her own.
“We shall see,” she at last conceded.
Clearly satisfied she had won the skirmish, Lady Pembroke turned the conversation to the lovely spring weather and the latest scandal surrounding the prince. Still, Cassie was relieved when the prescribed twenty minutes had elapsed and she was free to make her escape.
Promising to call later in the week, Cassie made her way out of the house and into the waiting carriage. Miss Stowe was close behind her, and soon they were comfortably settled and traveling back through the heavy traffic. They rode in silence for long moments before Miss Stowe slowly turned toward her.
“You mustn’t mind Lady Pembroke,” she offered in tentative tones. “She has always been quite outspoken.”
Cassie smiled with wry humor. Despite her annoyance at being forced to have a companion, she had slowly come to appreciate the older woman’s quiet presence and unwavering kindness.
“Yes, I can imagine,” she said in dry tones.
“But she means well.”
There was another silence; then impulsively Cassie blurted out the question that had haunted her the past several days.
“Do you regret not marrying, Miss Stowe?”
The spinster blinked in surprise but did not hesitate in her reply.
“Very much, but in my situation it was not my own but my brother’s decision that I not wed.”
“What?”
Miss Stowe smiled at Cassie’s startled tone. “The few offers I received were not deemed worthy of my position. My brother was quite adamant in his belief that it was more respectable not to wed than to risk the family name with a questionable connection.”
Cassie’s already low opinion of Mr. Stowe sank another notch. Really, he was a bully of the worse sort.
“Were you ever in love?”
“Oh, yes.” The thin features suddenly softened as Miss Stowe remembered back to the pleasant follies of youth. “I fell in love my first Season with a dashing young gentleman in a uniform.”
Curious, Cassie tilted her head to one side. “What was he like?”
“Kind, patient and very, very honorable.”
Easily able to imagine a handsome young soldier escorting the once pretty Miss Stowe, Cassie smiled.
“He sounds quite wonderful.”
Surprisingly, Miss Stowe merely grimaced. “Yes, I suppose.”
“What is it?”
The older woman gave a self-conscious laugh. “I suppose it is shocking, but in truth, I should have wished that he be less honorable.”
Cassie arched her brows in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Miss Stowe ducked her head as if embarrassed to have revealed such an unworthy thought. But beneath Cassie’s probing gaze she at last continued.
“When my brother refused to consent to my marriage, I wished to elope,” she confessed in low tones. “It did not matter to me that I would be cut off from my family, or even that we would have to survive on his small salary. I only wanted to be his wife.”
“But he refused?”
“Yes. He said that it would not be honorable, and that as a gentleman he could not subject me to such a scandal. So he left London, and I never saw him again. ”
Cassie opened her mouth to insist that the young gentleman had been perfectly right to prevent a scandal. After all, it would have been quite difficult to be cut off from one’s family and even Society. He had only been thinking of her. Then she abruptly caught her breath.
No.
There were times when honor was not enough. Hadn’t Cassie’s own parents chosen love over honor and duty? And hadn’t her own determination to save her estate allowed her to behave in a less than commendable manner? Surely, if he had truly cared, this gentleman would have realized that he was condemning Miss Stowe to a life of misery with her brother. A life without love.
What honor was in that?
Without warning, the exquisitely handsome countenance of Lord Mumford rose to her mind. He would not stand aside if he were in love. He would sweep a woman into his arms and never allow her a moment of regret.
Cassie hastily scrubbed the treacherous image from her mind.
“I am so sorry,” she murmured softly.
Miss Stowe slowly lifted her head and offered a sad smile.
“Thank you, but it was all a very long time ago.”
“Yes, I suppose . . .”
Cassie’s doubtful words trailed to a halt as the carriage turned a particularly sharp corner and without warning the small door was jerked open. Miss Stowe screamed as a man leapt into the interior, his face hidden by a thick scarf. Cassie opened her mouth to protest when the man suddenly lifted his hand to reveal a pistol.
Feeling as if she were in some horrible nightmare, Cassie could only watch in horror as the sun glinted off the evil gun pointed directly at her heart. With no space to move and little hope of shoving aside the intruder, there was nothing she could do but wait for the inevitable end.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Cassie listened as Miss Stowe’s scream was punctuated by a resounding bang. Then a fierce, scalding pain scraped across her shoulder. She knew she should open her eyes, to fight the mad intruder. But the combination of shock and pain proved too much.
Inwardly she cursed the realization that Lady Stanholte would win after all, as a blanket of darkness clouded her mind in blissful unconsciousness.
* * *
It was several hours later when a sharp disturbance intruded into her peace.
“Please, my lord, the doctor has left a strict command that Miss Stanholte is not to be disturbed,” an upstairs maid was desperately saying. “If you would come back in the morning—”
“I have no intention of disturbing Miss Stanholte, but neither do I intend to leave this establishment until I have assured myself that she is still alive. Trust me, it will be easier all around if you simply step aside and allow me to have my way.”
Lying on the bed, swimming somewhere between consciousness and engulfing darkness, Cassie listened to the distant exchange with weary humor. If she possessed the strength, she would have warned the unwary maid that arguing with Lord Mumford was a waste of breath. But at the moment, it took all her energy to fight back the burning pain in her shoulder. The maid would simply have to fend for herself.
“The doctor told me the mistress was not to be wakened until the morning.”
“I am certain the doctor is a fine gentleman, but I have a vast amount of experience in caring for this impetuous, occasionally insane female and I will not rest easy until I have seen her for myself.”
“My lord—”
“Stand aside.”
“Here, here.” The firm voice of Mrs. Green intruded in the argument. “What is the trouble?”
“I have come to see Miss Stanholte,” Lord Mumford announced in aggressive tones, clearly prepared to have his way. Mary, however, was not easily intimidated. Not even by a six-foot lord with enough arrogance to fill all of England.
“Yes, well, you needn’t disturb the entire household,” she chided. “That will be all, Emma.”
“Yes, mum.”
There was a silence as the maid departed, no doubt to spread the rumor that Lord Mumford was forcing his way into the mistress’s bedchamber.
“How is she?” Luke at last demanded.
“She’ll live, no thanks to that blackguard.”
“I want to see her.”
“I won’t have her disturbed,” the housekeeper warned.
With an inward sigh, Cassie at last conceded defeat. It was futile to hope the gentleman would be swayed by the doctor’s orders, or even by the sheer indecency of being in her private rooms.
“Oh, for goodness sakes, let him in,” she commanded in weak tones. “It is the only means I shall have of gaining peace.”
Mary snorted her disapproval as Lord Mumford crossed the room and then boldly perched on the edge of the bed. In the shadowed room, his face appeared remarkably pale and his eyes as dark as night. Grasping her slender fingers, he struggled to conjure his normal composure.
“As charming as ever, I see.” His gaze moved to the heavy bandage at her shoulder. “How do you feel?”
She grimaced, well aware that she had been unbelievably fortunate.
“As if I had just been shot,” she retorted in wry tones.
Unexpectedly, his features twisted with a flare of sheer fury.
“One day I shall take great pleasure in hanging Toby and his companions.” Then with an effort he forced himself to take in a calming breath. “I do not suppose you could identify the man who shot you?”
Cassie gave a sudden shiver. “No. He was wearing a scarf over his face.”
“Did he wear a gray coat?”
“I do not recall . . .” Cassie’s voice trailed away as a vivid image flashed through her mind. “Wait. Yes. Yes, it was gray.”
Luke’s eyes abruptly narrowed, his hand tightly grasping her fingers.
“You are not safe here,” he growled.
After this morning, she had to agree. Not even her stubborn nature could deny that only sheer luck had saved her life. Someone most desperately wished to be rid of her.
But who?
“And where would I be safe, my lord?” she demanded in weary tones.
“I could find you a house outside of London—”
“And have everyone presume I am your mistress?” she interrupted.
He gave a restless shake of his head, frustration carved into his lean countenance. “The devil take it. At least you would be away from Toby.”
“I will only be safe when I have proven Lady Stanholte is a fraud,” Cassie pointed out, wincing as the throbbing in her shoulder deepened.
As if sensing she was in no condition for their usual sparring, he gave a rueful smile.
“Then that is what we will do.” Slowly he lifted her hand to his mouth, placing a lingering kiss on her fingers before turning her hand over and stroking his lips over her inner wrist. The caress was a poignant reminder of the first occasion he had kissed her in such a fashion, and a pleasant heat stirred in her stomach. “Rest now.”
From lowered lids Cassie watched as Lord Mumford rose to his feet and moved across to where Mrs. Green guarded the door with a forbidding expression. He paused for a moment as he spoke to the housekeeper in a low tone, no doubt issuing commands in his usual arrogant manner. At the moment, however, Cassie was in too much pain to protest.
Instead she gratefully sank back into the waiting darkness.